quoted: the diary of nathan adler
friday, december 31, 1999, 10.30 am
"I'm drinking up the Oxford Town, New Jersey fume.
Salty and acid.
Maybe I can get a handle on this thing back in Soho at the bureau.
It used to be Rothko's studio, now the playground for all us Art-Crime folk, AC' or "the daubers" as we're dubbed.
Rothko himself, in a dark-deep-drunk one night, carefully removed his clothes, folded them up neatly, placing them upon a chair, lay upon the floor in a crucified position and after several attempts, found the soft blue pump of wrists and checked out. He'd held the razor blades between wads of tissue paper so that he wouldn't cut his fingers.
Deep thinker.
Always was."
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