Showing posts with label punks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label punks. Show all posts

Saturday, February 28, 2026

NAKED TO THE COLD SEA by Peter Nolan Smith

In the early 70s
We stood on Nauset's nude beach
Hilde and me
The two of us
Hippies not yet punks.
A thick ledge of wet seaweed
Covered the high tide mark.
Off with our clothes
We lay on the cool green algae
Our bare bodies sinking beneath the sludge
Comforted by the endless ocean
The two us silent
Seagulls squatted at the high tide mark
Never within arm's reach
We stand as one
We make love
Hippie love
Young love
After we rise
Like seals from the seal
Naked to the elements
Wiping the seaweed
Off each other
Free
We both laugh
Skin blue-green as the cold Atlantic
Eyes meet
Understand
We all come from the sea
The two of us run into the ocean
Water
Embraced by Neptune
Cold as ice
Clean as ice
Forever young for now
Hippies not yet punks
1972

Naked On Nauset Beach - 1972 - HIlde Me and the Atlantic

In the early 70s
Below the ridege of dune
Hilde and me
Stood on Nauset's nude beach
The two of us
Me 20 lean and young
She eighteen blonde skin more burnt than tanned
Hippies not yet punks__
A thick ledge of wet seaweed
Covered the high tide mark.
Off with our clothes
We lay on the cool green algae
Our bare bodies sinking beneath the sludge
Comforted by the endless ocean
The two us silent
Seagulls squatted at the high tide mark
Never within arm's reach
We lay down to be one
To make love
Hippie love
Young love___
After we rise
Like seals from the seal
Naked to the elements
Wiping the seaweed
Off each other
Free
We both laugh
Skin blue-green as the cold Atlantic__
Eyes meet
Understand
We all come from the sea__
The two of us run into the ocean
Water
To be embraced by Neptune
The waves
Cold as ice
Cold as the once immortal Glacier
Rising over the continental shelf
Over a mile high
Gone today
Gone for thousands of years
Melted into the Ocean
Its green expanse
Clean as melted ice__
Hilde and me
Forever young for now
Hippies not yet punks
1972

Wednesday, December 31, 2025

JOURNAL EXCERPT - JANUARY 1, 1979 - EAST VILLAGE

We saw in New Year's Eve at Hurrah and then took a taxi downtown. Traffic congested before Madison Square Garden. A skinny blonde man with orange-blonde hair stood bare-chested the the traffic. Cheetah Cheetah Chrome of the Dead Boys and we shouted the lead guitarist's name in passing.

Alice, Anthony, Alexa, and I got out of the cab on the 3rd Avenue. The driver didn't want to go any farther into the Lower East Side. Alice and I stood on the sidewalk. Chest-high Suburban disco drones muttered about our punk attire. I stepped fowards and asked, "What are you looking at creeps."

"Why do you have to always be so violent?" Alice came me from a city where the tarred roads led to dirt tracks into the Hollows. She know all about violence.

"I wish I knew."

Ship's fog horns from the southern harbor searched the night. I was familiar with the docks. Only a few ships moored on the Westside and none on the swift-moving East River.

A gang of teenage Puerto Ricans whooped drunken shouts. They weren't looking for trouble. They were poor, the neighborhood school were bad, and their only futures were as janitors, city workers, and manual labor other than dealing drugs. All of them dreamed not so much as escaping the East Village as making the neighborhood a better place for 'la familia'.

We wandered over to Eve's Lounge. We ordered drinks. They were weak. I was still straight and hoped to be sober the first morning of 1979.

"I want to go." I said to Alice.

"Then let's go."

Yesterday I had met Alice at La Guardia. She wore a white pleather coat, black striped skirt, a purple sweater and knee-high white boot. She was the prettiest girl in the air terminal and every man and woman watched her walk to me. I was a lucky man and tried to kiss her. She turned her face to offer her cheek.

We hadn't slept together in more than a month. New Wave Vaudeville at her soul and Susan the scrawny closet lesbian co-producer was a shrew poisoning my love.

"He's a loser," she said to my face.

I felt like a loser too. same way, but needed even this small money, plus anything I could glom from Hurrah.

"Me too," Alice replied, confessing to trouble sleeping at home in Charleston. "How was your holidays?"

"Good." One visit to family in Boston and a few drunken fetes at the East Village bar. She suspected me of fooling around, except once I've had two drinks I'm only interested in the third, fourth and fifth.

All I could see was a dark black future, but I restrained from revealing that vision to Alice that

She has the whole world in front of her.

MAN OF THE YEAR

My teachers at Xaverian Brothers High School told their students, "Never vote for yourself."

I'm only one vote, so I am can be Man of the Year in my own mind.

Carter's out for his adherent to Rockefeller's Capitalism and not admonishing Taiwan about their treatment of the people of that Island Nation. Anita Bryant's anti-gay stance ended her Sunkist Orange Juice reign as spokeswitch, despite her backing from the Silent Majority and the Shah of Iran is endangered of being ousted by the Persian populace, because of SAVAK, his torture squad, and their destruction of moderate dissidents. Reza Mohammad Pahlavi's murderous attempts to modernize his country had been met with outcries from liberals and western TV journalists, but dragging peasants into the future has failed for hundreds of rulers. The people like their lives and are threatened by any change, especially when you include religion and the mullahs despise him for supposedly distribute their ancient holdings to the farmers, although the lands go to the friends of the Shah in payment for their support.

Long live the Shah.

I bet the house on his not seeing out the 70s.

Times appointed Deng Xiaoping, the Chinese Mainland Premier as Man of the Year.

All hail the Revolution and the end to the Gang of Four.

DISASTER OF THE YEAR

Floods and earthquakes devastated the earth over the twelve months of 1978.

