MAY 27, 1978 THE VILLAGE JOURNAL ENTRY

An incredible quadruple Gemini birthday party at Kim and Kyle Davis' apartment on Bleecker Street. Sean Hausman, Eric Goode, and Kim had hung blue and white balloons overhead. They had plastered xeroxed fotos of the four natal celebrants on the wall and illuminated the living room with a modulating blue lights. Punk and funk music. Beer and bourbon. Tons of people.

A ballerina said, "I saw you on 42nd Street. You entered a peep show. Do you like porno? Would you like to see me naked?"

"Yes."

By the bathroom door Alice entertained lithe lesbian actresses about the poetry police. It was a funny spiel, but I had heard it a couple of times. Normally as she started to get drunk. The ballerina led me out of the apartment in a slow motion pas de deux into the stair well. Her name is Dove. She tells me to keep my distance. I nodded, although my hands wanted to rip off her dress. She smiled at my distress and peeled the dress off her shoulders, as if under George Balanchine's direction. It fell to her feet. Her body was emaciated by dance, revealing every sinew, muscle, and bone.

"My name is Dove. One day if we're lucky, we will fuck." Her hand drifted elegantly to her crotch and rubbed her labia, then licked her fingertips. She didn't offer them to me and I realized she was baiting me to take her against her will. It wasn't the first time a woman to misinterpret my innate propensity for violence as sexual.

"Like you said. Not tonight."

I returned to the party.

ANARCHY IN THE UK blasted on the stereo. Kyle chatted with Billy Flicker from Television. She is so in love with him and couldn't be happier with his attention solely hers.

Excessive enters and shouts, "Now the party begins."

I love him. He starts an argument with a bassist from the Testors. I step in.

"It's a party and if anyone is going to start a brawl, it's me. I'm one of the birthday people."

We spoke for a few minutes and somehow I diverted the two of us into a ballad of loneliness.

"Oh, wow. Not easy to be alone with this many people here for your birthday."

"Easier than you think."

I went over to Alice.

"Ignore me."

She drank a slug for 101 proof Bourbon, then silked away to hillbilly dance with Barbara, returning to the bathroom to extoll the virtues of hard drinking to those waiting for a piss. She was very funny. even the partygoers inside the toilet laughed at her humor.

Kim gets drunk with Marc Stevens, Mr 10 1/2 of porno fame. He whispers he wants to talk with me.

"Later." I glanced at his crotch and he smiled like to say it's all there.

Patrick shows up with a bottle of bourbon. I don't know how it became the drink of the party. He hands me a manifesto for the National Resurgence Party, which I promptly lose.

Ro shows up. I'm too drunk to form sentences. We score some speed, but Steve Forber steals half. Cyrena get her photo taken by Sean and his father. Roz shows as does William Lively and Andy Reese, then Clover. Alone, Blonde, Young. We spoke in the hallway, "I haven't been avoiding you. My Texan sponsor is in town. He leaves tomorrow."

Amos, Kim's love, is drunk and leans against the wall supported by wobbly knees.

Ann makes out with Excessive, who pukes and I have to sober him up in the kitchen with a bump of speed. Bruce and Lewis enter with gifts of a tie and hankercheif. Klaus comes with Claudia. Dark and mysterious in leather. I say nothing to her. Little John is drunk.

Kim's Greenwich friends become invisible. The bourbon has blurred everyone's vision and stripped away their inhibitions to the bone. It is the height of the Sexual Revolution and we are all rebels with a cause of flesh to flesh. Rhonda makes move on Alice. Anthony stands close as a voyeur, wishing he had been camera back from the repair shop. I speak to Sean about film and anarchy. Markey from the Ghosts has not stop dancing. Sweat flies off his body to UP BONDAGE UP YOURS. Rick Danger loses his leather jacket. Someone stole it. Marc invites me over to his apartment for some blow. He takes out his cock. Long and thick and not hard at all.

"Touch it, " he says, as if it was a pet snake.

His girlfriend, Jill Monro, enters the apartment.

We do some more lines and she hefts his limp cock.

