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article 2019-04-29 124623_16.html

Where to begin. Dear Juliet I dedicate this one to you. though you will never read it. Juliet does send me one of her brilliant yet brief epitaphs, something about whispering into my ear in the early morning hours before dawn that I have secret lover for all time that I can always run into the warm and welcoming arms of. I take it to be her regardless of whether that was the intention of her message or not. I am madly in love with the potential of Juliet and do not feel threatened by it at all because we are separated by well over three thousand miles and entirely different lifestyles. So it is indeed a secret love that can never sour as long as we never take any further than where it is now. perfect. pure.

The poet, our drummer of course, came into town tonight. the first of the guys. tomorrow morning the rest of the guys pull in. we go to the apocalypse lounge to meet some of his friends. East village. Walking around that I feel down there as though any minute you are three yards from an impending drug deal going down from all sides. A grungy area that when I was a younger man I cherished, and now feel more comfortable admiring from afar. Perhaps, I remark to the poet, that as you become older you simply become more uptown, and that’s just the way it is. regardless of the plausibility of my words ever ringing true enough to become prophecy, it has certainly happened for me. I couldn’t feel more comfortable on the upper east side, even though I couldn’t look more east village if I tried. This is the dichotomy of character that I have lived with all of my life. but now I am very comfortable in it.

If you are a person who drives, as most of us are here in America, you know that homey comfort you get from getting inside your car. especially if you have a car you really like. It becomes a part of you. and when you are inside of it you feel as though you are in your second home, your home away from home. in New York you don’t have that because you don’t have a car in New York. Some people I hear, but most don’t. you don’t drive anywhere but instead you just walk or take a cab or take the subway everywhere.

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Uncategorized driving, Labels: cigars, living in new york, New York Inspiration, secret love, transcendence diaries

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