DANTE'S STATUE - LINCOLN CENTER

Sisyphisian Task - Ditch Plains

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May 13, 1991 - Bangkok - Journal Entry

Last year this time I was hiking up a river to the Langtang Glacier. The year before I was selling diamonds for the Winicks on 47th Street and in 1989 I was in New York working at Eric Beamon, planning on spending the summer in Perpignan. My passport has three entries to Paris from that year. Why I can't remember why. 1986 I was working at the Milk Bar front door, watching Seventh Avenue with Joel Bernard, my Haitian bouncer. My years were wasted as a doorman. Standing outside while all the action was inside. How long has it been since I threw a punch. A long time.

Now I'm in Bangkok.

This morning I went to the Bangkok GPO.

My only letters were from Irina K. Pamphlets about the Haute Savoie in German, a short note from my father, and two letter from Aunt Jane and the Pampolones.

My friends are either illiterate nor else I disappeared into the ether of their world. Far from thought. I send postcards, always listing the next destination's poste restante as my address. I do get letters, but what more can I expect. I'm on the other side of the world.

The silence from Paris is deafening.

I don't exist.

I had stopped my novel ALMOST A DEAD MAN.

No progress for two months. The longest break since I left the USA.

Too much pot and lack of privacy on Koh Tao, so I fled to the Malaysia Hotel and Patpong and the Soi Duplei bar, Kenny's.

Tomorrow I'm heading south to Pattaya to stay with Michel and his daughter. I'll make a collect call to Andrew and Richie. I stole a Paul Theroux books from Asia Books. THE LOOP. He published his first book at 26. At that age I was a bouncer at Hurrah and going out with Ann or Lisa Johnson. I have always wondered if I would see Lisa again. The last time was in Paris at the Nouvelle Eve. She was still with Vadim or was it in the Metropolitan Museum buying a Christmas card. How old is she now?

32?

30?

28?

Dustin Pittman said she was younger than she said, but she was a nutter.

Vinnie Gallo he had seen her walking barefooted around the East Village when I was going out with her.

He was also from Buffalo.

Better I should never see her again.

The past is the past.

Long gone.

Why does the past haunt the future?

Better to go to Kenny's and have a beer with the girls.

Zee is my favorite.

And Kenny is always a good time.

Westbound Train Montauk 12/24/2025

Sitting on the west end stairs of the Montauk train platform Sun on my face No one in sight No sea gulls No cars Only the train yard The rails gleam in the afternoon sun Polished by trains Transporting passengers to and from points West___ The steel dates back to the last century The engine and cars too I also come from the 20th century Past Navy Beach The trees of Hither Hills younger__
Ancient we are Trains tracks and me Though not as old as the sun falling on my skin, the rails, the steps Everything old as now Young as now too__ 5:17 Departure to Jamaica 5:19 I board Right on time Sit in the middle of the first car Three years ago a conductor told me His favorite seat "First car Less weekenders." North side seat View of Montauk Bay Then Neapaque Bay And then the thousands od dead pines Fallen ghosts never to rise again Until the rise of saplings After the Forest Fire of 2026__ Sun still lowering to the horizon Sunset 8:03 Right on time At one with eternity West bound To Jamaica And forever__

Dove HappyHappy

May 14, 1978 - East Village - Journal

Actors are all full of shit.

Expecting attention for an unending of neuroses. Pretending to be someone they are not. Unless they're funny they bore me. Artists are much better. I prefer workers like Patrick the cook and Kim's friend Amos.

Amos's a Southerner always quiet. I didn't know why Kim explained he was dyslexic. "He never finished high school. He can't read and he can't read it write "

Back in Boston I taught at a Special Ed school. The kids were very challenged. Most couldn't read. Most couldn't write. Some couldn't speak. I sang to them. Write. As a child I had trouble speaking. Stutters stammers mumbles lisps eating my words. My schoolmates were not kind. I wanted to kill them all. I wanted to join the Marines and come back to my hometown as a killer. Amos must feel the same way and that's why he's in New York. Because people like us belong here.

Home must have been torture for Amos to stay in school.

He's a good man and he likes me, because I dislike Marky from the Ghosts. But I no longer dislike Marky. He once tore up a picture of mine. It reminded me being bullied. I didn't hit him. Wanted to, but didn't, since my father used to say, "You have to compromise."

I never saw why, but maybe one day I might.

Four fat lesbians

I like the idea of Subway suicide Laying on the tracks The steel wheels running over me Not stopping Not screeching The A train 40 miles an hour heading to Times Square

At that Kim's apartment Amos Cyrena, Kim and I drink party shots. It's afternoon. Sean leans against the plastic wall. He falls through it. No fun. we leave for a dracula film.

ER Waiting Room

Last Thursday I headed out to Montauk to resume my weekend gig at Winick Diamonds on 771 Montauk Highway. The usual 8:18 departure from Jamaica Station. I sat on the left side to avoid the glare of the morning sun. The old disel train hauled the newer yet still old passenger cars down the line. Everything was so familar. This routine entering its third year. Weekends in Montauk from May to December 24. Weekend days in the city. Familiar, although a few changes. I had moved from Clinton Hill to the NYU professor housing at the end of April. Back into the city after twenty-four years in Thailand, Palm Beach, Fort Greene, Luxembourg, and Clinton Hill. Different, but the same.

