I Think, When I'm Writing, I Have

Sometimes I Think Everything I Touch Turns Into A Page Six Item.

What I'm Nostalgic For Is The Idea Of An Edge In New York. There Used To Be These Fringes Of The City Where Civilization Sort Of Ended, And Therefore Young People Could Live Cheaply, Or Open Nightclubs Or Art Galleries, Or Even Squat. That Fringe Moved Out To New Jersey And Brooklyn. The Whole Idea Of The Metropolis Is The Centralization Of Like-minded Souls, And When The Central Real Estate Becomes Too Expensive, The Dreamers, The Young Poets, And The Artists Will Go Elsewhere.

You Have Friends Who Actually Care About You And Speak The Language Of The Inner Self. You Have Avoided Them Of Late. Your Soul Is As Disheveled As Your Apartment, And Until You Can Clean It Up A Little You Don't Want To Invite Anyone Inside.

I'm Afraid That - Not Necessarily Deliberately, But Consistently - I've Made A Kind Of Laboratory Out Of My Life, Where I Mix The Stuff In The Test Tubes To Create Explosions - Possibly Resulting In Interesting By-products. I Mean, Not Deliberately - I'd Be Crazy To Deliberately Do That - Or Maybe Not.

Most Of The People I Write About Have Been Ambitious Outlanders Who Have Been Attracted To New York From Other Parts Of The World.