A most vivid memory is of smoking cigarettes and drinking shots and beers together at the end of the bar at the Pink Flamingo in 1990 or thereabouts, separating ourselves from the crowds of our friends who were dancing around and arguing and comparing writing and painting and film projects and basically loving one another. By our proximity we were loving them, too.

With no relief Penny was obstreperous – and fun to be around, as far as I was concerned. (I liked tough women.) An old pal walked over to me and tried to warn me away from her. I was too drunk to move, but wouldn’t have anyway. At night’s end, a friend of a friend got me home, safe and sound. A happy memory, all around.