A year into the process that we call Divorce, I decided to to find myself an apartment in the city. I hadn't lived there since I was a teenager and, more than 25 years later I would return as a man in my Forties. Outside of my sister and some business associates, I barely knew a soul here. It was a big move into a tiny space but, it was my space, the first space in my life that I didn't share with a room mate or spouse. I met Eric the day I moved in. It was as if he were my personal welcoming committee. He introduce me to the neighborhood through a pipeline and perspective that he alone seemed to gently commanded and as such, he made the address seem some how magical. We became friends immediately. His easy wit and charm were always a great source of inspiration for me. Starting over wouldn't have the same with out him. Some people called him the guru of saint marks. Some people called him the chick magnet of Saint marks (call it a sweet, grandfatherly guile, girls went ga ga). Beautiful women most certainly gravitated toward him on a daily basis. This remarkable magnetism made coming home from the studio every day an incredible treat because Eric would invariably be out in front of the building chatting up another gorgeous girl. He was a street philosopher, a street conductor and a sort of earth bound angel to many, myself among them. He was one in a trillion, a sort of once in a life time gift. He died little more than 2 years after we met. Everything about knowing him made me better and I still miss him like hell. I suppose that I always will. Quite a few years have past since he has and, I'm finally getting around to getting this blog and it's content to where it sort of aught to be. I still feel him as if he's in the air, part of my surroundings, and part of Saint Marks Place. Because of that and, of course many, many, other reasons, this address still seems magical.