I've been posting lately about some of the loves of my life who happened to be women. So here's one of the loves of my life who happened to be men: Joe Brainard. I fell in love first with Joe's art and writing and after exchanging some letters made a pilgrimage to New York City in 1972 (I was living in DC) with the intention of seducing him. I sat on the floor, literally at his feet, as he read his work to a small crowd and seemed slightly embarrassed by my obvious ploy.
At his loft later (on 6th Ave next to the church that would become The Limelight) we had sex and would again off and on for the next ten years. After I moved to NYC in '75, we would often see each other at parties and events but more often have dinner alone in obscure little restaurants and usually spend the night at his then Greene Street loft where we would sometimes draw each others' feet or cocks or chests.
We had very different personalities, backgrounds, and looks, but were born the same year (1942) and were the same height and weight, which somehow made me feel like we were essentially related. After I moved to LA in '82 we didn't see each other much, but he called me in 1994 when he was dying (he passed on May 25th, my birthday) but wouldn't talk about it, saying he was fine.
His letters and drawings he sent me, some quite salacious, or I guess I mean sexy, are in my archives at NYU. His smile in this photo captures best what I loved, and still love, about Joe. I think of him every day.
[PS: so as not to be misunderstood, I'm not sad about all the loves I've had that I didn't end up with permanently, I miss them but rejoice in the times we had together no matter how brief or truncated...I'm totally at peace with my past and present...]
(C) 2021 Michael Lally
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