Ed White

I was in Paris when I found out Ed White died. At the bar at Soho House a few nights ago having a drink with a fag I’d just met. And the first thing I thought of was this party I threw for Ed when I was in my 20s. I think he had a new book out called City Boy. It was all about his life in New York in the 70s. So much sex and so much fun. When his publicist sent it to me I finished it right away.

I had a friend in Chelsea who had a huge apartment so I was like, Ed, I feel like I should just throw you a party. And we can talk about the book or whatever but I’m going to invite the most attractive twinks I know. He laughed so hard at this. He loved twinks. I had just gotten in some shit with the poetry world (never ending story) because I’d said I invited only attractive people to my parties in the New York Times Style section. So controversial I mean, what are parties for. Are we going to be reading the Bible?

We did not read the Bible on the night when I hosted Ed. I would have done whatever he wanted. I had such respect for him. He was so sweet and so old school. He read from the book. He watched all of us twinks act insane and do blow and spill drinks and smoke on the balcony where every other hour some fag was like should I just kill myself and end it all. Probably because some other fag hadn’t texted them back or whatever. Mind you, this was in front of a man who had seen all his friends die of AIDS. He loved us though. He thought we were charming and young because…well, we were! One of the great things about youth is that it just doesn’t care. Though I don’t know about the youth now, honestly. Back then there was no cancel culture. No morality police. None of this bullshit that continues to be a cancer on the arts (and life in general).

I probably asked Ed so many inappropriate questions. Sometimes my authenticity can come off as rude. But Ed really liked that about me. My first book hadn’t come out yet. But everyone sort of knew me (its own curse, trust me). And I remember at the end of the party, or actually, just when he was leaving (he lasted a long time! and the twinks were such degenerates we never went to sleep, the coke was incredible in New York in the 2010s sorry)…I was like, Ed, do you have any advice. And he had seen all the stuff in the Times happen and had heard of people talking shit about me. And he was just like, “fuck em.” And it was a sweet “fuck em.” A soft “fuck em.” I know when I give a twink advice at the next party whenever it is, it’s gonna be a hard “fuck em.” But that’s just me. And that was Ed. A really great guy. You can’t buy soul.