Enough, I was bleeding,
I asked the Marocaine toiletgirl to call her sister.
She had stitched me up before.
It wasn’t a problem, I’m a fast healer.
Enough, I was bleeding,
I asked the Marocaine toiletgirl to call her sister.
She had stitched me up before.
It wasn’t a problem, I’m a fast healer.
This afternoon I was rolling across 126th Street in Harlem. The traffic on 125 was brutally slow for a sunny day.
Upon nearing Adam Clayton Powell Jr. Boulevard or 7th Avenue I ogled the Adam Clayton Powell Jr. State Office Building and pulled over to the curb and stepped out of the pick-up truck to take a photo of the tallest building in Harlem.
"You."
A shout from behind.
"What?"
"Are you taking a photo?" A female security guard emerged from her cubby hole.
"Yes, I am." I was a big fan of the brutalist architecture of the African-American architecture firm of Ifill, Johnson & Hanchard, which had also designed St. Martin's Tower.
"Then you have to delete the photos." The unsmiling woman was not kidding about this edict.
"I'm not a terrorist."
"I don't care who you are. I'm just doing my job. No photos means no photos, unless you want the PD to come down here."
I hate the police.
"No, you don't have to do that, but it's a sunny day and I love this style of architecture."
"Don't mean shit to me."
"Okay." There was no sense in argument or sweet-talking. I deleted the photos and went on my way. I was a working man and in the words of Adam Clayton Powell Jr. "A man's respect for law and order exists in precise relationship to the size of his paycheck.
Ain't that right.
In the words
In 1990 I traveled around the world.
NYC-LA-HONOLULU-BIAK-AMBON-BALI-JAVA-SUMATRA-SINGAPORE-BANGKOK-NEPAL-DELHI-PARIS-LONDON-NYC
The Singapore to Bangkok segment of the trip was overland and I detrained in Suranthani to catch a midnight ferry to Koh Samui. I stayed at Coral Cove for $5 and after two weeks boated over to Koh Phanghan then finally took a little boat to Koh Tao where I slept on an idyllic island with 3 beaches. It had once been a penal island. A fisherman cooked fresh grouper under a billion stars and we drank beer until dawn.
23 years later the world is much different and so is this little island.
The coral is dead. The fish are gone. Only the beer is cold.
I do miss the old world.
Several years ago the 4th wife of Indonesia's 2nd President accused the recently-departed 2nd President of shortening her husband's life. The 19 year-old fiery entertainer had met the 57-year-old Sukarno during a state visit to Japan. She has always denied the rumors of her geisha background. Her non-conciliatory declaration was the sole voice of dissent during the mourning period for the long-time Javanese ruler.
No stranger to controvesy Dewi fought the daughter of a former Filipino president at a party in Aspen over the rumor that Dewi had risen to power from the redlight district. This gossip earned the PI heiress a wine glass in the face.
37 stitches.
"So you wanna play rough?"
Dewi also scandalously posed nude to display a tattoo at the age of 53.
You can't find one on the internet, but she remained a beautiful woman for her age and if she goes to Palm Beach this April she can meet me at the Breakers.
I'm game, Dragon Lady.
In the summer 1971 my friend Peter and I hitchhiked across the Golden Gate Park up into Napa. We stopped at a winery. A keg of red was shaded by an oak tree. Tin cups lay on a battered wooden table.The midday sun was strong. Peter and I drank our fill and some more before setting out for the Arcadia. That night we crashed in the redwoods and watched the evening become a night of stars in the golden land of California.
Photo by Shannon Greer