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.
