Updated 3 months ago
November 28, 1972 – August 6, 2011
When I knew Blaise in the late 1990s in Manhattan, he was a handsome playboy drug dealer. We both ran in pretty fast circles at the time.
We had mutual friends that sold MDMA out of midtown. One of them, Little Dave, I knew stretching all the way back to him delivering me marijuana in the early 1990s when I lived in Chelsea. By the 1998 I was living on 51st and 8th in an apartment with a walkout rooftop that was part of the 2nd floor that overlooked a street of Times Square.
I was working in advertising sales at the time, and Blaise was friends with my roommates, who were also into the party scene.
Austin was a happy go lucky, very style-conscious urbanite. Always eager to please, he loved this song that I played often that magical summer as we hung out on our roof by my kiddie pool as we did bumps of Ketamine:
I went to California for business one week, and my roommates were also away. I flew back on Sunday and walked back into my apartment. Blaise was upstairs in my hammock. I found out he had been living there all week, using my apartment to sell ecstasy from. I yelled at Blaise until he cried. He was a good guy deep down, who honestly felt bad about the shortcuts he made.
I called Big Dave, his supplier, who I also knew. “It was the perfect location – anonymous!” he said, before agreeing to not do that again.
Blaise ended up meeting a neighbor who lived downstairs who danced at Tens, a men’s club. She told me stories of him buying $1,200 Dolce & Gabbana underwear. They moved into a high rise together with a stunning view of New York. But his lifestyle caught up with him. His constant traffic from drug dealing had apparently forced them to move out. Distraught, she moved to Texas.
Big Dave and his ring got busted shortly after Blaise’s moving-in incident. Big Dave moved to Virginia.
I lost touch with Blaise much later. He probably stopped his life of crime and became legit. But somewhere along the line, he apparently died from a heart attack from a cocaine overdose. I had never known him to do anything like that.
New York is a little less exciting with Blaise gone. Here is a poem one of his girlfriends, a gorgeous and intellectual poet from the Midwest, had written in angst in 1999 after they had broken up, and it ultimately proved prophetic:
Similar to what I assume my legacy will be, Blaise was a major social force that brought many cool people together. In that respect, the relationships forged then continue to this day.
I am happy we are both drug-free now.
Thank you Blaise. Rest in peace my friend.
Austin’s Facebook
Austin’s Memorial Page on Legacy.com
