

Joe Brainard may have handed James Franco a free pass to the “New York School,” where during the 50s and 60s, poets, painters, dancers, and musicians (unemployment check in one pocket, manifesto in the other) all “hung out” and made stuff out of cardboard or something. Of our most “generational” literary places: Paris gave you nihilism, Bloomsbury gave you spell-check, New York gave you solipsism, and San Francisco — thanks Haight St. — gave you lice. It’s a good life to be a good looker, and charm doesn’t hurt. Brainard died of AIDS, Franco died of Spiderman, and we all die after the break.






