THE UNBASHFUL BRUSH

My good friend David Schoffman differs from me in many ways. Whereas I am somewhat withdrawn and cold, Schoffman is a cauldron of raw emotion.

I tend to guard my freedom with the tenacity of a cornered rat. My attempts at maintaining a stable, loving and empathic relationship with a romantic partner have always ended in misery. 

Schoffman, on the other hand is admirably loyal and indefatigably uxorious. 

He is unashamed of the crazy power of love. For as long as I have known him he has always devoted certain stretches of time in his studio making double portraits of himself and his bride.

It's all very touching. 

(it's not at all clear to me if his wife truly appreciates these unprompted gestures)

 

SCHOFFMAN'S TWO FAVORITE HENRYS

Without precisely understanding the context, my dear friend David Schoffman prides himself on his Bergsonian élan vital. He claims that an inexplicable "life-force," summoned by the fiction of personal invulnerability, guides his relationship to his work and his life. 

A key element in this delusion is his bicycle. It seems that Schoffman values pedals over people. He has my pity for I would never be able to live in Los Angeles. Cafés and small neighborhood bistros have all been reduced to backdrops for trendy social media posts. Locals of a certain age who are unattached to communities of worship or rehab centers have nowhere to congregate. Techies and 'influencers' are the prevailing arbiters of urban culture and folks like Schoffman are left in privileged isolation.

 

My friend David can only justify his loneliness with silly one-minute videos that no one bothers to watch.