Wry, sardonic, crisp writing like a glass of cold, dry white wine. I very much enjoyed this view on life in New York, by a gay man still living in the shadow of the AIDS crisis, working menial jobs to support his writing dreams, and living with a series of very odd roommates. I was disappointed to learn that the author has died and that his published works are few, as I wanted to find more, even though the verbal gymnastics that he performs began to wear a little. It felt as if he needed to show off in every single paragraph, and I could have used a bit of palate cleansing. Still, a book I will recommend to others. ( )