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I remember killing time at Rizzoli books, waiting for his fiance. I'm losing my noodle.

I remember his face red with pride and pleasure and wine, and I have one picture of that night on my phone, of people arranged on the stage, Gian Prostitutes Sezze out of view.

I also remember feeling like Gian didn't remember who I was. It Prostitutes Sezze strange—a strange feeling. We were so close for a stretch of months inand into I did random tasks for him, mostly having to do with the distributor's system. A system which he hated using at the time and was evidently confused by.

The summer of I was in his Hell's Kitchen studio several times per week. I went to lunch with him and Prostitutes Sezze lovely departed Chris March. I housesat for him I say that but I really mean he just gave his apartment to me for a week. He and Chris even got me a very nice designer argyle sweater for my birthday that year, which later on developed holes.

But then seven years later I came up to him before the Lutz reading, not having seen him in years, and he said, "Hey, buddy," and turned away.

I don't mean to make this about me or my Prostitutes Sezze. It's most definitely not, though it inevitably also is. I loved him and that was sad. In memory, in the wake of him, it's even sadder. I wish I could've said goodbye Prostitutes Sezze my friend, or have a memory that, in this time after Gian, would work as a goodbye.

Though I guess that's what death does. Systematically it sweeps us away. I realize now Prostitutes Sezze I'm far from the only person he made feel this way. Reading what others have said about him, I'm amazed that one man maintained so many different kinds of friendships.

Some where people were actually changing the world the books he published altered my life again and again I don't have the pedigree Prostitutes Sezze others who are mourning him. Not even the potential. But somehow I knew that Gian saw potential in me. He expressed this sometimes without Prostitutes Sezze words at all. What I Prostitutes Sezze up to usually didn't merit much comment from him.

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Still, he checked for me. At my wildest and most unhinged, Gian was checking for me. There were days, weeks, months I spent dunking my entire life into the shitter in an aggressively outward display of self-sabotage. A few short emails from him were sudden rays of hope that carried my spirit.

He often listened to drugged-out rants and riffs I shared online. It felt like the low-grade horror of my life resonated with him somehow. When I sent him some stickers I made, he slapped them right on his laptop. One was of me Prostitutes Sezze designer glasses, lighting a cigarette in a blurry motel room. The other was a pastel-washed paparazzi shot of Lindsay Lohan Prostitutes Sezze down the street, clutching the Prostitutes Sezze like a bespoke handbag.

Steven had asked me to put in a good word for him with Gian. Steven would then joke that I'd introduced the two of them. I didn't do anything, I insisted. Gian must've seen something in you. It's beyond me to know what it was, even though I love you and see your potential.

I see it in myself too. I'll just never know what exactly Gian saw. It's not that important, I guess. It was a blessing to know him at all, to feel his eyes on me, to do little chores for him sometimes. He was obviously busy, working on what appeared to me to be giant projects, but still found time to chat kindly with a comparatively un-busy person.

The acid trip he took this year, when he had revelations about his role in the world, his vision for a renaissance in publishing, he sent me a few brief voice memos about.

I love voice memos. In a voice memo, the magic of someone's soul, their cosmic wisdom, their intention and love are translated through the sound of them speaking. He was laughing about what a great time he'd had, Prostitutes Sezze he'd written a story about it. I could feel his excitement, his awe, his gratitude. I'm grateful for you, too, Gian. Thank you for everything I know how to thank you for, and thank you for everything I never will.

I told her hey, Prostitutes Sezze do it, he'll be back in three days, he's done that very Prostitutes Sezze before. She didn't stop screaming. I wanted to tell Gian. He would laugh. There is no Gian to tell. I went back to my room and sat on the shower floor. I wrote all my feelings down about Gian for other places. To say, "Words fail me" is a strong indictment of language. If an emperor dispatched a samurai on a mission to kill Prostitutes Sezze rival and the samurai didn't succeed, the emperor would say, "You've failed me," and decapitate the samurai.

The book I've been writing for Gian is about precognition, and about the hope that death isn't real, that we can all find Prostitutes Sezze other in alternate universes. Maybe I was writing precognitive autobiography. That first meeting, I'd say Gian was three sheets to the wind, but it was more like six sheets.

He was sincere and a little wasted, and didn't give a fuck about the usual New York things. By Prostitutes Sezze time, the three of us had already been in touch for a year or two. Jody and Gian had solicited me for something for the first issue of New York Tyrant and I'd missed the deadline and written to apologize.

That led to them asking me to send Prostitutes Sezze for the second issue and this time I managed. He wrote back to ask if I could Prostitutes Sezze them a novella called Baby Leg I'd mentioned in passing that had already been published serially.

I sent them a Word file of the novella and again they wrote back right away. What, they wanted to know, were my thoughts about publishing Prostitutes Sezze novella with them as the first book in a New York Tyrant book series?

At this point, Gian had not even put out an issue of the magazine—issue one was finished but still coming. I had a publisher already, Coffee House Press. Gian was at the time operating on a shoestring: not only was New York Tyrant Press not able to offer an advance, they couldn't really afford royalties of any kind. Instead he offered me a week-long stay in his family's villa in Italy.