"He does blow and he's useless in bed. Sweet, but useless."

I go back to the party. Eric is making out with a girl whose name I can't recall. It is not Alice.

"How big was it?" Klaus asks licking his lips.

"Go over and ask. I'm sure he'll show it to you."

He brings Andy Reese with him.

Clover and I kiss in the stairwell.

"One day you and me."

"What about now?" I know she wants me to have my way with her.

"One day."

Not tonight.

Alice hasn't spoke a word to me in hours. She's kissing one of the Greenwich girls.

The lights go out. A blown fuse. We light candles The beer runs out, so does the ice. We find R&B music on a transistor radio. We have plenty of bourbon. Creeps from CBGBs arrived at the door. I tell them to fuck off. William Lively cries when I refuse him. People puke over the railing in groups of two and three. Cyrena leaves with someone other than Sean. Alice is out cold on the couch. Kim and Amos are on the floor. There is no sign of Kyle or Billy. I bring back Alice to her sublet. I put her to bed and she slurs, "I wish you were David Bowie."

I did too and walk back to my SRO room on West 11th Street.

All and all it was a great party. .

May 2, 1978 - Excerpt From Journal

From Mar 6, 2020 reedited today

Am I a poet?
Some people think so
Not many
But most everyone else consider poets hopeless wastrels
Today, tomorrow, yesterday
Losers
Throughout time
Poets have suffered
Living off scorn, hatred, ridicule, apathy, love, and poverty___

Hart Crane wrote THE BRIDGE
A brilliant poem

How many dawns, chill from his rippling rest
The seagull’s wings shall dip and pivot him,
Shedding white rings of tumult, building high
Over the chained bay waters Liberty—

Sailors threw him off a ship In the middle of the Caribbean___

Edgar Allen Poe
A mystery death
Last words
"Lord, help my poor soul"__

Lord Byron struck down by fever
Fighting the Ottoman Empire
To Free Greece

"Friendship is Love without his wings!
Now hatred is by far the longest pleasure;
men love in haste but they detest at leisure.
The great art of life is sensation,
to feel that we exist, even in pain__

And Joyce Kilmer was slaughtered
Along with millions of his generation
In the trenches of France__

None of them sought death
Death just happened
Despite the magic of cadenced words and syllables
Languages molded far from the public__
Now few people recite poetry
And even fewer hear it spoken
I recite my poems to the walls
Of my small room
In a seedy SRO hotel
My drunken neighbor bangs on the wall
"Shut up already."
These three words cast their spell
I go silent___
The only poets making money are singers
I can't sing
So I work as a waiter
As the Rolling Stones sang
"It's the singer, not the song."__

LATER

I played softball with the crew from EST. My position was right field. No one hit in my direction. Ann took over pitching in the fourth frame. I hit a triple in the fifth and our side had a one run lead. She kept them off the bases. In the last inning a young actor from Kansas hit a ball sharply. Ann raised her glove too late. The ball struck her face.

She spun around, as if she had been shot, holding her head. I ran from right field. Her theater friends clustered around Ann. They stood shocked by her pain. I kneeled and held her right hand. Her left hand covered that side of her face, which was red from the impact.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," stammered the young actor."

"It's not your fault," answered Ann and the studio director, Kurt Dempster, asked, "Do you want to go to a hospital. Maybe your nose is broken."

That was the last thing any actress wants to hear and I said, "It looks fine to me, Ann. Breathe deeply."

After a minute Ann stood up. "I'm okay."

She sat out the final outs and I sat by her side.

After the game we went downtown to my place. My drunk neighbor was playing on his sax. I asked Ann if it bothered her.

"No, I like Coltrane. Will I have a black eye?"

"No, but if you do, it will be cute."

LATER

Why am I content with poverty?

I haven't had a ten-spot in my pocket for days. My Irish grandfather and namesake would leave the house with less than $500 and that was in the 40s. I wish I was the same, instead I'm a pseudo-intellectual beggar.

After our fight about Anthony accusing me of stealing money, she said to him, "Peter wouldn't steal. If he wanted money, he'd get it from me."

