August 22nd, 1980

Marilyn and I had  a wonderful ride up. The rented car was an outrageous bright yellow Firebird– a low slung science fiction shaped bomb eating the road. We got here at the tail end of rush hour and Marilyn parked and decided to wait for traffic to die down before continuing on to Long Island. Diane left the apartment completely at my disposal– down to spaghetti and salad in the fridge and a note telling me to be totally at home. Marilyn and I wandered down Broadway and had a drink at Marvin Garden. New York is splendid at twilight– the ethnic blend and grey cement and the power of humanity that rumbles underground like the subway. This is real. This is earnest. No bulging bureaucrats. Crazy people and glamorous people and hardcore everyday people. The city roars like a hurricane. Back to the apartment and Marilyn and I have dinner and light a candle and play the stereo. My vital signs begin to return.