It sounded Prostitutes Sezze like a pipe dream than a real possibility. But anybody who knew him knows Gian's enthusiasm could be infectious, and so I found myself saying yes, and then wondering later why I had. I have a lot of fond memories of Gian. There was the evening spent in his studio in Hell's Kitchen with him and Prostitutes Sezze bulldog Rufus going through copies of Prostitutes Sezze Legwhich he and his boyfriend Chris had handled with hands covered in red ink to leave bloody prints, and which I signed and stamped with my bloody thumbprint.

There were more than a Prostitutes Sezze nights in bars, with Gian telling more and more outrageous stories about people we both knew. There was the time he called a writer whose work I love and coaxed him Prostitutes Sezze take a 40 minute subway ride over so we could meet for the first time. The time he took me out for a drink and explained to me how he was going to miss my and Jesse Ball's reading because he had tickets to Antony and the Johnsons and how he was sorry, but there was no way he was going to miss the show, and then was surprised I wasn't upset.

Or how when I wrote to him telling him how pleased I was that Prostitutes Sezze was going to publish The Complete Gary Lutz he wrote back and convinced me almost before I knew it to write an introduction for it. When I forwarded to him a piece I loved Prostitutes Sezze another writer, he Prostitutes Sezze back: "I will publish the living fuck out of this thing!

When he believed in something, Gian would figure out a way to bring it into the world, and would do his best to publish the living fuck out of it. Gian wrote two things to me that I've always remembered and that, as much as anything, define him for me. The first was when he wrote "I managed to out asshole an asshole and will have my winnings in the mail to you soon.

He could be an asshole, he really Prostitutes Sezze, but Prostitutes Sezze was never a selfish asshole. When he was being one he was doing it to try to benefit someone else. The second was what he wrote me about our mutual friend Blake Butler: "he's in it because he's in it.

When it came to publishing, Gian was in it because he was in it. He cared deeply about good writing, and did his best to make Prostitutes Sezze literature not only better but Prostitutes Sezze. We drank whisky at a bar around the block from his apartment in Hell's Kitchen. He said he didn't want to do shots, but we kept taking them anyway. We had plans to see my friend's film premiere about skateboarders in the suburbs.

The screening was at a post-production facility not more than ten blocks from Prostitutes Sezze we were getting drunk. I remember he kept telling me: "You shouldn't drink so much, farm boy. When we paid the tab, Gian said he wanted to walk to the film so he could smoke a cigarette.

He was wearing this thin jacket, and I remember thinking, "Isn't this guy going to freeze? I asked if he wanted to borrow my jacket, which was this nondescript, well-insulated hooded jacket. He Prostitutes Sezze, "Man, I don't want to look like you. When we finally got to the film, we Prostitutes Sezze at the back of this crowded room Prostitutes Sezze a few minutes. The movie wasn't good, so Gian snuck out the back. A few minutes later, I followed him out and found him in the reception room by himself snacking on olives.

Prostitutes Sezze wasn't good but I went along. He grabbed a handful of olives and we left. Outside, he lit another cigarette, and it wasn't long before the shivering, the hugging, the smoking picked up again. He even started to walk twice as fast as me, as I tried to keep up. Eventually, he stopped on the sidewalk and turned around to me.

I looked at him. Prostitutes Sezze didn't know if he was joking. You owe me.

It was freezing. I remember a couple of his friends showed up and they all knew how to play. He bought me Prostitutes Sezze shot and said, "That one is for the jacket, but you can get the next round. Listening to his 3am voice notes on WhatsApp This shit is like the Prostitutes Sezze Hob Broun They shine like wishes.

He walks through the streets like it is all happening. Like he is granting it. We recline in his sala and talk Prostitutes Sezze talk, dissecting The Oration on the Dignity of Man. After, he keeps returning to the question of what is this?

What is this talking? But he figures it out. Giancarlo drives down from Napoli to meet me where I've tucked myself into the quietest piazza in the world. He Prostitutes Sezze right on time with a Prostitutes Sezze full of buffalo milk yogurt. He tells me I needed the sunset to write.

He lies next to me on Prostitutes Sezze bed and asks, "Is this heaven? The director writes back. The next morning we trace Giancarlo's Prostitutes Sezze on the back of a manuscript so he can send his measurements Prostitutes Sezze Buenos Aires for those anaconda shoes.

We trace my foot inside of his for comparison. Now, all I have are traces. I am so heavy with Prostitutes Sezze of him, of us.

My body is trying to contain too much. I feel Aristotle's definition of friendship as one soul in two bodies has been terribly reversed, and now I carry two in one. Here is a man who worries about watering the jasmine in his yard. Who practices his scales because he wants to impress his piano teacher. Here is a man who spends a ridiculous sum on cashmere socks, feels guilty for the money he spent, then declares they were totally worth it because he feels noble with every step.

Giancarlo's dancing feet are my favorite thing in the world. Seeing them makes me feel like everything is going to be O. Like everything already is. Like us dancing is the secret that unlocks reality's benevolent magic. Like we are already in heaven. I tell this to others to express how I love him. But how can Prostitutes Sezze explain how I love him? I ooze it. Here is a man who when the whole world is scared of touching, sends his beautiful husband to kidnap me from solitude, hugs me, takes me into his home for months, giggles and plays exquisite corpse with me late into the night.

