So lovely. The horror of waking up. The green hour.
Pensive, reflective, vulnerable?
Freedom… like 1950’s America, when it was on the way up.
So we got a robot vacuum cleaner to replace the manual one that burned out
trying to swallow up the white shit that’s all over the floor.
Change the venue
and let your hair down
Young Jimmy looking fresh fresh graffiti on the roof with Remi Prince Harvey
yours truly no Milk.
Rap star. Stay at home dad. It’s good to have red-headed friends.
Achtung! Now hear this, bitches!
Taking advantage of the light… but such a shame… the cold spring.
Never lonely with a bottle and a laugh. Are we?
Horsing around? We could do it all day.
Why not? Come on, let’s go!
Prince Harvey. Here.
Up in my grill, all up in the sauce
Young Jimmy, he growl and scowl
rooftop cowboy, leningrad cowboys
back down into the apartment, away from the light, the height, the air
Back to your rock and roll roots baby, Young Jimmy forever. And I’m out.
Juggernut put on shows that were crazy as shit
but I got stuck taking pics of the chicks in the basement
Loving the colors, the flesh, the fresh faces, the sweat, inhaling the stale air,
drinking with the drunks
I am in love with the senses, any kind of stimulation. Good and bad don’t matter,
neither do happy and sad. Name? Height? Sex? Yes, please. I want only more.
Nikki York looks good at Brad’s (A.K.A. Clark Kent’s) 40th birthday party
Sharing a tender moment with Mister. All in the basement under Juggernut.
Neon Music his androgynous supreme, self in green, hair, country dress, dressed
Booyakasha!
P.S. Happy birthday Brad.
We met Brendan when we were living in the trailer-park in Bushwick. Twenty-two
trailers hidden inside the cavernous space of an old factory on Meserole.
When they took our trailers away, we built secret apartments out of found
objects. Brendan played the accordion, obviously.
I’ll miss the family dinners every Friday. Passing joints around, thirty people
talking about art.
The other anarchist place that we found in New Orleans had a bike shop
attached too. But we used aquaponics here, and kept koi fish in a trailer.
Each trailer was assigned art studio space. We shared a large workshop, and
kept some chickens in a coop. We played instruments, sang, danced, drank,
and built bonfires in the backyard brickyard abandoned by the railroad.
Sometimes busking to make money, dumpster diving, buying the cheap stuff at
the deli on the corner, always riding the subways underground.
A year had passed, and then, the railroad sent out a surveyor. He walked in like
a minor explosion. Suddenly the gig was up, the fire department came, then the
police, the marshal… and we scrambled out of there.
Jackie used to run with James Blonde. One day, Jackie started to see Faust instead.
Faust is a painter. He is big, drunk, and completely crazy.
Faust got Jackie pregnant. James went away to the old Coney Island and changed
his name to Johnny Bizarre, sleeping in abandoned structures.
Jackie and Faust threw a baby shower in Brooklyn. I met some new people.
A few months later, Jackie and Faust lost the baby during delivery. She told me
about it at a bar one night.
Jackie and Faust sat down at opposite ends of a bench, looking straight ahead.
I had to leave when they began to scream. Someone said the cops were coming.
Left home to travel the