Listening to Mingus’s Solo Dancer for first time in like a year. I could walk circles around the island, all in anticipation for that final 62 second orgasm.
Riding above the city was nice, a common feeling, a shared luxuriance of sunshine and shared breath. But riding beneath the metropolis with the ghosts and rusted iron, a brand new feeling, every time.
There’s an old man at the Schwarzman building translating the bible into Russian. Everyday. He sets up camp there, covered with books. Interpreting the scripture. He gave me solace.
40th an 5th . 12th n 1st . Ludlow . W Houston . That damn express 2 galloping downtown—72nd to times sq—speedy g, the fastest lover en-may-hee-ko. The L to 8th Ave, blasted. Stand clear of the closing doors.