I do love her.

In the meanwhile I'm waiting for my tax return check. I'm getting thinner and thinner. Marc Stevens asked if I wanted to deal cocaine. I said no. I tried dealing in Boston and only ended up deeper in debt. Right now I owe everyone money. I see no solution other than work. I tried to get a taxi job. I needed $75 to get the licenses. Nothing is free.

Ann is in love me with, but fears dependency on me. She'll probably leave for her own good. I wish I could do the same. Sadly I'm stuck with me.

Summer is getting closer.

Last year in Brooklyn was a disaster.

This summer is looking to be a repeat.

Damn. Damn. Damn.

That's the best poem I've written this year.

May 12, 1978 - East Village - Journal

Last night I drank a lot of bourbon waiting for Ro to show and accompany me to my friend's art opening. Thankfully Mike Selbach was there with his wife. Cheryl kept ribbing me, as if she wanted to see my cruel side. Mike had enough of this at hime and went o get beers at the bar. The lanky blonde leaned over and said, "I bet that you can't say anything they will hurt me."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." She smiled, hiding her crooked bottom teeth, but everyone has a flaw, even Cheryl so confident of her beauty. Model thin, emerald green eyes. The teeth were her only flaw, but I said, "You're as flat as an altar boy."

She laughed once. I had hit the nail on the head. I could have gone on. It was obvious she was a masochist. Silent, she smirked and said, "You're all talk."

She joined Mike at the bar.

I know Michael a couple of years. He had worked with Ro at David's Potbelly on Christopher Street. A late-night gay eaterie. Mike had been the cook. I sat in the alley eating omelettes. He was a good man and I like his dog, a mutt called Merlin. Mike saw me and tapped his watch. I shrugged. Ro was late. So were we. At David Mills on Bleecker Street I decided I like Mike's sculpture. I couldn't see anyone else in them. Cheryl brushed against me as a tease. I left without saying goodbye.

When I returned to CBGBs, the Sic Fucks were on stage, playing 'Take Me To The Bridge. Russell Wollinsky singing with Snooky and Tish as slutty back-ups. I can't understand a single word outside the chorus, but I love them. 100% punk, unlike the uncool Talking Heads.

Gerard Pas was playing Pinball with Roxy. She hasn't been here for months. I heard she was a groupie for some stadium band. She looked healthy and not on drugs. She asked for astrological love advice with a Scorpio. I had no idea how to help her and said, "Do what you think is best."

Home Alone no man

Later

Yesterday I went up to the Upper East Side what a shithole. Rich clean, luxury. I never want to go up there again and I told Anthony Scibelli how Tim Dunleavy accused me a stealing from him.

"I haven't been in your apartment, since the blackout."

"It was probably Andy Reese. He has a drug problem. So does Frank."

The two ex-ballet dancers tricked out of Cowboys on East 53rd. I liked them. They had introduced me to Alice., but this information meant keeping my distance. Leaving I stopped into Serendipity 3. Big Bird, William Lively, and all the other boys cooed hellos. Mr. Bruce the owner, said, "You are so rough trade."

A flaming queen. I so love him. He protects the boys. Jancy Stephenson wasn't in the upstairs store. I left at her birthday party with Alice adn her lesbo girlfriend. That must have hurt.

I was a bad man

I ran into Andy Reese outside the Subway Inn. He didn't look like a coke fiend. Glancing across the street he said, "You are always talking about destroying the Upper East Side. Sure, great idea. Two months later there'll be a Bloomingdale's in Union Square. Bigger and taller and blocking out the Ed Watchtower and then it would be the Chic Lower East Side. I'll keep the Slime up here. We'll keep the village for ourselves."

I went to a disco party at Les Mouches. Marc Stevens was wearing only a jock strap. He wanted coke. "Two truckloads to get me hard."

Mr 10 and a half was never hard. Too much coke.

Kim wanted to get him some coke. She want to see his cock hard. Everyone does. It's his best talent, otherwise it's kind of dumb, But he's famous and with good reason I would hate to see what would happen to him it wasn't big

Who else can I slam?

