Carlos Garcia aka New York Boy

When I was in my early twenties, my sister was working on her doctorate at NYU. She lived in Greenwich Village right near Washington Square Park, at the corner of Bleeker and McDougal Streets.

She lived in NYC for about a decade, and while most of her apartments were the size of a cracker box, it was the best vacation destination ever. Location, location, location.

On this particular visit, I was with my friend Laura. We had a friend that lived in Brooklyn, so we were shuttling back and forth between his place and my sisters. One evening, we met my sister at St. Mark's.

St. Mark's is a street in the middle of the Village. It's kinda touristy yet funky good. The streets are lined with tons of little shops, restaurants, and street vendors. Laura, Beth and I were there strolling along and we saw this REALLY hot guy reading tarot cards for a couple of bucks. What does a gurl do when there's a hot guy giving card readings? Why, hell yes, she gets her cards read!

Let me try to do Carlos justice in my description. His skin was the color of caramel, he's wasn't thin and he wasn't fat, just beefy. He had the kind of soulful eyes that made you want to save him and be saved by him, all at the same time. He smelt the way the air smells right after it rains, with a hint of testosterone. And then he called me "mamacieta"

The only thing I remember about the reading was my sister standing behind me whispering "go back to school, go back to school" like she was the cards talking.

Laura and I agreed to meet him at a club later that night. We ended up spending the next 10 hours with him and his friend, just clubbing, and chatting and running around Manhattan. It was one of the funnest nights of my life. Carlos had lived in NYC all his life so he knew the insiders tour.

Finally, at like 7 a.m., they rode the subway with us back to Brooklyn. After exchanging phone numbers and addresses, Carlos and I had a very long goodbye. There was love in the air!

Unfortunately, Laura and I had to get on a plane home a mere three hours later. Ain't that how it always goes? Don't worry, it wasn't the last time I saw Carlos.

Carlos is a writer. He uses the alias Micheal Dantilleon, because, he said, "Carlos Garcia is Spanish for Joe Smith", but I'll tell you all about that later. I have the most incredible collection of love letters he wrote to me over the years. Perhaps, at some point, I will open the memory vault and share some with you.

Amy Winehouse and the Twenty Seven Club

When I mentioned to RWC that Amy Winehouse had died, at the tender age of 27, the first thing he said was "Oh, she's joined the 27 Club."

"The 27 Club?" I ask

"Yes." RWC says, "It's a group of famous musicians who died under suspicious circumstances. The phrase "27 Club" was coined in reference to Jimi Hendrix, Brian Jones, Janis Joplin, Kurt Cobain, and Jim Morrison, all dead at 27. "

"An auspicious membership indeed." I reply

"Well", apparently 27 is some kind of cut off for musicians.  If you make it to 28, you're good to go.  Take Keith Richards for instance." he laughs.

Below is a video of Amy singing my favorite song "Tears Dry on Their Own" live.  The video was made in 2007, and the life is still in her eye's.  It's the way I want to remember her.  Full of piss and vigor.  RIP sweet Amy Winehouse.