#TextsFromHisRoyalRyness

After spending the day revisiting the extraordinary correspondence that has been my exquisite reality since Good Friday 2012, I'd like to share a few of my favorites.

 HRR on The National Gallery:

HRR on *Old* Orleans:

HRR on His Nome de Guerre:

"His Ryness works just as well.  It will attract my fellow Great Pink Sharks like a caviar-laden, chum-line."

HRR on Big Ang:

HRR on Wake Up Calls:

HRR on Chagrin, Hope, & Tenacity:

"I am tired of this cruel heat, ignorant politics, and lack of both cultural investment and human decency, these days here."

"After waking up on another Tuesday 9-11 with the exact same conditions of one 11 years ago, when I was an inhouse hooker at 111 Wall, I am reminded that I can survive anything."

HRR on Wishmaking:

HRR on Star Gazing:

"I spent all afternoon with Dylan at a Ralph Rocks benefit in Montauk and she is like her "Candy Bar," spun-sugar heaven.  I have the cutest shirt from her store that says "Ken isn't the only sugar in my Barbie town!" And on the back, "I got my fix at Dylan's"  I think she thought I was a bit chunky as I was given an XXL.  I'll wear it out to Coney.  With some Balenciaga gaucho pants and some Yohji slides... And of course... Ochialli by the one and only, Mr. Valentino!!!!" 

HRR on The Proper Gift For A Lady:

HRR on his entourage bribing a postal plane to fly them in to St. Barts after spotting little white crosses as far as the eye could care to roam:

"Oh BRILLIANT!"

HRR on Our Spot:

HRR on Pullin' Some Shade:

"Benihana: Which must mean *TRAGIC, overpriced fast-food, tourist-trap, themey-dump* in Japanese"

HRR on How To REALLY Love A Girl:

"Fontana di Trevi.  The Trevi Fountain.  No picture could do it justice!  None.  Annie Leibovitz might get them to close it to traffic, both people & cars for a clearer shot, but like some mythical creature, it's true beauty & essence defy any one dimensional capture.  I am reliable for some colorful imagery on occassion.  Why I loved you so, is because you never mistook my need for self-expression as simple, futile, pretension for ego's sake.  I am a Walden Pond poet, trapped in a Glamazon Magpie's shell.  So as far as "mythological creatures go... it takes one to know one!  Salu Bellisima."

I am loved.  A love that draws comparison to A True North, A Safe Harbor, A Soft Place To Fall.  Somebody gets me.  Adds another place setting at, what has for so long been, the table-for-one that is my brand of "peculiar."  Speaks my antiquated language.  

My gratitude for this gift is something that I fear will always escape my talent as a writer.  But perhaps this post will set the stage for giving all of you a peek behind the curtain.  This is why my heart skips a beat when the telltale multiple text melody resounds from my telephone.  On one particular day, he made it skip twice.

"Are you familiar with Matt Chambers, the New Orleans litigator who left his practice to found Confederate Motorcycles?"

It was the very first time that he had ever been fascinated by someone to the point of suggesting that I investigate.  I was absolutely paralyzed... with the most intoxicating curiosity!