That spring, we invented Prostitutes Sezze new ways of swimming Prostitutes Sezze the pool. On that bed in the quietest piazza in the world, Giancarlo and I joke about the sirens who lived here back when Ulysses passed by. I tell him the sirens were traditionally half Prostitutes Sezze half woman, then they changed to half human half fish, and there used Prostitutes Sezze be both mermaids and mermen.

I'd frolic with the dolphins, it'd be a party all the way down. Then I'd arrive at your door all human again, shivering and wet and naked with seaweed stuck on me, being like 'hey, you got a blanket? Here is a man who wanted to experience everything, feel everything, live it. Flesh is what we are here for.

It is a riff on Giancarlo's favorite passage in Prostitutes Sezze series of books we geeked out over, half joking but totally serious: books in which a woman named Jane Roberts channels a higher 'entity' called Seth as Jane's husband transcribes everything said.

Giancarlo and I tease each other about Prostitutes Sezze 'Sethies', and how I need to practice my channeling so he can transcribe. Turns out he was the one who did the channeling, but that story is for another time.

Here, all that remains are the words and the spirit. In a bar in Rome, Giancarlo and I Prostitutes Sezze together the dedication for my upcoming book: "For Gian, whom death does not front upon, but who voluntarily eternally succumbs to love.

For a man so huge, so overflowing, perhaps the only way to make sense of this is to follow Seth's logic: " The self outgrows the flesh. With love. I only trust Gian. Now I have to learn to trust others, to accept their edits, as Prostitutes Sezze as this feels unacceptable. Prostitutes Sezze the Prostitutes Sezze year I've been working on a collection and Gian had seen a few of the stories and helped edit them.

Now that I return to them, I feel disorientated. Jonathan Ames, who admired Giancarlo, suggested that instead of despairing, we should try and listen for Gian's voice between the lines of the stories we are writing.

If you pay close attention you can find him. He's everywhere. I recommend this exercise to all Prostitutes Sezze Giancarlo's writer orphans, to the many talented and visionary people he discovered, helped, and encouraged, to the ones he was in the midst of working with Prostitutes Sezze to the ones who were hoping to work with him in the future. Listen for his laughter, look out Prostitutes Sezze those "Lazy!

He was brutal and delicate at the same time. It was never about him or his editorial agenda. He just really wanted the writing to shine in its own right.

Prostitutes Sezze think this is obviously what many of us are going to miss about him most—this innate generosity of looking for truth on the page, but also making sure that whatever truth emerged was the writer's and never the editor's. I'm going to miss his curiosity. He would read anything I gave him in whichever form often on his phone because he couldn't wait to get home and get excited about it. I knew I could share all Prostitutes Sezze offbeat literary obsessions with him.

I presented him with a forgotten novel from the late s by the Italian writer Barbara Alberti called Deliriumwhich had been translated into English by FSG. It's a first-person narrative of a really pervy guy's creepy life. It's seedy and dirty and obscene and completely wrong in all the ways in which a story about a pervy male narrator could be wrong today.

But he loved it and Prostitutes Sezze to reissue it. He was willing to take risks nobody else Prostitutes Sezze the publishing world was willing to take.

He Prostitutes Sezze so busy getting inspired that he didn't have time for anything censorious. Even though the themes that interested and moved him the most—sex, drugs, fucked-up family narratives, a sense of stoic exclusion from the mainstream world—could Prostitutes Sezze to some pretty dark places, he had a wide- eyed and dreamy teenage approach to Prostitutes Sezze.

He was a romantic. He wanted to be moved, to fall in love, to laugh about our dark voids—and he Prostitutes Sezze this both as an editor and as a friend.

One morning a few years ago, after a particularly debaucherous night that Prostitutes Sezze me feeling anxious and blue, I got on the phone with him and told him how difficult it was for me to stay on a sane track.

Giancarlo Prostitutes Sezze at that very thought. None of us is perfect. People like you and me need to be okay with our contradictions. I could afford not to package things with him.

I could be messy and weird and not only did he never judge me for it, he encouraged a peaceful coexistence with that part Prostitutes Sezze myself. We might shoot the shit about murder and incest with the same tone as Prostitutes Sezze would discuss his husband Giuseppe's dinner menus as the castelletto. Life could be domestic and wild at the same time. Like Flaubert and Samantha Hunt say Prostitutes Sezze "Be regular and orderly Prostitutes Sezze your life like a bourgeois, so that you may be violent and original in your work.

Giancarlo and I shared the experience of spending our youth as Prostitutes Sezze, uprooted kids. After many misadventures, we had the similar destiny of landing back in Italy and choosing stable men to build families with.

There is a lot about my American side that doesn't trickle into my Italian life and vice versa, but Gian knew both sides of my Prostitutes Sezze and I knew both sides of his.

He managed to turn what had been a lifelong conflict about identity Prostitutes Sezze belonging into "just another adventure. Hearing Gian speak about them, the way he described their badassness or their outfits or the difficult choices they were making in their lives or in their writing, inspired me and made me feel that out there in Prostitutes Sezze world, somewhere between Sezze, Portland, New Orleans, and New York, there was a group I could call a tribe: Catherine Foulkrod, Chelsea Hudson, Lauren Cerand, Martina Testa, EMA, Kaitlin Phillips, Megan Boyle, Marie Calloway to name a few.

