Journal Entry - June 14, 1977 (Berkeley Street)

DREAMS

I walk through the darkness and the sound of bells peal from the Brooklyn churches call for everyone to leave Earth, except for me and 125 women. Why they left and we stayed is beyond me.

President Jimmy Carter and I pull up to a yacht club. He went directly to the Sequoia and I drank with friends. Cher came into the bar and couldn't find a seat.

I gave her mine.

LATER

Clinton Avenue

Matthew and I had a good time at Coney Island. He badly wanted a roller coaster ride, except the Cyclone was under repair. The ocean was hurting with tar and shit in the surf. The beach was covered wth trash, broken glass from decades of human abuse. Matthew and I rode the bumping car, which were great fun, until he lost a contact lens.

I'm heading to Hunter College for my bi-weekly acting class. Tonight should be strange.

Rare are the summer days of clear light The sun can not burn off the haze. Rarer still are the days of easy breathing But I knew that when I moved here From Boston in a stolen car At night driven by the need to leave a racist city Gambling all on the love of a southern woman. Ro left for Paris the day I arrived The stolen car gone with the dawn too.

LATER

I spoke with Libby on the phone. She has my silver brush. I won't have to stop in Westport on the way to Boston.

Class tonight with Billy reenacting a drunken bout and I released into a combative character, but improv is a game allowing people to walk inside you.

Chuck is enthused about my script D. DESCENDING. His reading from it makes me understand how far I have to go with writing. He and Carla play roles in various scenes. She goes home with me, but yturns around to watch Chuck. Man and Wife once. Still in love. She's just killing time with me.

David Bowie Versus Sha Na Na 1972

My friend Keith and I share mutual musical tastes and this week he posted a Youtube video of David Bowie singing with Cher. Keith had actually seen the Ziggy Stardust tour. I missed it for a stupid reason.

My girlfriend at the time was 26.

Linda was a junior exec in my father's office. I worked there as a summertime clerk. Linda walked through the aisle like a high fashio model with her hips thrust forward. I lost my virginity to her at an Emerson Lake and Palmer concert on the Charles River.

A sleek divorcee had long legs and wore French lingerie.

For my birthday she offered to take me to the Ziggy Stardust tour. I picked Sha-na-na instead. Linda left me at the end of the summer, saying the only reason she had slept with me was because my father would not and that Bowser of Sha-Na-Na was more my type than the Thin White Duke.

She knew me oh too well. Upon hearing that story Keith shook his head. He knew me well too.

Happy birthday David Bowie.

Bowie and Cher 1975

David Bowie's career saw ups and downs. The worst period was in the early 70s. The English glam rocker succumbed to heroin. His best friend was Iggy. Money went faster than it came and his financial commitments required his appearing on the CHER SHOW in 1975. Their duet covered YOUNG AMERICANS and several pop classics. Their timeless collaboration went through than the Hollywood studio.

Lovers.

Cher and Bowie.

Fame has its price and the morning after a long session of sex the bedroom door opened for Bowie's wife. Angie served Cher and David breakfast and left the room. Cher was freaked by the intrusion.

David was merely high.

Here's the Youtube URL of that momentous show.

Great trash

N'est pas?

And what's with Cher's thatched roof?

RAINY SEASON by Peter Nolan Smith

Last week New York was scorched by a heat wave. The temperature ranged from 95 in the shade to 110 on the tar. I hid out in the 169 Bar, but decided to leave the comfort of my favorite to take the ferry to Rockaway Beach.

I called Geoffrey.

He was always up for the beach.

I said I would meet him at the Kerry Hills.

No millenials went there.

They were only zombie victims.

The ferry was fast.

We passed under the Verranzano Bridge.

Entering the Broad Channel the air grew cool.

Only a barrier island separated us from the Atlantic.

Even the millenials were happy to be out of the city.

I met Geoffery at 116th Street. THe Kerry Hills had been closed by the City. We bought a pint of Georgi Vodka and two bottles of Lemonade. It was a good mix and the two of us proceeded to the beach.

The wind was strangely strong, but died after the dunes.

Neither of us wanted to be around people and proceeded to the right.

The beach wasn't very crowded and we set up two lifeguards down from 116th Street.

"I've made loved with my boyfriend in all the lifeguard chairs. From here to Riis Park."

I was jealous. I hadn't seen my Thai wife in over a year, but I was also at the beach. My people were from the ocean.

Geoffrey and I swan for an hour. The waves were tall and the water was clean.

"I love this," said Geoffrey. He was young.

"I love it too."

I was much older.

At six the lifeguards blew their whistles.

No one left the water.

The day was too delicious to obey the law.

The park guard wanted everyone out of the water.

He was so uncool, except not many people nowadays know how to swimming and the undertow was treacherous.

We waited for everyone to leave and went back in the water.

The Atlantic belonged to us.

"Look behind you." The rising wind whipped across the water.

With good reason.

A storm was coming and coming fast.

The seagulls fled the sky.

"It's the apocalypse," shrieked Geoffrey. His ultimate goal was to send remaining millenials into a panic.

Competing against vapid narcissism was a waste of time.

We caught the A train to Brooklyn.

The rain pounded the tracks.

The rain hasn't stopped yet.

I fell asleep wishing I was with Cher.

She was no millennial.

Not even in the beginning of the rainy season and the temperature was only 65.

With winter not far away.