Blondie closed out the Johnny Blitz Benefit at CBGBs with a cover of a Donna Summer hit. LOVE TO LOE YOU, BABY. I stood at the right of the stage with Excessive. This was punk’s woodstock. The benefit packed the house each night, despite rumors of funds being siphoned off for a continuous party. At least their drummer survived the attack and will be back with the Dead Boys soon.

New York remains our city.

The hippies were forced into the country by the rising tide of crime and police brutality. The hinterlands were beautiful, but real farms are run with machines and chemical fertilizers and poisonous pesticides.

Punks have come back to the skeleton cities to recolonize Harlem, the East Village, Detroit, and LA.

Capitalism seems ripe for a fall, as the Kremlin plots take-overs in Afghanistan, Angola, Mozambique, and Ethiopia, but the Soviet people don’t have frisbees, GTOs, skateboards, Malibu blondes, or punk. They live on vodka. They will never beat us on the drag strips or baseball fields. On the hockey ice they Red Army machine is triumphant, but winter doesn’t last forever. Not even in Siberia.

Alice’s father is in town tonight and we will meet at Act 1.

Tomorrow night my parents are visiting setting up a meeting between our parents.

LATER

Marilyn was the epitome of American beauty in the early 60s. She was sex. Blonde and soft. She seemed sad. I don’t think anyone made her happy. Both RFK and JFK are rumored to have had affairs with her. She died in 1962. Supposedly of a drug overdose. Norma Jean should be with us.

In 1978.

LATER

After dinner Alice was sick. She can’t eat meat. She wanted to be alone and handed me money.

“For a taxi.”

It felt like she was buying my anti-presence and I returned home to sleep listening to the radio.

A pillow to hold instead of her.