If he loved them, I knew I could love them Prostitutes Sezze. Some I've never even met in person, but feel like I've known them all my life. EMA, the singer whom he introduced me to at the tail end of her tour with Depeche Mode inended up doing a phenomenal soundtrack for a film I had written with Prostitutes Sezze partner Prostitutes Sezze, an adaptation of Amanda Prostitutes Sezze film "Wonder When You'll Miss Me.

He created an invisible sisterhood for us. One of the last things Gian spoke about before he took off for NY in March was a series he'd been working on with Catherine Foulkrod called Still Life. He had sent me their pilot episode with the idea of bringing it to Netflix and I when I read it I was overwhelmed by the quantity of overlaps there were with Gian's final days.

Resting in power sounds like fucking work, man. I don't want power when I die, I just want to be let alone.

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Please don't pile on extra responsibility for me once I'm dead. As a true Prostitutes Sezze he went out at his peak and the "Still Life" playlist has been keeping me company because it feels like a musical declaration of all his Prostitutes Sezze.

There is darkness and light, beauty and grit, desperation and hilarity, it's music that talks about the desire to live life with all its contradictions. Like Gian told me on that morning after my anxiety-inducing debaucherous night, the very conflict between these opposing forces is what makes life beautiful and interesting.

It's an ode to Prostitutes Sezze you are given in life versus what you are actually looking for: I went looking for waking But they're giving me dream And I wanted the night But they're making me sleep I went looking for knives And they're giving me blooms I went looking for knives And I was looking for you In Prostitutes Sezze dance Prostitutes Sezze what he was looking for and what he was given, Giancarlo managed to slip into a portal, an interstice where he could have both things at the same time, which is so perfectly Gian.

The initial conversation transmitted through an early 2k flip phone Prostitutes Sezze "Hey man, Peter told me to call you, he said you take sick photos; I have like NO dough, BUT, wanna come and shoot a cover for my journal? I can pay in whiskey or whatever other inebriants you might want, unlimited. I photographed him as best I could shortly after that initial conversation; we flailed around his midtown studio apartment and caught Prostitutes Sezze.

Rufus the bulldog kept watch. Gian gave me so many good stories to ruminate on, Prostitutes Sezze that first day. Those photos are actually Prostitutes Sezze next level.

Remind me to show you. We got very drunk right after I made those images; we were friends from then on. True friends. I have lots of stories Prostitutes Sezze the requested word Prostitutes Sezze here sits on my shoulder.

I was always one of the first people he called whenever he returned to New York after he left the city for a life in Italy. I always felt honored; I'm a photographer, not much of an intellectual but he still showed me Prostitutes Sezze much love.

Thank you for liking me Gian. He left me late night voice messages frequently. And I remain so grateful for those. Now to this: Gian was a literary world sage, one with an uncompromising vision of what he liked when it came to writing. I knew this despite my separate, art world life, myself a literary world moron. He published and edited a lot of very singular work and the world is a better place for it.

I know this. He pushed his chosen artistic genre forward. Not many can say that they have. Gian was also a sweetheart, generous and kind and very funny, very wild at heart. He will be missed forever by everyone who knew him. He was a super mensch, albeit one with an edge. He might call me a "loser" for writing this tribute but it would be said with love. One of my very favorite memories as an adult is that of hanging out with him and his husband Giuseppe in Rome.

Great food, great conversation, beautiful environs, lots Prostitutes Sezze laughs. We were having so Prostitutes Sezze fun one night in Trastevere that an old Italian lady threw water out of a window to try and extinguish our mirth.

True story. Take Prostitutes Sezze old Italian lady. I'll miss you so much my Prostitutes Sezze. You were an edition of one, there is no chance of another like you. He was Prostitutes Sezze only one I spoke to, the only one I let into my life during this time a couple years ago where I was putting anything into my body, trying to escape it.

I couldn't look people in Prostitutes Sezze eye or be alone, I couldn't think for myself or read quietly on anything that didn't scroll with the tap of my finger. I was in extreme pain and worse, I didn't know it. But he was the only one. He chose this neighborhood on purpose. Me, a Prostitutes Sezze, living with my grandmother and then, post-bucket-kick, alone.

He liked it here. The seedy remnants, resiliently standing their ground from the time the Westies tossed a days-old dead body from the twenty-something floor of an apartment building Prostitutes Sezze the roof of a parked cab. This weirdo grimy gayborhood, persisting somehow better than Chelsea or either of the villages. Orange tops Prostitutes Sezze scatter the streets, cracked plastic shattering Prostitutes Sezze soles of tourists' sneakers.

Crack smoke wafts all Prostitutes Sezze, just pass the Chipotle or find that stoop made famous by one of the several violent attacks that made national news this past year.

Blood still spills on Prostitutes Sezze sidewalk daily, regardless of whatever franchise just moved in. These colors don't run. If you know anything about it up here, it's probably from visiting Gian's musty Prostitutes Sezze 46th street first floor studio.

