© Robert Mapplethorpe Foundation
In this short story by Felice Picano, he talks about replacing a friend's friend in a FIP share with Jack Brusca and Frank Diaz. He describes a house on Floral Walk with a central pavillion, and four surrounding bedrooms and a roof deck - I think it's this one at 268 Floral Walk. The whole story is published in Felice Picano's memoir " True Stories".
An excerpt: "Latish the following Saturday morning, Randy took me to a house on Floral Walk between Fire Island and Bay Boulevards. The first thing I noticed even before I'd gotten inside was that although it was at the bottom of a hill, the place was surrounded by decks, even possessed a small rooftop deck -- what might have been called a Widow's Walk in earlier times -- overlooking the thick foliage and nearby houses, from which one could sun, watch sunsets over the Great South Bay, and look at the ocean. Upon a ground-level deck outside the two bedrooms I supposed to be occupied by Jack and Frank, I couldn't help but notice worn-looking leather mats upon which were strewn hand-weights, a barbell and about five hundred pounds of iron discs of weights and add-ons.
What would turn out to be my first home in Fire Island was as unextraordinary as it turned out to be beachily practical. Once indoors, it became immediately obvious that these guys did not earn their living in Design & Decoration, like so many of our neighbors, nor did they subscribe to Architectural Digest. Externally, the place consisted of two slanted-roof wings in ginger-colored cedar planking attached to a central living-dining area. The house's interiors used the same planking, though in a lighter (perhaps unweathered) shade. Above the large refectory table, a good-sized skylight opened to aid circulation from opposing floor-to-ceiling glass doors. The bedrooms were rectangles just large enough to hold a double bed -- with a closet. John's room had it's own bathroom with tall shower, backed to the kitchen, and was thus bit more private. Jack and Frank's rooms were in a wing across the spacious center and they shared a bathroom. The kitchen was in done up in dark greens and reds: functional. Two pieces of art decorated the barely furnished -- couch, two rattan chairs, a few lamp tables -- living area: a brightly colored Parrot-like papier-mache sculpture on one wall, and on another, a pop-art painting of a slice of American flag and the right half of someone's face. I later discovered these had been brought by their creator: bachelor number one: Jack Brusca. One outside deck held a wooden chairs and a table, and small hibachi.
The entire place looked simple and masculine and I said as much to Frank and Jack. They'd evidently been out late that Friday night and looked unawake when I arrived for my interview. Unhelpfully, they grunted in response.
It was the oddest meeting of future housemates. John and Randy vanished into John's room, ostensibly to look for something, although everyone knew it was to fuck, while Jack and Frank ate breakfast, made plans succinctly for the rest of the weekend, and occasionally asked me a question, although they barely heeded whatever answer I came up with. I found both men to be dauntingly handsome, although in distinctive and individual ways -- and ultra-butch. Jack, with his sculptured head, close-cut curling hair and prizefighter's face -- large soft eyes, broken nose and sensuous mouth -- gathered breakfast dishes and washed them. He wore tight fitting shorts and a loose a-shirt which couldn't help but show off his lithe compact body and catlike movements, his heavily muscled arms. Frank, meanwhile brooded over a third cup of coffee, brushing crumbs out of his luxuriant black beard. He was more muscular than Jack, with a "Draw Me and You Too Will Become an Artist" conventionally dark-eyed face. Both men were much photographed: Frank's head and torso would be photographed then later drawn by David Martin to represent Zeus, king of the Gods, in my retelling of the Ganymede legend, An Asian Minor.
For the moment, however, I was made to understand that Frank Diaz was the number three person in the tonily successful New York State Endowment for the Arts. While Jack Brusca's art had become so successful, that he'd been commissioned by a South American government to go to still-abuilding jungle capitol Brasilia and put up a forty foot high sculpture. Though they didn't say a word at the time, later on both privately told me that I fit their idea of a housemate better than my pal John had: not only being masculine in appearance and attitude, but also being connected to the arts, as they were, since I was a published novelist, and nominated for a prestigious literary award. Later, they also told me that despite being hung over that first meeting, they'd both found me attractive. Enough so after I'd gone to the beach with Randy and John, they had discussed me at length and agreed: "Okay! Neither of us gets to do him 'til after the summer share is over. Okay? Okay!""
Comments
Post a Comment