April 22 1987 – East Village – Journal

Still no lights in my apartment

ConEd shut off.

Alan Vaughn showed up from Florida on route to London. At lunch today ,” he said, ” i love to travel.” then proceeded to tell me all about the demise of his fair with his winter living, natalia, aKA seven rooms of Gloom

“You know I’d come back from trips planes Trains. And feeling beat. I’d open the door, and that should be. Sitting watching some terrible French television show she look up and Mumble something like hello and go back to her dreariness. In the end I had to tell her to go and she took it really easy. Came the next day got her things, ” what do you think was I wasting my time

Alan looked at me for truth

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with her in the winter or rather being with her in the winter but let’s face it enough was enough. That girl suffers from some form of pseudo-catatonia. It was time for her to go___ anyway you had to recover after the Thomas Cole disaster. That she lost that sale didn’t help.”

Alan’s face scrunched up at the mere mention of Chee’s name. After all the rumors that they were an item had been heard even this far from the schemes that she. He had seen her brothers this morning midtown. Never Can Say Goodbye.

After all it was spring and April is in the coolest month of all in Miami but London. Winter takes its time dying there.

“How is it with Chee anyway,” i know I asked damn well the answer would be forthcoming and wouldn’t you know it before he could say a word the waitress place at bacon and eggs right on cue. Yes the old man Magic still comes through.


Hudson spring almost
The last lash of winter when black waffle river
Shark fins cutting through the Hudson
The Sun
Swollen with doubt
Shine or not shine
The street lights dim
For the dawn and the cold wet wind swirls off the river
As empty taxis swish away
On the West Side Highway
Where the lights
Inot New York’s dying night

Masturbating Ban By Wasps – Conversation with Sharon Mitchell

Pete!

Text Conversation between Sharon Mitchell in Santa Cruz and me in Clinton Hill

Sharon – I think I’m losing my mind or something. I just keep having really weird dreams and usually every night when I take a shower, I use a little bit of body wash and then some oil for moisture but tonight it was like I couldn’t get clean ENOUGH! I scrubbed myself with the hard end of the loofah sponge all over my body like four times. It was like I couldn’t get cleaning enough!

I always masturbate every night in the shower, and I usually bring myself to a clitoral orgasm, ut tonight I couldn’t come enough! I must’ve brought myself to orgasm nine times and it still wasn’t enough, so I got my Lucite dildo out and fucked myself in the pussy, while jacking off with my Clit and it’s still wasn’t enough! So I got out my other dildo and fucked myself in the ass the pussy, while letting the water from the shower hit my clit and I finally had a huge orgasm. After ut I washed my hair again for the third time and scrubbed myself again with the loofah shaved my legs. It was the weirdest thing it’s like I couldn’t get enough of anything. I just felt I don’t know what I felt like. I had an Itch from the inside out everywhere.

And no, I am not on meth.

Moi – Have you thought about issuing a restraining order against your hands?

Ha ha ha. Funny you should say that. Now I have one. I was watering last evening and I got bit by a flurry of yellow jackets. Look at my hand. (see above photo)

Moi – As a child a produce stand threw their fruit crates into a small gully. Wasps set up a colony and my friends, brother, and I decided to exterminate them with shovels. The neighborhood kids gathered to watch the show. We set to smashing the wooden boxes. The wasps rose from the gully in a swarm to attack their tormenters and our audience. Screaming kids swatting at the waps. My sister got it the worse

My father asked whose bright idea was it to disturb the wasps.

Everyone looked at me.

“I hope you learned your lesson.”

Hell, yeah.

Foto Sharon 1980

FAMOUS FOR NEVER on Sale

FAMOUS FOR NEVER

A STORY OF FAME AND MISFORTUNE

BY

PETER NOLAN SMITH

Rome wasn’t burnt in a day. – James Steele

MANGOZEEN BOOKS 2024

In the 1970s city politicians launched countless projects to stem the tide of ‘white flight’. None of the doomed programs achieved their goals and the population of the Lower East Side shriveled from 120,000 to 60,000, never hitting zero, because cheap rents, proximity to the subways, and minimal police presence proved irresistible to malcontents disenchanted with the morality of the Silent Majority War and a diverse smattering of gays, drifters, artists, musicians, and addicts reversed the flow from the smoldering desolation.