There really wasn't much Prostitutes Sezze to come around otherwise, but if anyone could get people to party above 14th street, it was him. Gian sprouted up from the earth out of nowhere. Suddenly he just existed, seemingly always having had, always already in the back of Ninth Avenue Saloon or KGB, pulling out tattered Prostitutes Sezze before they became coasters underneath Prostitutes Sezze pints, inviting all his friends out, Prostitutes Sezze different Prostitutes Sezze and timelines.

That seating plan chart thing wedding planners do, I can't imagine him giving that any credence. I imagine him telling people to stop being Prostitutes Sezze obsessed with themselves and just talk to whoever.

I felt so alone up here. No one lived anywhere close yet here was this guy who hung out with all the coolest people in the city, found and read Prostitutes Sezze published all the coolest shit, taking one of the oldest mediums and imbuing it with something that felt like nothing had before.

It seemed beyond that someone like him existed, let alone so close to me. The first time I Prostitutes Sezze him, I ate too many mushrooms and tried to puke them all out while he played Stevie Nicks piano demos and videos of people in extreme pain.

Early, I walked in and passed Prostitutes Sezze guy in the back at a table for five. It couldn't have Prostitutes Sezze him. I tried to hide in the bathrooms, look less pathetic. It felt ridiculous, so I circled the block. When I came back, Sam and Megan were chatting with him. Gian remembered me dipping in, looking for them. He called me out on Prostitutes Sezze been there and leaving, feigning fashionable lateness. This was during a time where I spent all my time alone—sitting at a receptionist desk, Prostitutes Sezze bed, on my couch—killing time waiting to get drunk with Prostitutes Sezze friends.

I scrolled until I passed out, shouting into social media accounts with an audience in the low, low hundreds. It was beyond me that someone would recognize an average looking brunette loser. I was partially Prostitutes Sezze to be called out, but also gratified to at least have been noticed. Despite any reason or good sense, I ate an entire bag of mushrooms. I had no idea what a trip really is, and it Prostitutes Sezze a bad one. This was when we all went back to my apartment. My elevator was breaking down and there was a long line of real, actual adults trying to get Prostitutes Sezze and get into bed.

For three tripping idiots and their babysitter with a sense of humor, it was excruciating—trying not to look in the mirror, trying not to laugh. At one point I said we should just walk up hundreds of stairs. Finally we made it home, like The Warriors. When he left hours later as I writhed in bed, I remember hearing Prostitutes Sezze ask, "Is she ok? He became more of a person in my life. Incredibly, effortlessly cool, sometimes irritatingly so: he woke up and Prostitutes Sezze asleep at whenever hour, knew everyone, floated through the world reading and Prostitutes Sezze cool books and doing cool shit.

More curiously, he didn't give a shit. In a sea of social climbing losers and heartless careerists, he didn't give a shit—at least about that. About the right things, he cared immensely, maybe too much. About actual friendship.

I signed up for his writing class at Catapult. We tried to Prostitutes Sezze down our friendship in class, but I lingered afterward as he talked to students, waiting for our cab ride back Prostitutes Sezze together. Once, we stopped at the Halal truck all the tourists care about. Still drunk off the bottle of whiskey that refilled every class, I sprayed enormous globs of hot sauce all over my rice, Prostitutes Sezze unaware what I was in for.

Gian did the same. My eyes and nose began leaking rivers into my food, each of us only have two Prostitutes Sezze napkins, completely soaking wet. Sitting on the corporate office building plaza, mucus poured down our faces, the extreme pain of the spice burrowing deeper into our tongues, blaming the other person for the most blisteringly painful meal of my life.

We took a cab back. Opening the door on tenth avenue, he puked. At one of our last lessons, nursing a slight heartbreak that would prove to be temporary, he wrote on the board: Don't date Italians. Don't listen to me. Getting published is gay. Don't write anything marketable.

The other lesson points, which he asked to keep secret, were conveyed with enigmatic, vague descriptions that he needed to Prostitutes Sezze for two minutes to properly communicate.

I remember killing time at Rizzoli books, waiting for his fiance. Gian kept shouting about Dave Eggers, pulling Prostitutes Sezze his books, trying to embarrass me. They have Heartbreaking Work! Here—c'mon, take it! From what I remember, something about the whole scene trying to make literature cool by punching down, putting on airs and upwardly mobile, ironic novels about making sense of the world and knowing better, or knowing Prostitutes Sezze by knowing nothing.

Gian made literature cool by doing the opposite. Tyrant embraced the dredges and the masses, pulling in anyone he could.

His taste was Prostitutes Sezze precise that he knew he'd lose most people, but you never knew who you'd keep. The losers, weirdos, misfits—they need the light left on so they can find you and be found.

A photographer was going to come to my apartment for an indie digital magazine shoot. One of his delusions of flattering grandeur was when he would say I reminded him of Adriana La Cerva, Christopher's girlfriend on The Sopranos.

He even tagged me in screenshots of her. The week of the photoshoot, he told me not to clean my filthy apartment. I was Prostitutes Sezze out my grandma's decades of belongings, depression-born sensibilities hoarding old aspirin bottles and dried up Bic pens, so it was disgusting.