The Jonestown Massacre In Guyana set the massive suicide pact in the jungle from every other catastrophe and hopefully the bloated bodies will not be seen in the future.

CHOKE OF THE YEAR

The AL MVP Jim Rice and the Red Sox' team Captain Yaz popped out for outs in the ninth inning with two men on base to lose to the dreaded Yankees in Fenway in the 163rd game of 1978 and the Yanks won the World Series.

JANUARY 1, 2021 - BROOKLYN

I went nowhere last night. I drank nothing. I did no lines of cocaine. I called my families in Thailand. They had enjoyed their evening eating their favorite foods. I can't even remember what I ate.

2021 was a nothing year.

But I'm lucky to be alive and that's not a small thing.

Friday, October 31, 2025

November 1, 1978 - Journal Entry - East Village

Halloween in New York.

That day I worked for Mark Amitin, the producer of ALBEE DIRECTS ALBEE, from 10am to 8pm, having to listen to a complete megalomaniac and fight off his advances. All Mark wants is to fuck me.

By the time I got back to 256 East 10th Street it was 9pm.

Alice had left a note on the table saying she was going to a party at Kim Davis' apartment on Bleecker Street. I didn't bother to bathe or even get dressed in a costume. Everyone at the party was in drag. I grabbed a beer and sat on the couch. Alice was Little Bo-peep. She was having a great time as was everyone else. I kept my distance.

"Why you so down?" asked Kim holding a bottle of vodka.

"I hate work."

"Who doesn't hate work? You want to dress up as me?"

"Not a bad idea, but I'm cool being no one."

"No one is better at being no one than you."

She handed me the vodka. A no one knew his role. I drank more than I should and never broke a smile, happy to not be in drag.

Au naturalment no one to the nines.

Friday, November 1, 2024

November 2 1978 - Journal Entry - East Village

At Club 57 on St. Mark's Lang and I heckled the performers. Several people in the audience took offense. Miss Nancy, the emcee, shrilled, "Get the fuck out of here."

The crowd laughed and I responded saying, "Join the real world or at least the 1930s."

We didn't leave, but when David Dirtbomb, a comic, appeared on stage. He was stunned to see us stunned by out spotlighted as the offendersHe knew us as ruffian protecting gays, queers, and dykes on the scene. The next act came onto the stage to rescue us from embarrassment. Over thirty people were pissed at us, including my girl friend, Alice, who had earlier extolled the turmoil of the boisterous claque in 19th Century French theater.

Adele Bertel from the Contortions confronted me and I grabbed the mike to recite a country western poem.

Lucky's Ten Strike
Woke up this morning
Broke and deserted
Mona left me long ago
She probably should have left
Longer ago___
Mona was there
The night
I rolled 300
Ten straight strikes
At Star Lanes Bowling Center
In Butte, Montana___
I should have never celebrated
By leaving with the cocktail waitress
Leaving Mona to take a taxi
Home___
Woke up this morning
Broke and deserted
Same as always
And even my belly belly
Is broke too.
This silenced the crowd. Adele said it was great. Alice glared I left her silence for another bar. Alice was not pleased. Fuck them all.

Wednesday, August 4, 2021

AUGUST 4, 1978 JOURNAL ENTRY - EAST VILLAGE

The Red Sox break out of their slump, taking two games from the Yankees. Jim Rice looks slow, but they are playing in 95F weather. The weather is no better in the East Village. The August air is exhausted by summer. I've only been to the beach once in comparison to my beach bum days of 1975 in Miami Beach and on the West Coast; Encinitas-Torrey Pines-Matzatlan-Esquinapa-Puerto Vallarta-Gloucester-Provincetown.

I don't have the money to go anywhere now.

LATER

We wake to birds singing in the alley and make love on a dusty futon. The two of us shared a bath in the kitchen tub. Alice washes me and I shampooed her hair with the sun streaming through the willows in the alley. After I go to buy groceries at the bodega and on the way back and the domino players across the street greet me with a wave.

Hakkim is sitting on a stoep farther down the street, sporting a bloody head bandage. George has a black eye and a swollen cheek. Their eyes follow me, but neither man tries to attack me. I enter the apartment. Alice has cleaned everything for the tenth time.

"Do you want to wake up at 9 tomorrow morning and take me to school?" she asks, touching my hand.

"I don't know." Her acting classes were on the Upper West Side. The other side of the world from the East Village. Some of the streets were as bad as these, but Alice was worried about Hakkim.

"You don't have to be so mean." "I don't expect that from you>"

"Then I'll be your bodyguard." I came from the South shore. We fought everyone no matter what the odds. "And I'll do it in the winter when the city is dark."

"My hero."

I looked at the collapsible steel guard gates.

She only wanted one thing.

To be safe.

After putting up the gates we painted the walls.After one coat I thought we were done. Alice held up another can.

Ivory white.

I've have had lovers before, but never lived with any women than my mother and sisters. This was just about sex and one month ago Harriet the thin nurse from Boston said, "Fuck me anytime you want." We lasted a month.

After leading the American League East most of the summer the Red Sox have collapsed into a slump and surrendered First Place to the Tampa Bay Rays. I hate every team from the Gulf Coast city. The Rays win too much.

I watch nothing on the TV. I look at my journal a little. Mostly I surf the internet for my condition.

This morning the surgeons sealed my stomach lesions. The anesthesiologist gassed me with propofol. I said, "Tell me go and I'll see if I can count backward from ten."

"Okay. 1-2-3 go."

My consciousness disappeared along with reality and I woke in a blinding whiteness. I have been an atheist since age 8, but I am a true devotee to nothingness and that coma was nirvana. was it.

As for sex.

I've been faithful to Mem.

I know she loves me.