Carolyn at my place, 6 AM. She was a bartender at Downtown Beirut (First Avenue between 9th and 10th); I was a night-shift cabbie. We both got off around 5.

Taken during a school outing from Ottilia M. Beha Juntior High School, on 12th between First and A. My place on 10th was also between First and A. I could roll out of bed, find my cleanest dirty shirt, and be there in five minutes.

There aren't many color photos of the apartment, a typical railroad flat on East 10th Street. In these two images we're in the kitchen at a formica table. The red boards nailed as a sort of "molding" around "bookshelves" were the same color as the floor. That's the bathtub in the background just to my left. The decayed plaster around the tub was very useful when it came time for tenant court. I would show a few pictures of the apartment and I would always walk out with a payment schedule. All those financial issues disappeared when Carolyn moved in.

I've always had a complicated relationship to money. I think there are emotional issues at the root, though I don't know what they are or where they came from. I was a hard person to be around, financially; I borrowed from lots of people. I was the friend that never had cash. I had dead-end jobs—none worse than cab driving. Years later I put off submitting invoices for work; I never felt like I deserved to be paid. I've gotten better as I've gotten older but a lot of that comes from being around Carolyn. I still have poor impulse control; I just buy things when I feel a flush of need, and I'm rarely without that feeling.