He told me to make it worse—trash it more. He told me to wear heels, get a blowout, get long acrylics and lay among the heaps of Prostitutes Sezze looking impeccable. Gian came back from Italy in love with some guy Prostitutes Sezze met at the wrong train station.

It was absurd—giving up Prostitutes Sezze apartment, the daily life he spent decades building. I was worried about the whole thing. Gian, so open-hearted that it sometimes appeared leaky, would risk too much.

That he would care more, uproot everything and go off following his heart and end up burned. Who whisks themselves away, ending a relationship Prostitutes Sezze begin anew thousands of miles away with Prostitutes Sezze guy on a train? But absurdity made sense for him. He went, it worked out. Gian was always himself no matter where he went. Alone in his room, smoking on the street, waking up at midnight and heading to the bodega for a Philly Cheesesteak, in the back of the bar, on the subway to or from a reading, at Lali for the cash only lunch special, picking up a sandwich from Lenny's, explaining Prostitutes Sezze he stopped ordering from Galaxy Diner because they put quarters in his egg sandwich and it hurt his teeth.

Empathy leaked from his heart, embracing Prostitutes Sezze losers and uglies, or the gorgeous people too shy and fucked up to Prostitutes Sezze effortlessly through the world, people who had known only pain and shouted into the void by reading and writing killer sentences. Or Prostitutes Sezze, innocent fresh faces who somehow know deep pain but keep going. There were people who he didn't like, but I could never guess who it would be. Gian and Giuseppe married Prostitutes Sezze City Hall.

I made their Polaroid wedding photo my phone background, Prostitutes Sezze face a mix of anticipation and gratification; having arrived and looking forward. At his wedding reception, a few of us crouched over a table at The Bowery Hotel, it looked like I was going home with Prostitutes Sezze of his friends.

From across the table, I saw him remain sitting while this guy uncomfortably hunched over him. Later, he told me what Prostitutes Sezze said: You know Darcie Prostitutes Sezze like family to me, right. And if you do anything to fucking hurt her Before he left, Gian gave me anything I wanted. His wooden liquor cabinet, a stained glass poker lamp, a chalice for Catholic sacramental wine, the entire Tyrant catalogue magazines includeda ceramic mold of his teeth.

Regrettably, I passed on the holy water and some other Catholic imagery. He left when it was still hot and sticky, but the details are fuzzy. It felt like he was coming and going a lot then, plus that year all runs together for me. I remember wearing a crop top and layering one of his patterned button down shirts over it. I remember checking to see how it looked Prostitutes Sezze his bathroom with a Marie Calloway sticker on the wall that said the ARC printer had refused to publish some Prostitutes Sezze the content.

I remember seeing the copy of Blake Butler's Sky Saw on the ground of his backyard, stuck between cracks of the cement Prostitutes Sezze he couldn't figure out how to get there. I remember him lamenting Prostitutes Sezze Spencer had convinced him to figure out what sparked joy, and how he missed all his books. I remember when he asked for my book.

Initially, literally show me a healthy person was for Spencer Madsen at Sorry House, but Gian charmed me over steak Prostitutes Sezze at Joe Allen on 46th street. He somehow got Prostitutes Sezze vegan to eat that raw meat. Later we had that fight.

A Prostitutes Sezze public, ugly fight. It was a tinderbox of Prostitutes Sezze first book tensions, my nerves and insecurities, mutual poor communication, time zone differences and two Hell's Kitchen Italian tempers.

I think we both said: Whatever, you want to do this? Let's burn the house down. I like to think I now have more tools and pain endurance to begin and withstand difficult conversations, to approach my friends and loved ones directly instead of the sea of subtweeting away my worst fears. But back then, I did not. I regret it. I brought nothing beyond some Prostitutes Sezze surges of adrenaline on Thanksgiving, my three-month mark of quitting mind-altering chemicals and it showed.

I hope that now I have enough awareness to avoid the little devils on my shoulder, whether it be insecurities, ego, or bad actors as bad influences, to never get in that situation again. After his death, someone told me he Prostitutes Sezze intended to apologize.

I Prostitutes Sezze, too. After the first waves of tension leading up to that fight, someone sent me a picture of the back of his helmet. Two stickers of my avatar, right in front of whoever was on his back, clutching onto him riding through the streets. Even after the worst of the blowout, a new picture of his helmet landed in my inbox.

I was still on it. He made me feel ok about waking up hungover, about being a fuck up. Once I tweeted, "i'm scared of opening my drunk texts to gian but i can't delete the thread cuz he called me pretty in a text once. The Prostitutes Sezze thing Gian gave me before moving was an enormous painting.

A recreation of a classic, it is nearly as Prostitutes Sezze as I Prostitutes Sezze, and I struggled carrying it down the street. He needed it safe, and it was. He told me he couldn't get rid of it, but couldn't figure out how to get it to Italy yet.

It had already made the trip overseas Prostitutes Sezze, after he strapped it to his back while hitchhiking when he was still a teenager. He said he carried it on his back Prostitutes Sezze three whole weeks.

It was irritating, annoying to have my one beloved neighbor leave, let alone that it was Gian. Let alone that it came right on the heels of our escalating friendship. Underneath all of that joy I had for him—the love of his life, a new start in a beautiful setting, his writers' retreat—was the pain of everything ending that wasn't a part of Prostitutes Sezze.

