Calendar of Regrets

October

January February March April May June July August September October November December   & & &25' art? Surely art isn’t one of them. Of course art is one of them, dear boy, fleshy Jerome said reaching for his wine glass. He sipped, turned to Estelle: Your husband ’s certainly being contrary this evening, isn’t he? Then back to Robert: The delicious red, green, yellow? The heavy black outlines? The pleasure that pair of monkey men in the painting exude in the face of just, well, being? It’s like making your way through a spring street fair down in the Village. What could possibly be more wonderful? Don’t mind him, said Estelle. She raised her last forkful of salmon risotto and her busy turquoise bracelet jangled. Robert’s contrary every evening. Why should this be an exception? She slipped the fork between her lips. Mirth broke out around the table. Everyone faced Robert, eager to hear his rebuttal. He leaned back in his chair, chewing, taking in his dinner guest with a deliberately exaggerated look of befuddlement. Jerome, he said. Jerome. They’re sucking each other’s dicks, Jerome. Two guys are sucking each other’s dicks. They’re sixtynining each other. That’s not wonderful. Longo is all right. Tansey is tolerable. But Keith Haring? Please. And the execution? Why don’t you ask me about the execution. Go ahead, Jerome. Ask me. Jerome sighed and answered as if answering an imbecilic child: You know what somebody once said the difficulty with the idea of utopia is? There’s no red-light district in it. Fine, Robert. Fine. Why 26 b & LANCE OLSEN ' don’t you enlighten us all about the execution? The execution’s execrable. It has about as much sophistication as an episode of Pee-Wee’s Playhouse. I love you exceedingly, dear boy, but you’re really quite mad. And, if the truth be known, I rather enjoy Mr. Herman and his nutty theater. Larry Fishburne as Cowboy Curtis is almost enough to make one want to wake up early on Saturday mornings. Robert didn’t like joking at his expense. Patting his mouth with his napkin, he said, toneless: Keith Haring isn’t about art, Jerome. Keith Haring is about doodles. Doodles and those posters hanging on sophomoric dorm-room walls alongside Starry Night and that Duran Duran gang. Anyway, how in the world can you take that schlemiel seriously? He wears his baseball cap backward, for godsakes. I believe we refer to that as being camp. And everyone knows bands like Duran Duran exist for the sole purpose of being made fun of, bless their silk suits and three-note melodies. What’s wrong with that? Robert rolled his eyes, opened his mouth to speak, and the maid, a shy Puerto Rican elf with overlapping front teeth, appeared and commenced clearing away dishes. Estelle asked if anyone might like an espresso or cordial. She wore a baggy grayblue dress with a large crimson rose just below the collar and possessed a leftleaning jaw. Robert extracted a cigarette from his case lying on the tablecloth next to his plate and lit up. In the midst of exhaling two spikes of smoke, he caught himself. Look at me, he said. I’m a heathen. Anyone? Naomi palmed her high oily forehead. Recently she had started wearing wigs because she said she was tired of taking care of her own hair. Tonight’s was a ginger Jennifer Beals that shifted unnervingly side to side as she rubbed. I shouldn’t, she said, but, oh, well, fuck it. Please, Dan said, leaning forward. Thanks, Bob. Did you hear, by the way, Naomi asked as she passed a match & calender of regrets ' b 27 beneath her Dunhill tip, that Keith just opened his own boutique? God save us, said Robert. The Pop Shop, I think it’s called. I pass it on my way to the Foundation every morning. It sells Keith buttons, Keith watches, Keith t-shirts, Keith ties, Keith bandanas, Keith bubblegum—and, should there be any question about it, Robert, Keith baseball caps. The idea, evidently, is for Keith to make Keith accessible to the masses. Naomi crossed her eyes goofily and took a drag. You can’t help adoring a populist with a good sales sense, Robert said. Please tell me you’re kidding about the bubblegum. They may have been Tootsie-Pop-like objects...