Ro finally showed at CBGBs. She had been at work. I escorted her to the party but I didn't stay as they had been fairly lame and they were too many lesbians who clocked me for not being queer. Lesbians have the worst time of it, because straight men keep on saying oh I want to watch two chicks and I want to be with two chicks or I'm a lesbian too. I don't want to say I want to see two guys fucking my ass, because they really don't like macho.

Later

Alice's grandmother died last night. Off for West Virginia for the funeral. My Nana dead since 1968. My grandmother Edith 1972. I never met any either of my grandfathers, except as photos. Both dead in their their late fifties or sixties. I hope my father lives forever. My great-aunt Bert lived to be 103 and sailed around the world with her father hunting whales off Madagascar in the Indian Ocean. I can deal with the idea of dying

Although most male egos can't deal with a threat of death, of not having achieved anything. They want to die in a blaze of glory or in a car crash. Live fast die fast, I want to piss off everybody by never dying. I'll settle into the old age, although it might be hard to take the loss of memory, I'll always have my soul

Later

Alice is leaving for Charleston with a heavy heart. "I've cried all morning and I'm crying now. It could have been worse, but I've been working so hard."

She has been crying in her sleep, when she doesn't have nightmares.

Gerard Pas invited me to a party and he explained that his leg was fucked up because of polio. It doesn't bother me, but I knew a girl in Boston. Peggy had a withered leg. Polio as a child. She went to an all-girls high school. One afternoon I saw her crying on Dot Avenue. I asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nobody will take me to the prom."

"I will why didn't you invite me."

"I didn't think you'd accept but take me.

"Hell yeah. Let's go." She was so happy and we had a good time. Peggy was a good dancer.

. Death death death rips through relatives and friends. I never go to the doctor. The only time I've been to the hospital was birth. I feel like I can live forever, but I'm delusional. Fine one second. The next a piano drops on your head. Flash life gone. Flash lying on the sidewalk. Flash blood breaking through a pavement to drowned the land

. Mort death tote. Our final destination We are not Jesus We are not Lazarus We do not rise from the dead And the dead Do not dream But before dead We can go to Spain Mexico Hawaii Cuba France England Asia When we live we live When we die we still live But not in this now And death chooses everyone The Good the Bad and the in-between. Okay

Drunken Bully - C'est Moi

Almost ten years ago my faux-sister Pip was defending 1970s porn star Marc Stevens on Facebook. I caught the thread in mid-stream and joined the fray. Marc and I had and I had almost been lovers.

Here's the exchange; PIP - Marc Stevens was a next-door neighbor and pal...here he is on David Susskind...We partied all the time...but our scenes were different...viva la difference, he was oddly fatherly to me...and if though I knew he was a porn 'star', I never saw his movies...but he did give offer me advice about boys..which I was happy to hear. Sad to see him had such a tragic end...like so many of that time...famously photographed by Mapplethorpe. ah me!

WOMAN FROM BERLIN I wondered why he was coming to Club 57 - it was you who told him. Wednesday at 3:07pm.

PIP - yup...hung with Peter Nolan Smith, my sister Kyle Davis Cadley and a whole motley crew....ah woe!

ME - Marc was good fun.

WOMAN FROM BERLIN - He was very polite and nice as I recall.

PIP - A good fb friend, gay english teacher is Fla., was bemoaning a Porno star making a PSA...it rankled and brought Marc to mind! What a great role model he was for gay kids! Did we live in a particular place in time that enabled us to be open and happily accepting of each other? The more I know about what people 'out there' think, the less I feel I belong.

ME - it was a special time. we accepted each other for what we were and our opinion evolved from relationships after overcoming prejudice. The era of errors.

WOMAN FROM BERLIN One is brought up to be accepting and loving of others or not. I think it's that simple.

ME - Most people are raised with the bias of their community. It is up to the individual to change the thinking of the majority through our thought deeds and words.

PIP - So we made our own community...and now we're in a right wing hell hole.

