Electroboy

I've got to be strong And try to hang on Or else my mind may well snap And my life will be lived for the thrills -Dr. Everett Scott The Rocky Horror Picture Show Electroboy is a memoir. However, certain names and identifying details have been changed to protect the privacy of individuals whose paths crossed mine at a time in their lives from which they have since moved on. January 6, 1991. 1.Bleach bathtub, toilet, and sink 2.Make Holocaust documentary 3.Start tofu/tuna diet 4.Work out five days/week 5.Buy new scale 6.Confirm $35,000 wire transfer from Art Collection House 7.Open Munich bank account 8.Open escrow account for rent 9.Mail $20,000 to American Express 10.Bring $2,700 to Dr. Kleinman 11.Submit claims to Blue Cross/Blue Shield 12.Go to Metpath lab for lithium level 13.Pick up lithium and Prozac 14.Buy more Kiehl's Extra Strength Styling Gel 15.Get Lara's psychiatrist's phone # 16.Get Pamela's astrologist's phone # 17.Tanning salon 18.Visit Auschwitz 19.South Beach or Bahamas? 20.Book trip with Dad to Galapagos 21.Make reservations at Chanterelle 22.Write novel and screenplay 23.Read 7 Habits of Highly Effective People 24.Pick up Liquid-Plumr 25.Buy a dog Preface Flying High In Manhattan, even at 5:00 a.m., it's easy to find someone to talk to if you can't sleep. There's an entire network of actors, writers, bartenders, prostitutes, and drug dealers hanging out in after-hours bars and clubs across the city, waiting to transition from vodka and cocaine to orange juice, pancakes, and eggs. Somewhere in the East Village, guys with names like Edgardo and Leon sell coke to kids who snort it in unisex bathrooms. In a theater in Times Square, hustlers called Cody and Shane rush into cabs and limos and back to bedrooms and hotel rooms for $150 private shows. At a bar on the Upper East Side, two women laugh loudly-or is the one adjusting her skirt a man? An off-duty bartender, a guy in his late twenties with a healthy tan and curly blond hair, vividly describes to the bartender and a few customers his most recent group-sex scene, a private party where he and his buddies all banged one of the other guys' girlfriends. "We worked her over for more than three hours," he says. He does a shot of tequila and grins. A very thin thirty-five-year-old woman, with long chestnut brown hair, tan skin, and shiny pink lipstick, wearing a tight-fitting dress and strappy high heels, brags about the professional hockey player she fucked the night before. "He's a very well known athlete-he went down on me for more than an hour and then fucked me like I've never been fucked before," she says. I happen to be an art dealer, which someone once told me at a Soho opening was a notch above drug dealer on the career ladder. But tonight I might as well be a prostitute. After quite a few lines of cocaine and more than ten shots of vodka, I find myself trying to sell a Kostabi painting for $3,000 to a minor-league porn star (he tells me he's only done a handful of films). Chad is in his midthirties, big and muscular, with huge hands that envelop the shot glass. The more coke we do, the closer he seems to meeting my asking price. He's in New York hustling for the month and wiring money back to his wife and two kids in Las Vegas. I'm telling him that he can flip the painting for $5,000 in a day because I'm giving him a price that's even lower than wholesale, or he can wait to take it to Christie's and maybe get even more money at auction. He actually seems interested and takes my card. I stash my to-do list in my pocket and buy a kamikaze for each of us and a round of drBehrman, Andy is the author of 'Electroboy', published 2002 under ISBN 9780375503580 and ISBN 0375503587.