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Powerful.

Thanks, man.

In honor of another of my favorite New Yorkers: Let it be. Wouldn't that be an excellent mantra?

So memories keep getting stirred up. Sometimes I feel like reading your blog is my hitting Stanton and there they are--all these memories.

My mother swore that if I ever wrote a memoir she'd kill me. She even said she'd come back from the grave to do it if necessary. Besides, you've written most of it anyway. I'm just finding some random fragments that are Satia and not-Janice.

What? Skinheads at Westbeth? I live in Westbeth and I've never seen a skinhead. This is the West Village. Please clarify.

Back in 86? 87?, me and "Sebastian" threw a party at his apartment on the 6th floor of Westbeth, which he shared with a guy named Cordell, who was absent, hence the party. A bunch of skins heard about it from one of the kids in Washington Square, and they came in a big ugly posse and tried to crash; they'd made it as far as the lobby, when a gang of kids from Westbeth came busting out from a side door in the lobby wielding a baseball bat, which gave Sebastian and I enough time to run through a door down to the basement, where a few of the skins gave chase until we lost them. What made it even better was we were tripping on acid. Also, Sebastian had broken his nose earlier that afternoon jumping a car with his skateboard. The cops came and everyone in the lobby was caught, but our party on the 6th floor raged on. Later, a different group of hoods tried to crash it. It was not the best party I've ever thrown.

This stirred up so much for me, I can't begin to write it all down.

I will say this though...

That first bit? I feel like that whenever I meet up with you -- running my mouth too much, really saying nothing in my nervousness, hoping I don't look like a lunatic and hoping you aren't cursing yourself for being there!

And then I relax and realize it's all in my head.

Of course, that relaxing bit comes after I've gone over every detail, reliving every minutia, dissecting every moment in my OCD way about a hundred times!

Jewish, Catholic... [shrug] it's all guilt and crazy.

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