That something was over. But he was still there. Even after we stopped talking, he was still around. It is unbelievable Prostitutes Sezze me Prostitutes Sezze he existed up until a few weeks ago, that I could have spoken Prostitutes Sezze him so recently, that it was so Prostitutes Sezze that we were existing in the same world. Outside his memorial, I met someone for the first time that Gian had told me about awhile ago.

I was telling Prostitutes Sezze anecdote, a tangent as a way to exorcise my insecurities about our relationship, our fight, the whole mess of it.

I continued with the story, saying: "and then she said, Prostitutes Sezze loved you. But I want to believe him. I asked one of our mutual friends about the painting I still have. He and I met Prostitutes Sezze they were playing pool and years later, continue to cross paths.

Once we were at brunch together when I stepped away from the table and upon returning, Gian wasn't wearing a shirt anymore. I asked him what to do with the Prostitutes Sezze, if maybe his family would want it. That I am undeserving. He listened, and delicately asked: " Have you considered keeping it? I assumed I was unworthy to hold onto such a sentimental object, to keep such a big part of him. Our mutual friend suggested I keep it.

Explaining their own arguments with him, breaks from the friendship. I am not new to the pain of friendship breakups and communication breakdowns. But I believe people when they say we would have reconciled. As unrelentingly loving as he could be, I know he could also dig in, using his empathy to know someone's pain points.

I know he accidentally kept my set of keys in his pocket when he flew back to Prostitutes Sezze, and I know I always think it's sweet when people keep useless keys. I know that I cried for days, weeks when I heard; am still crying.

I know that I loved him and Prostitutes Sezze really stopped. Fiery rage of a falling out, getting too close without any idea how to be a person myself let alone with someone else in any type of friendship. I know I grew up to embrace angry chaos Prostitutes Sezze reconcile later, to assume we will always have the opportunity, the time.

I know I did the best I could, and it sucked. I believe people when they say he loved me. People swarmed in Doppler-like formations, pushing their way from low, choked wooden tables to the still more congested stretch of open bar and back again, vying to order as many drinks as possible before it returned to cash service.

Gian was the party's host, beneficiary of the tab. I was nineteen or twenty years old. I knew Prostitutes Sezze one-and-a-half other attendees, and in the middle of introducing myself to Gian, he beckoned I follow him, ushering us into a bathroom stall, where I continued to try to come up with things to say to justify my being there.

Gian told me to hold out my hand and deposited a small pile of cocaine in the dimple between my thumb and index knuckles. I don't remember anything else from that night. Over the decade that followed, many more such nights would pass. Gian's ceaseless, nonchalant generosity would continue to move me.

He loomed over and slithered beneath a literary world that enamored and confused me. Gian enamored and confused me, too. Penetratingly sharp, warm, Prostitutes Sezze receptive, he was equally, simultaneously ambivalent, slovenly, blunt, even unwitting. And Tyrant—then mostly defunct as a print journal, and only a couple books in—seemed to epitomize this odd balance: at the precipice of a critical avant-garde, and yet wallowing in the aloof, punkish muck of whatever reverie. There was something at once alluring, embracing, exclusive, and repulsive about Gian and the literature he championed.

Even when I suspected he was missing the mark, I knew it clicked. I could never really knock his judgment, because anything he undertook, he did so with such vision, integrity, and editorial acumen: always true to the writer, the work, and to the publisher, who was inseparable from Gian the person. In this way, Prostitutes Sezze was the essence of no-brow. He knew what he liked, and he didn't care what that meant to other people. He didn't care if the readers showed up. Prostitutes Sezze, he gave the writing everything, and Prostitutes Sezze couldn't help but immerse Prostitutes Sezze in the wake of that devotion.

Poignant, devastating feats, undermining and redefining the meaning of fiction, and given life by a publisher who understood the threads of hurt and catharsis these works derived from and accomplished. When I learned of Gian's death, I pulled Prostitutes Sezze my Tyrant books off the shelves.

I Prostitutes Sezze in the tactile quality of their design. I spent the evening talking and texting with people, sharing memories about Gian, and realizing how much of my young adulthood happened because Prostitutes Sezze the writing he published and the people that orbited around him. I scrolled through old emails we'd exchanged.

And therein a bevy of text recalled his realness, his frankness, his constant munificence. Responding to an unrelated message from two years prior to congratulate me Prostitutes Sezze something I'd published. Encouraging me to send him stories and manuscripts. Putting me in touch with writers he knew. Sending me free books and galleys. Setting up transactions to buy, trade, Prostitutes Sezze barter cocaine, pills, and LSD. Promoting and aiding in the publication of my own editorial pursuits.

He offered a simple, no-frills professionalism-cum-friendship, which he took completely seriously and casually, and always with Prostitutes Sezze thrum of laughter, detectable even through those pert, abrupt correspondences.

I think Gian lived about as ideally as a person can be expected to. He had money and resources, and instead of leveraging them to elevate himself, he gave and gave, generating new platforms for publishing, uplifting young and overlooked outsiders, speaking and tweeting with candor, widening Prostitutes Sezze perspective on what art and literature can and should achieve, and never failing to remain humble as a stump.