WOMAN FROM BERLIN So what's new? We were always in one. Remember Anita Bryant? The Moral Majority? America, Love it or Leave it? Yuppies? Nancy Reagan's red cloth coats? Ring any bells?

PIP - Vaguely...Anita was mean to Harvey Milk...orange juice...we in the thick of it could dismiss the wacko's..harder now, somehow, perhaps my view is too narrow and shaped by our unique perspective...I get pissing mad when I think of people in closets and suicidal teens...Surely we have gotten somewhere!!!!Do You remember that party you had in Chinatown...someone fell off the roof ( is okay, I believe) and I made out with a beautiful girl all night!!!! Cyrena. Ah YES, I'm an old goat now lol

WOMAN FROM BERLIN - Steven Kramer who was married to Patti Astor at the time pulled that tap dancing trick on the ledge, which is something he often did, but alas fell off that time. Brilliant artist of many talents. You kissing Cyndria Fox maybe? I know that night Robert Gordon propositioned me with my pal and his girlfriend Snooky nearby. What a creep. That was the opening party for NWV. Andy Horn was there, he says, but I haven't the slightest recollection of having met him then. PIP - My only GF Cyrena...wow...flashback.

WOMAN FROM BERLIN - Everyone had them in Boarding School, but unfortunately I was expelled before I got one and the irony was that I was accused of sneaking out to meet boys - at the tender age of 11? and kicked out. I actually think the "Ban The Bible" pin that I wore on my uniform and my disregard for the rules made them have it in for me. You had a girlfriend?

PIP - She was everyone's girlfriend! LOL..not girlfriend...What do the kids call it??? Friend and hook-up?

PIP - Ban the bible...good one LOL Marc Stevens www.ovguide.com Watch Marc Stevens Videos. Free Streaming Marc Stevens Video Clips. I Added this after a long day research Trappist Beer in Belgium. Always trying to make a story about me.

ME - I remember Steven dancing on the edge. Anthony Scibelli and I pulled him down and two minutes later he was back up there. We went to grab him and he fell the wrong way. Crunch. We looked down at him. He was lying facedown in a pool of blood.

ME - David McDermott and I leaped to the billboard on the other roof and climbed down to him. Patti was screaming at the top of her lungs. David was a little horrified by the sight of so much blood, but was brave enough to say, "If we don't move him, he's going to drown in his own blood., but I asked Steven if he could move his feet.

ME - "You're right. Can you move your feet. He moaned 'yes' and I turned him on his back. Someone yelled from your roof. "What do you need?" -

"I yelled back a beer."

WOMAN FROM BERLIN - Another stunt that he used to pull at Kristian's loft would be he would be hanging on the ledge outside of the window and when you noticed him he would wave at you while holding onto the ledge with the other arm. It would scare the you know what out of you.

ME - I ran into him months after his fall. He asked if I knew him. I said no, thinking he might be embarrassed. finally I succumbed to his insistence and said, "I was the guy who turned you over on that roof.' He walked away without another word.

SQUARE GAY - I stand by my post of yesterday. We are supposed to be reminding gay youth that they can be gay and healthy and happy throughout their lives. I don't think we need more reminders that the gay world is hyper-sexualized and that many, wrong...

WOMAN FROM BERLIN - You know, I think I remember you shouting for that beer. I was so sensitive years ago

ME - I must say that many teens of whatever sexuality are self-loathing. I was wheeling in my bed at this moment.

ME - Noel, the Aids epidemic was manufactured. Me - straights shared the same lifestyles. We had a good time. Don't demonize the past. L 7

WOMAN FROM BERLIN - Oops, this is my stop, gotta get off. Bye Y'all.

PIP- Noel is dismissing us as drug addled losers from the 70's!????

CARO!!! Ha ha. not quite.

ME - Noel, this world is too filled with squares telling us we were wrong. You want to shout that out. Sing to a different choir. We are altos and falsettos in this crew. Buzzkill someone else

PIP - Noel, could I be wrong in thinking that this is a case of the oppressed becoming the oppressor? It seems you want a place at the dinner table of Middle America! You'll never feel better until you (collectively) accept yourself...oh dear.

