those lady boys can tie a mean knot- getting a few of them to scurry around on deck as you raced the america's cup could give quite the advantage. if nothing else, the emerging Carradine stories give us men hope that crazy shit well into our seventies is a distinct possibility -- chasing down that sweet release. i had my doubts honestly.

granted, i know there was that story about tony curtis knocking a chick up when he was seventy, then the enquirer put out photos of him pushing a baby stroller with headline "babystroller or walker?" and everyone laughed it up, but David makes it almost seem romantic by comparison. red silk robes, cute little games with the local sex rats, a bjork remix looping nonstop because he wanted it that way, all set to an ecstasy-fueled slow motion. one can only imagine.

i was driving today and suddenly wondered "what was david's last thought? i bet it was ice cream.. or maybe a sandy beach, kind of empty with no people, just looking out onto the span of the thing. low tide." after that I thought about something else.

three words: honesty, fragility, sex machine. THAT was David, and that's how we'll remember him. he didn't just have 'em. he had 'em all over the world.