Dear Diary:
Curiously, Lou Reed had an apartment in the building where my ex-husband, Howard, and I lived in the early ’90s, on West End Avenue towering over Zabar’s. It was a newish, charmless cookie-cutter high rise.
One time Lou, Howard and I rode down 22 floors in the fully mirrored small elevator together. I was oblivious of Lou but aware of Howard’s reflection trying to telegraph very important news with his eyes. The three of us walked around the block, and it wasn’t until Broadway that Lou was far enough away for Howard to say, “Lou Reed.†Fool, I am!
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