July 6th, 1973
[continued]
–just now I flashed so heavily on New York– Greenwich Village. Oh God, I can’t believe that time has passed and I am so far away from so many feelings that brought me so much happiness– that corner right there by the library– the corner art gallery/store and the shop with cheese and flowers and nuts– and the pastry shop next to it. Oh God, I think of New York and the 13th Street and Frank and Angela and Jesi and E.S. McCann and the subway. And my lover in Brooklyn– that sexy Jewish lawyer. Christ God! What things have I settled for in life! Those long nights of passion with Bill in his fantastic apartment off Washington Square– Bill holding me tight through the night– our long snowy nights–
Spacin’, jangling down through the Village.
Malted milk at Spiro’s with Peggy. Late night coffee and writing at the Silver Dollar.
Getting fucked in the middle of the day by that sexy Mediterranean Jew– Ira. Christ God, how he could fuck me. I was just like a skinny Italian housewife looking up into those bright black eyes in Tommy’s apartment. Doing poppers into dawn and eternity holding my dark man from Yonkers.
Making out with Joel on the park bench on the pavilion in Brooklyn Heights. The tiny silver ankle necklace I bought him. I remember a life of passion and great romance and I find myself tonight quite cold in an apartment in Washington, D.C.– feeling like shit– down on the world and myself– with some hick faggot from Marathon Shores (Jesus). Florida. Christ God.
Some two-bit, tin-horn– stupid sonofabitch prancing like some nelly queer-time idiot through a fucking mall shopping center in some weird pantomime with a fucking queer bastard with his dick showing through his pants.
That’s right up Richard’s alley though. Cheap sick sex in a car. Richard is the sickest piece of crap to ever pass for a human being– however slightly– I’ve ever run across. God, I hate him. Maybe fucking a queer in a car makes him feel as queer as when his stepfather sucked him off in the can. Maybe we ought to start fucking in the can.