May 26, 1978 - East Village - Journal

Tonight is the Four Gemini Party at Kim and Kyle Davis' apartment on Bleecker Street. We have sisued 'invitation only' passes to our many friends and flings. Kim is concerned about fight or fights. I'm not too worried, since I know how to stop a fight.

"You know how to start fight too." Her younger sister had seen me battled in CBGBs more than once.

"I promise to be good." I meant it too.

I handed in my guest list.

Bruce, Lewis, who couldn't get into CBGBs last night, Jaci from Dojo, Tommie DeMeastri from MCBElls, Anthony Scibelli, Cookie Mueller, Klaus, Willem and his girlfriend Liz, Roz from the Socialist Review, Michael Stumm, Fred and George from the SRO. I invied more males than women, but who cares? It should be fun.

Later

I was ssaved from eviction from the SRO by Mark Amitin. He had received my last unemployment check from the Boston School Committee, plus xeroxs of the missing checks. James had lied. Who is there to trust in this city? Mark said, "Looks like you don't owe him any money for rent."

"I paid rent." At least I thought I had. "He ripped me off for $250."

"He asked about the typewriter. I guess that make you a little even. It's yours now."

"Yeah, it's a dead issue. How is James?" The old jazz impressario had given me a room on Berkelel Place on Park Slope, when I had nowhere to go, but back Boston. James had introduced me to the loft jazz scene adn Cecil Taylor and Bobo Shaw and Ornette Colemen.

"Not good. He's looking really old. The curse of the Irish."

James and I met at the Riviera Cafe. We liked drinking together. Before I left, he came home bloody and I thought some rough trade had beaten him, but Michel, the bartender at the Gaslight Pub on Seventh Avenue had told me that James had exited the bar several times tofall on his face.

For some reason the life has been sucked out of James.

"He's going to drinking himself into the grave, unless he leaves the USA."

There was no chance of that. I tried to figure out how old James was. He had fucked James Dean, the big movie star. James had been very handsome even when I met him last year. The drink was destroying him. THe fate of all hard drinkers.

My first drink was Vermouth after school. With Paul Keenan, who had stolen the small bottle from his fatehr's liquor cabinet. He said cracking the seal, "It was in the back and covered with dust. He'll never miss."

We were in 6th Grade. THere were three of them. We liked the way we felt. Afterwards he brought them into school and we lifted out desk to sip during classes. Sister Mary Osmond saw nothing. It was just a small buzz. I drank Miller beer behind St. Elizabeth's church with my friends. I puked and haven't drunk Miller since.