Nothing happening today. No invitations to BBQs, but it's still early and we are still recovering from our cocaine night with Guadacanal. Yesterday afternoon I went over to his apartment and knocked on his door. His frail from DC answered the door in underwear. Only the bottom. She said nothing and returned to the bedroom. My friend was at the table packing palstic bags with grams. He was wearing a mask and motioned for me to sit.
" Thanks for the other night. I woke up in the emergency room withou any idea how I got there. Still don't, but I figured you got me there."
"I three you over my shoulder and carried you to 1st Avenue to get us a taxi, then brought you to Beelevue. I left after seeing you were in good hands,"
"Was I close?"
"You were beyond dead, but you got back in one piece."
"A miracle thanks to you."
"How you feeling?"
"Hard to tell. You want a line?"
I shook my head. He cuffed me a gram. I tookit to sell later. I needed the money more then the blow. Walking home I stop at Gem Spa to buy the Times and order a chocolate egg cream. The Red Sox Lost to the Yankees 15-3. I had watched the first innings at Grassroots. My home team looked dreadful. Yaz is hurt. They all look banged up and the Yanks keep winning. A runaway poodle begs food. I hace none. Only the egg cream and cocaine, I give it neither. I t 's cooler than Sunday with gray skies promising rain and an early autumn. It's been a hot August in the East Village. I only have a levi jacket. Three sweaters. Same as last winter and sneakers for footgear. Rent is over due. I called my landlord, Jerome Golding, to say we'd have the $183 this week. I'm sure I can get $100 for the gram, covering my half, plus my landlord wants me to paint his Upper East Side penthouse's bedroom and boudoir. I said yes, but worry about screwing up. I'll have to put down a lot of drop clothes. I don't need any mistakes. Another probelm is that I should be lookign for real work. A day job. Steady income. Winter isn't far away.
Back at the apartment, I told Alice that Guadacanal had survived his near death experience.
"He wouldn't have survived, if you hadn't taken half that line. I'm off that shit." She lied on the futon in the bedroom. The fan did little to clear the air.
"Me too." I hoped it wasn't a lie. <>
I went to living room and turned on the TV. Nothing on. No old movies or sporting events. Eight channels of nothing. Not even wrestling or the Three Stooges on The UHF channels. I get up and shut it off. I have no money. $10. More once I sell the blow. It keeps calling my name. I don't answer its call. the
That evening I went to CBGBs only to find it closed for tax reasons. Hillary hadn't paid his debt to society. I sold the gram to Anthony Scibelli, who was in Phebe's with Frank Holiday. I hadn't ecen touched the stuff. The two huffed lines at the bar. I left them befoer I joined them.
I walked across the Village to Alice's restaurant. She wasn't getting off until 1.
"I'll see you later, hon."
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