The train ride was uneventful. Spring was slowly spreading east throughout suburban Long Island. Slowly. It had been a long cold winter. I fell asleep at one point and woke at last past Amagansett with the train its 60 plus MPH through the beetle-ravaged Pine Barren. Not a single pine had survied the infestation. Last weekend a park ranger explained that the seedlings await a burn. He didn't hazard a guess as to when the fallen forest will catch light. I estimated July.

The train arrived on time. 10:55. Dermont the taxi driver was late, thinking I had caught the Jitney. I avoid the alternate transport to and from the city. Too many of 'them' of those luxury buses. $12 for a five minute ride to the beach shack on Ditch Plains. I was a day early. Richie Boy, the owner, and his lovely wife were on vacation in Scotland. Their first since the birth of their now thirteen year- old twins. I was the baby sitter. I am not considered a bad influence and I relate well to the young. Ignoring them suits them fine.

"Huh" My greeting. I keep it simple.

Pick them up at school

"Huh."

Drop them off. Drive to Camp Hero. Montauk is 70% parkland. I stand on the bluff. Waves crash on the rocky beach over a hundred feet below. Barely audible over the wind. It is not winter, but neither is it spring. That nigt I turned the tent heater up to the max. I fell sleep around 9 and woke with the dawn. Something was not right. Not qith the dawn, but my stomach was usually swollen.

Isza, the young store manager, waited outside, energy drink by her side. The Montauk native is over three times younger than me. She smiles to see my face. Not so much happy to see me. More happy to open the store on time. She is a dutiful employee. I am her slothful antithesis, but have been declared sales manager. Neither title earn us more money.

After setting up the jewelry, I sat nd felt my abdoment.My belly was fine, but below the incision scar beneath my ribs rose a bulge. It hadn't been there yesterday. As a transplant recipient, I was acutely wary in any changes my physiology. I called the transplant and left a message. Five minures later the doctor on call said hello and asked questions. Pain, bleeding, fever, dizziness, vomiting et al? Negative to all. She suggested an ambulance to S'hampton. It was Saturday. I didn't feel like I was dying and I needed to wormk. I needed the money. My family in Thailand needed money. I stayed until Sunday evening and caught the 5.17 to Penn Station.

In bed by 11. Up at six. A brisk autumnal spring morning. Feeling none the worst, but none the better either. After completing a few chores by noon, I headed up to the Weill Cornell ER. Admission took an hour. Minutes became hours. The ER was packed with patients in greater need than me. Bloodwork and EKG. Wait for a Cat Scan. Several hours. A female doctor answered my question and said bowel obstruction maybe and left me, saying we will know more after the Cat Scan. A bowel obstruction according the AI was very serious. Fatality from the surgery 3-20% according to age. At 73 I was in the 20% risk valley. I hate succumbing to the fears after reading medical death porn. I couldn't stop reading. Hoapital stay of 3-7 Recovery time. Several weeks. If not more. A weakened body with possible infections. I had been here before. Death's door.

Four years ago.

I hadn't died. Close. Very close. Maybe I died then. But I came back as Lazarus II. I could come back again as Lazarus III. I said nothing to anyone. I called no one. I was solo. This was all me. Two hour later a Cat Scan. A long wait for the results in the ER. An old Italian man talking to his wife. Non stop for an hour. A different femle doctor. Good news. . Im going to the ER to check on abdominal swelling. I feel no pain. Best to play it safe This morning i spoke with the transplant team and they said go in right away. I went in, the ER did blood work and a CAT scan. A doctor came in and said it night ve something serious. I process that and told myself youve been here before. It was nothing. But i had to check I thought i might have to spend a couple of days. Nothing better than walking out of the ER with a clean bill of health. This morning i spoke with the transplant team and they said go in right away. I went in, the ER did blood work and a CAT scan. A doctor came in and said it night ve something serious. I process that and told myself youve been here before. It was nothing. But i had to check Regina updated me on your hospital stay. I'm sorry you're having trouble. It looks like we're both having issues right now. I had 3 L of fluid removed yesterday from my abdomen. We are talking with my doctor in an hour to figure out what options there are good luck, Peter. Nothing better than walking out of an ER as health So am i. 7 hours in thr hospital All clear. A doctor came in earlier and suggested something serious. All clear. I wish Pam was the same. Spent ten hours doing tests. No explanation for the swelling. Release me at midnight. At first they thought it was something very serious. The tests and scans showed is was okay. The transplant team tea has said to into the ER. I still feel beat up, but they gave me a go home tix. I wish they could do the same for you. Ive een in the hospital at least twice a week for tge last month. Im coming up for the Grays anniversary Maybe Jack too She is at cannes I'm so sorry, Peter. I hate seeing my brother having such a hard time. I love you very much.