People don't have enough respect or admiration for editors and publishers, let alone radical ones. And I know Prostitutes Sezze aforementioned literary world Prostitutes Sezze going to witness a palpable void without him.

It already has. It's a loss, for everyone. Just a terrible Prostitutes Sezze, a missing thing, which nothing will come and take the place of. But it Prostitutes Sezze also a reminder: we can and must become Prostitutes Sezze publishers, writers, distributors, and advocates we want to exist in the world.

Gian contributed in a manner few even know how to aspire to, and if I can honor him by being an open and giving person, a curious and discerning reader, an incisive editor, an indefatigable writer and rewriter, a lover of language, and foremost a lover of the myriad voices and sources by which that expression arises, then I'll have made good on the hospitality he sent in my direction.

Thank you, Gian, for your largesse, your kindness, your potency, your genuineness, and your friendship. Thank Prostitutes Sezze, Tao, for publishing these words, and for continuing to advance Gian's legacy of independent, instinctive, sincere, and shrewd publishing. Thank you to everyone for whom literature is Prostitutes Sezze conduit to joy, critical thinking, and expansion.

I'm humbled to have been around for it. I'm grateful to be around for more. After I emailed my thoughts on Gian to Tao, I reread them so many times the words stopped having impact. The prose was tight and accurate. But they lacked something—emotion, depth, closeness.

I wasn't sure. I didn't know if it mattered. I figured it wasn't about me. It was about how I wanted to pay homage to a late, daring publisher, dear to myself and clearly so many others. Gian and I were not intimate friends. In fact, I'm not sure we ever hung out one-on-one. Maybe only for a few Prostitutes Sezze, to complete a drug deal or something.

But I've held our interactions in an esteemed, earnest place, and I maintain only respect and empathy for him. The few personal exchanges we shared between us, I wanted to keep to myself, to hold and cherish. I'll admit, I can be selfish with my memories. The night before, I'd arrived in New York for the first time in seven months.

The longest I'd ever spent away from the city since I moved there in and moved away in Leaving New York took a long time. It happened Prostitutes Sezze fits and starts. Everyone who moves there to pursue writing or art or whatever has their own narrative like this. It's not important.

I walked down the steps of my partner's parents' apartment and scrolled through my phone, searching for something to listen to on the walk to Greenpoint to visit a friend. Suddenly I was transported to When I felt betrayed by everyone, warmth toward and from no one, and posting on Instagram was my most consistent outlet Prostitutes Sezze communicating this loneliness and frustration and pain.

I told him, and he responded with almost gushing gratitude, messaging again a few hours later to reiterate how much he loved Prostitutes Sezze song. Over the following weeks, I noticed its appearance on his own social media, and I was touched. I was glad to have been able to share something with Gian. I was glad he could find solace and exaltation in the agonizing, delicate music of this flawed, disruptive, polarizing, and tragically dead artist, as I had. And maybe I could be a little less stingy with my memories and emotions.

And maybe I'm a Prostitutes Sezze closer to Gian still. When we were back in Rome together he seemed happier than ever everytime we saw him. Whenever Prostitutes Sezze went to NYC we worried cuz he seemed to go back to his old ways I didn't think it was my right. I didn't know him well like the others, like you. We kept missing each other. The last time we missed each other was December Prostitutes Sezze, Gian probably wouldn't have shown at the Algonquin too square, lolbut I would have gotten to see him later at the reading and, most likely, have hung out with him and Gari, etc, after.

Instead I spent the night before in the E. I feel this regret like I feel the regret of never having seen Prostitutes Sezze live. In the end, I decided Prostitutes Sezze write one of these remembrances? I remember a year after writing the essay that got me mostly banished from the lit world, trying to set up a reading in NYC. It was hard Prostitutes Sezze. I asked Scott what to do and Prostitutes Sezze told me to ask Gian. There will be no problems there. I believe you that Prostitutes Sezze aren't getting responses just due to lazy people not wring you back but I honestly don't think it's because of the "scandal.

But I'm kind of an outsider in the lit scene here so maybe I just don't hang out with people who care about that thank God.

But who knows what these idiots think. Just a month or so ago I was accosted outside of a bar by Prostitutes Sezze New Inquiry person because I published Calloway's book like what… two years ago!

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Alessandra is extremely accommodating and was so nice and helpful. I really recommend to stay at Lucillas place. We loved staying in Andrea's place! A lover with his treatment and elegance will captivate you, your evenings great ideal for business dinners and leisure travel or work conversationalist. Dea del Piacere, l'amante Prostitutes Sezze che hai sempre desiderato. During our stay he kept in contact with us and made sure that we had everything we needed. Love, affection, kisses, and pleasant conversation.

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The place was a bit hot the first night due to the heat wave, but Prosttiutes easily adjusted for the Prostitutes nights. Termini Train Prostitutes Sezze a 5-minute walk Prostitutes Sezze. The apartment is Sezze, has everything you could need for a Prostitutes city stay and has a very homely feel.

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He had sent me their pilot episode with the idea of bringing it to Netflix and I when I read it I was overwhelmed by the quantity of overlaps there were with Gian's final days. The losers, weirdos, misfits—they need the light left on so they can find you and be found.

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