ME - believe me, i can still throw the buzzkills off the bus. Noel, stop looking in the mirror and admire the shadows

WOMAN FROM BERLIN - Lucia, not all are enlightened or have drank from the same fountain. Au 'Reservoir'.

ME - Marc 10 1/2 Stevens. he had some crank on him, drool factor 12

PIP - I never sorted all my pals out...gay..straight..we were individuals baby...As Ann Magnuson said in "The Nomi Story" which I saw for the first time...we were all outcasts who came to NYC to find a place to feel free and express ourselves...the miracle is we found each other. Peter...I saw the Mapplethorpe 'penis' today ! Hello!

ME - the uncut version. what a schlong. Off to sleep after drinking Trappist beer on the Belgium border Aulne 8, was anyone really straight

PIP - not then...well...some 'girls' LOL, well, my brain is a fried kitten from all the drugs and sex I've had.

WOMAN FROM BERLIN - Poor Noel, shame on us, or you, for allowing a drunken bully like Peter to run wild (again). Non-Quitter or Non Sequitur? Hard to say and honestly if we were all drooling over penis sizes the human race wouldn't have an over- population problem.

SQUARE GAY - Squares? really? Are you twelve? Look who's doing the judging now. and I am obviously waaaaay to L7 to get the mirror/shadow metaphor. and, Kimmy, I am opressing no one. Drag queens and leather daddy's have long had too high a profile in the gay community. I can be out and proud--even to my teenage students--without becoming a parody of myself. i think that's what a gay student of mine was referring to recently when he told me that i was the reason he stopped seeing it as a curse. to each his own, but I'm not going to support yet another gay cause that thinks its de rigeur to bring out the porn stars or present caged masters and slaves at their galas or whatever else just because it's part of the "wonderful patchwork of who we are."

PIP - recently 'out', not too proud, a gym rat is just another way to say gay...I don't think I mentioned 'leather queens' once...but my cousin would describe himself as such, as well as a member of Boston's symphony...stereotypes indeed Noel. Drunken bully.

WOMAN FROM BERLIN knows him from way back when.

THe WOMAN FROM BERLIN knew knew me. She is more wrong than right, but then a woman is never wrong, but she and Pip defended Marc Stevens. He was a good guy and a lot of fun!

ps He wasn't into squares either and I wouldn't have trust the woman from Berlin with a bag of mud.

Then and now and I wouldn't have beem intimate with her even on 'Ludes.

photo of marc stevens from robert mapplethrope. Redacted by the uncool censors of Facebook

Banned From Facebook

A Paris friend reported a Facebook ban for posting an invitation for the fabulous Palace Disco featuring a naked woman. It was neither pornographic nor obscene, except to the Taliban and America's religious right. I protested their decision by posting a shot of porno star Marc Stevens dancing at Studio 54.

Naked.

Within minutes I was informed by Facebook of a violation against their code of ethics.

A three-day ban.

A second violation earns the violator a seven-day ban

I was not upset by their decision.

What else can you expect from square-state Bible Belters?

There is nothing wrong with nudity.

Not with Chuling

A Marc Stevens Snowstorm

Yesterday meteorologists predicted the season's first snowstorm heading toward New York.

Their forecast warned of a 6-10 inch accumulation or what I called a Marc '10 and 1/2 Inches' Stevens Blizzard.

A real blizzard hit New York in 1978 and I partied with Marc and his tranny girlfriend Jill Monroe throughout the three days the city was shut down like a Siberian Gulag. No one was gong anywhere.

We did drugs and more.

I vowed to both of them to never to say what, but in truth nothing happened.

We were high on blow.

Marc's vaunted penis was a green bean and mine was a cashew.

And Jill had been trimmed by doctors in Holland. She wanted our worse.

Neither Mark or I could do a thing.

When the icy tempest subsided, I left their Bleecker Street apartment.

"Remember, not a word." Marc kissed my cheek.

He had a reputation to protect.

Back in my boarding house on East 11th Street I pulled the covers up to my chin.

Safe but not really sound