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Nikola Tesla

The Nikola Tesla museum is a creamy villa in Belgrade. I arrived in time for the short film which included a snapshot of my grandfather saying hello to Mr. Tesla. It was surreal to see my grandfather up there on the screen. I forget where I am sometimes. I never fail to recognize my grandfather and his beautiful serene face concealing who knows what thoughts. In the photos he is always perfectly composed and serious.
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Sunday on the Sava

That my beloved Green Parrot is closed and under renovation is an excellent reason to exit Key West. Most importantly the dance floor is being rebuilt and I feel a little responsible for its extensive wear and tear. What a great time to be away, because to be there and not be allowed to go dance at the Green Parrot would be worse than hell. Equally hellish in my sainted little island life is the weather, it being the
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Belgrade, Serbia

My very first time in this country, five days in the middle of July, I traveled with my friend Henry Bisharat. He sure made things easy, as a world traveler himself it came naturally to him to organize everything, even more natural for him was to go on to start a travel company, I recommend you put your life in his hands at www.worldtravelerhelp.com In 1903, after a strange and orphan-like existence, my grandfather H
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Dead Former Office Worker

I am up north and in NYC and the migration of some of my possessions begins, starting with renting a truck to transport three paintings. After a peculiar set of circumstances including being put on the phone with a convicted murderer, but that’s another story as I am wont to say, three paintings belonging to me landed temporarily in the office of the father of a friend’s ex-boyfriend. None of which would&
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Genius

There was much magnificence packed into this last week. Starting with opening night at the Metropolitan Opera. There I saw Le Nozze di Figaro along with the Masters of the Universe, David Koch, John Paulson, Carson from Queer Eye, etc. I tend to think I don’t like opera or Mozart (I prefer Chopin and Beethoven and Schubert) until I witness a brilliant performance and then I remember why it is genius. I love mus
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Jasmine

AND THE RAIN COMES DOWN. When I left Key West my jasmine tree was in full bloom, taller than myself with bulbous bells of tiny white delicious smelling buds so that as I packed last night I was drunk on the night bloomer mingling with rainy season laden air. I only ever travel on one-way tickets so as much as I know is I’ve come north to fetch my miserable possessions strewn over the eastern seaboard. And thank
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Dirty Brian

…a true story… DIRTY BRIAN WAS A WHITE BOY with Irish roots who missed out on the fabled luck. Starting life in the projects of NYC he was raised by his mother, a mean spirited drunk. They shared a one bedroom apartment in a tenement high rise. She hated him, and frequently told him he was the reason his father abandoned them. Brian tried in vain to earn his mother’s attention, affection, dare he long for her l
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Diana Nyad

Inspiring athlete Diana Nyad was honored on the beach this past Tuesday morning. Ms Nyad gave a bracing speech and received an award, an iron plaque. September in the tropics the sun is an open flame searing pale skin to coconut flakes. Thus I am flipped to a nocturnal schedule, meaning, I slept through the ceremony. Originally there was to be a statue of Diana, in bathing costume, to mark the spot where she first st
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Thank You Joan Rivers

In 1986 I attended something called a ‘Ladies Lunch’ in honor of Joan Rivers. This lunch was hosted by Betsy Bloomingdale at her impressive Bel Aire home. I was the guest of a guest and knew no one. Recently married to a starving artist I was sporting a very tiny engagement ring. I was dreading Ms Rivers catching sight of it.In those days, when you saw Joan Rivers on the Johnny Carson show, she had a routine about en
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