January 1978 Sunday
Hung at the Earle with Jesse then split for the Bon Soir. The fat manager, Floyd, about 40, laid his rap on me all night. Bought me one drink. Ace’s brother Timmy just got outta the joint. Bought me one drink.
Shortrun and Brother Joey showed up at 3:30AM. Short bought me one drink around 5 AM. Short and the Joeys dropped me off at the hotel on 86th Street. I woke up alone at 8 AM. The dude at the desk volunteered to take Short’s place. Fuck you desk dude. Called the Earle – Charlie Frontdesk said Short was there. I went back downtown, banged on some doors. Went for breakfast. Came back. Banged some more. Found Jesse around 9 AM so I went there, watched TV and nodded.
I woke up at noon – someone else was banging on the door. Brother Joey with a load of coke. We smoked some hash. Big Papo came down. Did more blow and smoked more hash. Jesse and Joey went to cruise the streets to do some business. I split with Big Papo to the Village Plaza Hotel to do some credit card business. We did some more blow. People came and went. I moved over to the bed. People stopped coming. Soon we were making love.
I used to be scared of Big Papo. Not anymore.
When I got downstairs, Jesse was in the lobby – I walked him to the Limelight at Sheridan Square and went to La Crepe to use the bathroom there to wash up and change clothes.
Friday
I got to the Bon Soir around 11 PM. Floyd gave me two extra drink tickets. Black Joey got me very stoned. I forget what else happened.
Tuesday
Me, Shortrun and Black Joey go over to the Village Plaza for a room. The clerk wants $12 and Short only wants to pay $10. We get to a room – no bath, no sink – fucking delightful. Joey passes out on the floor from all the Seconals. I make the bed with sheets the clerk gave me. They don’t look clean.
Short and me start to fool around but I’m not into it. I start to give him head and his fucking cock is leaving bits of dirt in my mouth – I want to throw up. I push him away. He crawls on top of me. I don’t even want to kiss him. He bangs me anyway for a while, then tries to ram it up my ass. He bangs me a few more times and decides he needs to rest.
As soon as he fell asleep I got dressed and split. I’m done with him. I left him a note. I wonder if he can read?
I’d like to say I was there because they were my friends. Truth was, I stayed for the drugs and the excitement. Bullet wounds and scars were medals and ribbons of honor. Disappearing for days became acceptable. Lies were a way of life.
I’d tried to be faithful to Shortrun. Even while I was fucking Big Papo, even while coordinated our stories about where we’d been during the last few hours, I thought I was faithful to him. I really did.
When I wasn’t in the Earle fucking or watching the boys bag up, I was in the park with them while they sold pot and coke. Nights, we were all in the Bon Soir.
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Posted November 5, 2009 at 8:00 am, filed under the diary and tagged Bon Soir, dirty boys, drinking, drugs, Greenwich Village. Bookmark this post. Follow any comments @ RSS feed for this post.
