In other news, I actually ventured out myself this week and read at the Bowery Poetry Club. Gin and Tonic in hand, and with my new dime store reading glasses perched on the end of my nose, I read a part of sweet little fable I’ve been fiddling with. The crowd was young and kind, many of the other readers funny or at least wildly enthusiastic ( careful about sitting to close to the stage) . Yes, I hate to admit it, but it was another charming evening. It’s enough to make you question whether New New York really is the desicated yuppie shit hole we’ve come to bemoan.

Perhaps, just perhaps, there still is something to this place.

I miss the early 70’s - The pimps strutting in their mink coats, rats the size of VWs, going up to the roof to star gaze with your doorman and instead keeping track every day as the car on the corner was stripped of tires, wheels, headlights, the engine. And this on the Upper East Side. I miss the eighties too- free drinks, dope, and Derrida. No so much the Derrida. And the 90’s - Igloos on Tenth Avenue. Oh, for the smell of piss in the gutters!

Still, if you can’t have that, you can at least have the Neuvo Euro NYC. A good glass of (Red)wine, 200 calories of butter, and a smashed or pretending to be smashed college girl, lifting up her shirt, looking repeatedly at her tits in the mirrors at Balz. and declaring,
” The right one is definitely bigger. Much. That motherfucker plastic surgeon sonofabitch!
Why oh why did I have to get my tits in LA! … I’m stupid, fucking stupid!”
The person beside her seemed to agree, either that or his repeated nodding indicated some kind of neurological disorder.

One more thing. If you are ever in Downtown Jersey City and need a notebook and pen ( don’t ask) the only store for at least 15 blocks is the CVS at the Harborside Financial Center. (No, this is not pathetically obvious product placement) I just thought that even if I couldn’t get that half hour of my life back, and believe me aimlessly wandering around JC is less exciting than you might imagine, at least I can keep you from falling into the same vortex of annoyance and indecision. Venturing to New Jersey requires the same preparation as crossing the Gobi Desert. Bring your own supplies, good shoes, and a compass, because no one knows where a single fucking thing is! Oh, and never make the mistake of asking directions. The only person who seemed to know anything at all was a hot dog vendor on Montgomery street near this sculpture of the giant nude polish woman brandishing a sword
( you tell me). He didn’t know much English, but he understood pointing, the value of carrying your gold in your teeth, and the significance of the 10 cent hot dog.

There are historians everywhere.

It reminds me of a cab ride i took maybe a decade ago. He was old school, or just goddamn old. Anyway, he promised me a smooth ride, the sort you don’t get anymore, especially in those jacked up suv’s they’ve decided can sub for the Crown Victoria. He takes me from West 58th to East 10th,maybe even further downtown. Smooth as silk. The lights turn in our favor, the potholes move to let us through without so much as a flutter from the struts. Now that’s a cab ride!

peace.

I am coming down , thankfully, without having signed away my life and needing to avoid only a half dozen people for the next month as a result. Oh, and my friend Vijay Balakrishnan (find him if you can, lucky ones) is making remarkable minimalist pictures with his thumb and fingers. Spiritual portals he calls them, and they definitely work. I was talking to a member of a coven yesterday who insisted that the new witch needs a good working knowledge of quantum physics if she wants to be taken seriously. Seems that’s now part of the intro classes. Damn. Even the fun stuff is getting complicated.

For now, s.e.

Going on that crazy new Yorker benefit trip this weekend, where I will get my ‘passport” rubber stamped with little replicas of a variety of artist’s paintings. It’s for a good cause, but geez, these bourgoise types never give up with the holiday thing. Me, I like to stay home whenever I can. If only it wasn’t for those pesky creatures under the floor boards.

i will give you the down low as soon as I know what the fuck that means. In the mean time this is s.e. going somewhere other than here. … What?…