I have been blessed with a rich life of people and experiences; quite frankly, there is no reason in science why I should still be alive, but for the thought that divine providence chose me to record and later report all I saw. This brings me to Sweetie. What a tragic character on the stage of life. She was what some would call a "package deal"; she was the best friend of a guy who became my boyfriend in 1989. With this package came all of Sweetie's little faults. She liked parks, and not for the reason of preserving them (unless it was to have a bush to hide behind). When I adopted her that year she immediately adopted Stuyvesant Park as her playground. Then, there was her drug habit; she just had to have it all the time. Quickly, I realized that I had to make a bad situation work for me; she was just taking way too much of my money not to. So, I dressed her up for photos knowing that in the era of Club Kid Land, anyone would be attracted to a freak. Sweetie was the best; as long as she was fed a constant stream of liquor and coke she did anything I asked. She was known as my retarded daughter, but there was nothing retarded about her. As much as I used her, she used New York City's glitterati; she was working in the airline industry and everyone wanted a deal. I truly admired how Sweetie parlayed it all; she was--and is--a pro. We always understood each other completely, even after our mutual acquaintance was gone.

In this photo (taken at Wigstock in 1990), she attached the caption: "Taxes? Why should I pay taxes? That money only goes to pay for things I could not possibly use." She still addresses me as Daddy O, and I still call her my Sweetie.