There’s First Hand Smoke, Second Hand Smoke, and Third Hand Smoke.

Then there’s spending an evening with Zachary Johnson, which I suspect is stronger than first hand smoke.

When most people take a smoking break, they’re taking a break to smoke. When Zachary Johnson takes a smoking break, he steps on the balcony and doesn’t smoke for 5 minutes. Then he steps back inside and gets back to it.

I sometimes think New York City with its buildings and girls and bars exists solely so that it can be drawn and written about by Zach. He works and hones his work because he is compelled to, like there is some demon inside him screaming and you can hear it in each picture, like he made a deal years ago which he keeps. He is relentless and kind at the same time. He is also like twenty feet tall.

Drunk one night in a bar at 230am he drew me a picture on a napkin. I should frame it, but I feel compelled to keep it in my pocket. Whenever I take it out and show it to people, they say, “holy shit! who the fuck drew that? Why is it on a napkin and not framed?”

The caption he wrote on the picture is: “Ronen, don’t be sad. there are still boobs.”

:)