Why is Frank Rich so brilliant? I’m not for Hillary precisely because I think she could have galvinized the Democrats to lead the fight against the war. She had so much power, and she chose not to use it to pander to people….oh she makes me crazy.
I know I’m doing the right thing in selling. The New York I love lives on in memory. Here’s a link to a performance at The Kitchen, a place I didn’t think was unique in 1979.
1979 was the year my ex bought the club I never mention by name. When I was clearing out the storage cage I found the book he wrote about the club and The Village. I’m taking that book. It contains some of my best lines, given to other people as we weren’t speaking that year. Still I’m fond of the book and find the line thing endearing.
1979 was the year I met Zachary who wasn’t named Zachary, at the club, one perfect Sunday when I went to see his friend, Lucinda, in one of her New York debuts. I wish he hadn’t done the gun to the head thing as his CD’s–a term not yet in existence in 79–live on in the Folkways collection at The Smithsonian. I know I sound cavalier when I talk about his suicide. I wish he were alive. I think he could have been a combination Steve Earle and I’m not sure–I have read him described as a “radical” and I laugh. The Zachary I knew was into making bumper stickers against the oil embargo. They’re probably still on the wall in The Grass Roots, a bar on St Marks that was a copy of The Maple Leaf in New Orleans. The Zachary I knew was manipulative, abusive and very much wanted to be loving and great.
I chose to remember the songs he would sing to me. I chose to remember the good times and there were many. I was young and even less mature. I moved in with him two days after we met. I didn’t move in with him because he was good looking but for the most primal and real of all reasons. He was that good. I knew then I was making a mistake but my body took over my mind, and so I bear some responsibility for everything that happened. I have never pretended to be a good role model.
People are wrong when they equate New York in the 70’s with despair. It had a vitality so lacking now. I could have been one of the princesses insulated against the grime and effervescence. I chose to be an uptown girl on a downtown train. I chose to work with people who hadn’t grown up with everything that I had. I chose to know people who had nowhere to go but up. I was the center of Zachary’s life but he wasn’t of mine. I had many friends and chose to spend much time with them.
Life wasn’t all about making money. People didn’t have to live in buildings filled with amenities. Yes New York was less expensive, but we didn’t have expectations of wealth, roof decks, Sub Zeros. Lucia had the tiniest most adorable studio and took in somebody we worked with who had fallen on hard times. Oh she ended up as a puta, but we didn’t know that she would go that route. The point was people looked out for each other.
I have learned from blogging that I can’t expect people to understand the life I led then. That I could be happy living with a man in a really not converted store front just off The Bowery. My friends and I were talking the other night about how the happiest we ever were was when we were making five dollars an hour. After work we would go to a grungy bar across the street and eat dinner for free. I ate many chicken wings then. Clubs, there were so many with so much incredible music. You could go to The Empire Diner and see Tom Waits play the piano at three in the morning. He was never there when I was but still….I met many people who went on to become famous, others just rich, others just regular people. There’s a bond between us I haven’t seen replicated and really can’t explain.
I can’t expect people to understand that the years after Nam were filled with much hope and promise. Those of us lucky enough to live in Manhattan with a downtown sensibility lived a life rich in people, in art, in theater, in music.
Lucia ended up managing a decorative plaster shop on Lafayette. Every night was a party. People would think it was an opening and beg to be let in. It made us laugh as we just had a couple of bottles of cheap but decent wine, some basic food, a few joints. If they agreed to get more wine sometimes we would let them.
Galleries weren’t just galleries but places where you could drink wine and mingle with many. I did meet Dr Ruth one too many times–Wiki her, I’m not in the mood. And one night was put in charge of Sylvia Miles at the club. I’m pretty sure she’s the person who it was said about “she would go to the opening of an elevator.” Think the line was “…opening of an esclatotor,” which I believe to be funnier but have been corrected so many times over the years. “no it has to be….”
I had no idea what to do with her. Didn’t know her movies. Asked her what her favorite role was and who her favorite leading man was. Figured those questions were good for an hour or three. I was right She was old, to us, burnt out, but damn if she wasn’t everywhere
The 70’s through mid 80’s were amazing years and I wouldn’t have missed a second of it.
I just divided this post into two. The second part is about all about clubs
For the month of December this blog will be a positive blog, and only look at the bright side of thing. Maybe it was cathartic to write about the unpleasant sides, but it was painful, and I’m not sure useful. That is not in anyway negating what I have written. Zachary did abuse me. The fault for that lies solely with him. I saw signs from the beginning that made me uncomfortable and told him. I didn’t go with my instincts but with my hormones and that was wrong. We did have a great first six months.
First however, this the first article I have read on the economy that makes real sense. Scary, very scary. And I do, or did understand money. The stock market afforded me a nice life. When I sell my apartment, I’m going to go for safety. Maybe a bit risk, but just a bit…
Blogger is totally undermining the concept of the blogosphere as one large community. I’m Google obsessed but might rethink that. I’m the top Google search for too many things. I don’t say that proudly. I’m not an expert on Klonopin and cigarettes.
I’m not an expert on many things I can be found at the top of Google searches for. Or The Times or CNN. My friend got tickets for an all day seminar on how to make money off the Internet and be the top search. That costs $25.
If we want “real knowledge” we will have to pay $2,770. In their dreams. But I wouldn’t mind being great at search engine optimizum for something that actually brings in money. Maybe I can take what I learn on Monday and….Sure. I wish I wasn’t so damn jaded.