82 degrees, in the grassy shade at green lake, skirt hiked up, getting clover all up in my business. every year I love summer more. I love finally being HAPPY in the summertime- life is nicely interesting lately.
I find myself reading a lot of books about the seamy '70s-'80s new York city lifestyle lately. started another one today whilst sweating on my deck- it's surreal to read a book about gay culture that was written after stonewall and before aids. freedom and fearlessness. I am nostagic for an era I didn't exist for.
when I think of NYC, the fantasy, I think of spraying hydrants and orange sunshine slanting across brick walls. I think of stifling subways and the smell of a hundred different meals. I think of car doors slamming and wilted petals in the gutter outside the flower shop. that's the picturesque scene I've derived- someplace in Brooklyn or Queens...
real NYC memories: smoking a clove outside grand central. standing between subway cars and yelling in the tunnel. square slices of pizza from filthy establishments. being fucking cold. the Guggenheim. laughing at the obscenely expensive foods at dean and deluca. getting up to the statue of liberty's ankle before they closed for the day and turned everyone away. the allman brothers and the seedy diner after. little kids selling cigarettes. newspapers blowing. squirrels fucking. t insisting on mcdonalds fries. rasta garb for sale on blankets on the sidewalk. buying a hawkwind album and listening to "time we left this world today" over and over.
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I haven't been to NYC since 2005. now I'm sitting in warm grass. it all works out.
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and I'm drinking a sunkist.
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