The Personal History, Adventures, Experiences & Observations of Peter Leroy

BECAUSE I am an avid eavesdropper, I have often wondered why microphones are not made to resemble ears. After all, the point of a microphone is not that someone is speaking, but that someone else is, or will be, listening. . . . Get full access to The Personal History, Adventures, Experiences & Observations of Peter Leroy at peterleroy.substack.com/subscribe

IN THE MORNING, Albertine called three real estate agencies to list the hotel with them, and in the afternoon I ferried a dozen realtors out to look the place over. . . . Get full access to The Personal History, Adventures, Experiences & Observations of Peter Leroy at peterleroy.substack.com/subscribe

JUST BEFORE Albertine and I started up the stairs to bed, the phone rang. At that hour, Al generally preferred to let the machine take all calls, but I still had hopes that I would find on the other end of the line a representative of a vast extended family calling to inquire about taking the entire hotel for a reunion, . . . Get full access to The Personal History, Adventures, Experiences & Obser...

ONE SPRING NIGHT, thirty-eight years ago, I was camping in my back yard with my four friends Rodney “Raskol” Lodkochnikov, Marvin Jones, Rose “Spike” O’Grady, and Matthew Barber. Spike had brought our meandering conversation to a sudden end when . . . Get full access to The Personal History, Adventures, Experiences & Observations of Peter Leroy at peterleroy.substack.com/subscribe

I WAS UP EARLY the next morning, as always, but when I entered the kitchen I found Cedric “Call Me Lou” Abbot already there, chatting with Suki, the cook, and making himself a breakfast sandwich from the meat loaf in the “leftovers” refrigerator. . . . Get full access to The Personal History, Adventures, Experiences & Observations of Peter Leroy at peterleroy.substack.com/subscribe

WHEN I finished reading, my audience sat in awkward silence for a moment, until I said, “Please hold your applause until the author has completed the reading of all fifty episodes.” . . . Get full access to The Personal History, Adventures, Experiences & Observations of Peter Leroy at peterleroy.substack.com/subscribe

IN THE EVENING, I had one drink too many before dinner, and, after dinner, in the lounge, I began the countdown to my fiftieth birthday by reading the first installment of Dead Air. . . . Get full access to The Personal History, Adventures, Experiences & Observations of Peter Leroy at peterleroy.substack.com/subscribe

I STOOD AT THE WHEEL of the leaking launch, approaching the dock on Small’s Island and the end of my fiftieth year, throttling down, gauging the speed of my approach . . . Get full access to The Personal History, Adventures, Experiences & Observations of Peter Leroy at peterleroy.substack.com/subscribe

Get full access to The Personal History, Adventures, Experiences & Observations of Peter Leroy at peterleroy.substack.com/subscribe

Get full access to The Personal History, Adventures, Experiences & Observations of Peter Leroy at peterleroy.substack.com/subscribe

WHEN THINGS GO WRONG, I sometimes wish that I were someone else, somewhere else, living a different life. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that you sometimes feel that way, too. In my case, . . . Get full access to The Personal History, Adventures, Experiences & Observations of Peter Leroy at peterleroy.substack.com/subscribe

WHEN WE GOT HOME, we let ourselves in, and the girls immediately started up the stairs. I hesitated. “Peter,” they whispered, one in each ear, tugging my arms, “come on.” “Wait here,” I said. “There’s something I have to do.” Get full access to The Personal History, Adventures, Experiences & Observations of Peter Leroy at peterleroy.substack.com/subscribe

BY THE TIME we reached the center of town, most of Babbington seemed to be there, drawn by the light of the fire or the sound of the sirens. . . . Get full access to The Personal History, Adventures, Experiences & Observations of Peter Leroy at peterleroy.substack.com/subscribe

I had no interest in what I was doing. I barely had the will to do what had to be done. To make myself do something , I did what I could do without thinking. Get full access to The Personal History, Adventures, Experiences & Observations of Peter Leroy at peterleroy.substack.com/subscribe

WE DIDN’T GO to the movies the following Friday. We had a falling-out instead. It began when I told Margot and Martha that I just had too much work to do. Martha ran her fingers over my lips and asked, “Why not ignore the drawings tonight and spend the evening with the originals?” Get full access to The Personal History, Adventures, Experiences & Observations of Peter Leroy at peterleroy.substack....

THE NEXT WEEK’S MOVIE was, I don’t know, Frozen Dust or something like that. It was a love story, but a falling-out-of-love story rather than a falling-in-love story. Its tone was chilly and bleak. So was the weather. . . . Get full access to The Personal History, Adventures, Experiences & Observations of Peter Leroy at peterleroy.substack.com/subscribe

AFTER THE NEXT WEEK’S FILM, the name of which I can’t even recall, I hurried the girls through the park, past the Nevsky mansion, toward home. “You’re in quite a rush this week,” said Margot. . . . Get full access to The Personal History, Adventures, Experiences & Observations of Peter Leroy at peterleroy.substack.com/subscribe

MARGOT AND MARTHA got most of the secrets out of me in the first week. On the way home from Love and War in Dusty Rome , playing the parts of the circus acrobats Angela and Angelina, they took turns riding piggyback on my shoulders and interrogating me. . . . Get full access to The Personal History, Adventures, Experiences & Observations of Peter Leroy at peterleroy.substack.com/subscribe

THUS I BECAME a sketch doctor. . . . Get full access to The Personal History, Adventures, Experiences & Observations of Peter Leroy at peterleroy.substack.com/subscribe

     He began pulling sketches from the pile and laying them out for me to examine. These were sketches of one of the girls; to be honest, I wasn’t sure which. If they had been the work of a single artist, they would have chronicled a worsening obsession with elephantiasis. . . . Get full access to The Personal History, Adventures, Experiences & Observations of Peter Leroy at peterleroy.substack.c...

     “At the next class I put Margot on the stand, seated on a low stool. I aimed a light at her right knee and told them to draw it. From the work in front of you, you can see how things have progressed. There are now classes four nights a week, and a waiting list. [. . .]” Get full access to The Personal History, Adventures, Experiences & Observations of Peter Leroy at peterleroy.substack.com/su...

“I ENJOY MY WORK as I never did before,” said Andy. “I don’t mean the painting, though I still do it—it’s a living. And I don’t mean the teaching—that’s just a means to an end. I mean my study of the archetypal images that control our view of the world. . . . Get full access to The Personal History, Adventures, Experiences & Observations of Peter Leroy at peterleroy.substack.com/subscribe

     “Now answer this if you can: What shape is a watermelon?” Almost without thinking, I moved my hands into position to hold a nonexistent watermelon. “Well—” I said. “I mean exactly what shape is a watermelon?” said Andy. . . . Get full access to The Personal History, Adventures, Experiences & Observations of Peter Leroy at peterleroy.substack.com/subscribe

     The top sheet was blank. I turned it aside. I began flipping through the others. On the sheets were figure studies in pencil and charcoal. The drawings seemed to be the work of several hands, but only two models seemed to be represented: Margot and Martha. I saw them there, even though they were distorted in a fascinating variety of ways.  Get full access to The Personal History, Adventures,...

“I WANT TO TALK TO YOU, PETER,” said Andy, one morning, about a month later. “Come into the studio.” “Okay,” I said, failing to apply any of the practical lessons of literature. I followed him into the studio. He shut the door behind me. He locked it. I began to sweat.      Get full access to The Personal History, Adventures, Experiences & Observations of Peter Leroy at peterleroy.substack.com/sub...