Soon stutterers read poetry without ridicule to NYU coeds. Bums squatted derelict buildings without fear of landlords. Teenager girls denied cheerleader destinies were offered opiated ballerina gigs at sordid go-go bars. Graffiti artists painted heaven on toppled walls with spray cans. Hell portrayed itself without any artistic endeavors.

Jean-Michel Basquiat appeared out of nowhere. Andy Warhol recognized the young Haitian’s genius. His paintings sampled the history of black as if the icons were sampled by a hip-hop DJ, however his mania was cursed by fame and he said he wish he was nobody like me. Heroin was his pay day. Junkies normally only care about heroin, but Jean-Michel was blessed by an eternal desire to paint through his ever-tragic fame.

I knew Jean-Michel.

He once painted my refrigerator.

FAMOUS FOR NEVER recounts the opposite poles of fame and failure.

I saw him a week before his death.

The summer of 1988 at my apartment.

He left me a gift.

I wished he was still alive, but he emulated Nick Tosches’ first line of THE DEVIL AND SONNY LISTON.

“Sonny Liston was a man born to die.”

And that is the awful truth

FAMOUS FOR NEVER costs $16 plus $5 shipping

Order via Venmo – Peter Smith @ Peter-Smith-18

Order via Paypal – [email protected]

Marais Rendezvous – November 23, 1983 – Journal

Rendezvous
Sasha at 7:00
Ma Bourgogne
Place Des Vosges
Her husband out of town___
Someplace to go
Someone to meet___
6:45
Leave the apartment___
Out on Rue de Deux Ponts
Le nuit
Light floats as bulbs
Atop the street lamps___
The sidewalk
Swept by a cold northern rain
A good raincoat, gloves, beret
Totalment Okay___
Crossing the Pont Marie
Heading to the Marais
The trees along the Seine
Bare branches
No leaves underfoot
The city workers rake the gutters daily
Jacques Chirac
The mayor
Imagines this act
Will win the presidency of France
Maybe___
But the romance of Paris
Less without November’s fallen leaves___
Arrive late
Ma Bourgogne___
Wet
Un peu
Shake off the rain
Sit at the table
A smile from Sasha
Sit
Kiss
Another man’s wife
In Paris
On a rainy November night___

Fotos by Brassai

Train Travel By Night – July 27, 1983 – Paris – Journal

Night time
Someplace in America
Friday night
Travel by night
o fun
Nothing to see, but Darkness
Sometimes passing through small town.
The semi-blue TV glow
In the living room window
Marking the passing houses
Upstairs
All the children asleep___
Mom and Dad have gone out
For dinner, for drinks, with their friends
In the suburbs
Leaving Young Janie to babysit
Mom and Dad’s Little Johnny___
Does Jenny make phone calls?
Or text??
Does Jenny have plans to have boys come over
To have no panty sex heavy breathing no panting___
Even Little Johnny’s dad wants her
Janie on Mom’s bed
Naked
Safe for the panties on her ankles___
But Janie’s not giving it up.
Not tonight
But one night soon.
Yes, that is what the night hides from the train traveler
Suburban sins of a Friday night.
And the train keeps a-rolling
All
Across America.

I always on the south window heading back from Boston to New York on a Amtrak train.

Once passign through the pine barrens beyond Provindence, I spotted a young teen girl standing alone on a dirt road crossing naked. She danced to something and was gone. I’ve never forgotten her.
Nothing to see, but Darkness
Sometimes passing through small town.
The small semi white electric lights glow
Marking the passing houses
All the children asleep
Mom and Dad have gone out
For dinner, for drinks, with their friends
In the suburbs
Leaving Young Janie to babysit
Mom and Dad’s Little Johnny___
Does Jenny make phone calls?
Does Jenny have plans to have boys come over
To have no panty sex heavy breathing no panting.
Even Little Johnny’s dad wants her
Having Jane on Mom’s bed
Naked
Safe for the panties on her ankles
But Janie’s not giving it up.
She’s saving it for Bobbie Be Badd
Not tonight
But one night soon.
Yes, that is what the night hides from the train traveler
Suburban sins of a Friday night.
And the train keeps a-rolling
All night long
Across America___

I always on the south window heading back from Boston to New York on a Amtrak train.

Once passing through the pine barrens beyond Providence, I spotted a young teen girl standing alone on a dirt road crossing naked. She danced to something and was gone. I’ve never forgotten her. In the barrens. The pines are never bare.