The Red Sox lost to the Yankees 15-3 and they looked bad in defeat. Butch Hobson's elbow needs rest. Yaz's hand in swollen, the Bosox team should have sat for a rest after 3rd inning last night to rest up for the final weeks of the season, although the Red Sox have no chance of make the Playoffs, unless they sweep the six games of the seven-game series.
A dog, a white poodle puppy to be exact, in begging for food on East 10th Street. He has no collar and matted fur. Someone has abandoned him. I wish I could help, but I just finished my bagel and have no money. The Palestinian corner bodega gives nothing on credit. Not even for abandoned dogs.
It is getting colder. I am unprepared for the weather. I have a denim jacket and sweaters. Thankfully my landlord has heard about my painting Alice's house in West Virginia and asked me to painting his hallway and bedroom of their East 65th Street penthouse. I've yet to give him an answer, since I'm scared of fucking up> It's not like I'd ask anyone from CBGBs to help me other than Guadalcanal, who is on tour as a roadie for Johnny Thunders. I have to have more confidence in my myself. If I'm careful I should be able to accomplish the task.
I figure a week's work is worth $500, but hope that thereafter I get regular work.
CBGBs has been closed for tax reasons. Hilly hasn't paid any. I head cross town to Alice's job. She gets out at 1am.
"I'll come back for you later."
She and I are close, but could be closer if I had a steady income.
I ran into Grant Stitt on Christopher Street and spent two hours touring the queer bars.
"Don't they mind a straight man here?" I asked at the Eagle.
Mind straight men. They love straight men and whoever said you're straight. Nothing is happening here. Let's go someplace else." Grant led the way to the International Stud, which prides itself in the blacklessness of its back room for anonymous sex.
"I'm down for a gum job from a toothless man or else a hard cock in my ass."
"When I was a teenager I worked at a suburban hotel. The bearded pot washer was a French Canadian without any teeth. He said it was just like fucking pussy, but nothing smelled as bad as he did. The second cook loved him and swore it was just like a woman only better."
"Enough talk. back room."
I accompanied the New Zealander to the entrance of the back hole.
"C'mon in. No one you know will know." I obeyed his command and inside the windowless abyss shadows pulled down my jeans. Someone sucked my asshole, while another stranger blew me. It didn't feel right and I left Grant to a pigpile of sex adventurers. I ordered a beer and played pinball to avoid any conversation which might lead me back into the inferno of sex.
"Do I look any different?" asked Grant, wiping cum off his shirt and face. He handed me $5. " Got paid."
"How much?"
"Same as always. Did you do it?"
"And then some." He appeared more relaxed than before and leaned against the pinball machine like a hustler on the prowl. He touched my penis and I said, "I have to go meet Alice. She's expecting me," Grant shouted, as I exited from the Stay and added, "Go ahead. be straight. You know what happens to them in the end. They all go queer."
But not that night. I walked Alice home. We held each other for a few minutes. She fell asleep and I read Proust, lasting only a paragraph before deciding to that I was hungry and got dressed to go outside to the Chinese restaurant on 1st Avenue. On the way back from China Star I gave the poodle puppy a chicken breast. The rest I saved for Alice. She liked food cold.
I haven't seen Hakkim in a couple of days and hope the junkie ODed or moved to a warmer climate like Wall Street.
I haven't had a dog since Champoo and Whitey in Thailand.
In 2008 I took care of Pom Pom in Pam Beach.
Cats are New Yorkers.
They are stuck in apartments.
Their owners ignore them throughout the day and feed their pets dried food
I haven't had queer sex since 1977.
Forty-four years ago.
I don't know why I quit, but loving Alice was a big reason and I did love her.
"Not just for sex either."
Whenever I tell young people about the sexual adventurism, they are astounded by the lack of guilt and the appectance of lust in the 1970s as a virtue. of the 1970s, but are less pleased when I say that the main reason for the last two decades of sexual atrophy is that most people have never been taught the basics of lust and the Baptists crusade for abstinence has corrupted the freedom of their bodies.
Oh, sex, where have you gone?
Today everyone was talking about 9/11.
The day that changed America forever.
"This country will never be the same," said many of my countrymen, but the old normal had only been replaced by the new normal. The USA fought two wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, despite neither nation having participated in the attacks twenty years ago. I Commented to everyone that Osama Bin Ladin had been living in a cave in fear of American drone missiles and undercover assassins without a phone. His fatwahs were carried to the Tribal borders of Pakistan to be transmitted to his followers. Not one order to the hijackers.
Of course in 1979 America was listening MY SHARONA by The Knack and no one paid any attention to Afghanistan, whose Communist leader Nur Muhammad Taraki had traveled to a summit in Cuba and returned to Kabul, where he was deposed by Soviet favorite, Hafizullah Amin. Two years later Amin was murdered by the Russian KGD, who had crossed the Amu Darya, thus beginning the Endless War.
