Reply to "My own private East Village Part 2"

It's kind of become like that hasn't it.
But I kind of like to think of it as the Lower East Side blogging itself through me. One needs to think in terms of how much mayhem and jubilance has been endured. How vividly beautiful are the colors of rat entrails or sharp morning sunlight on the nearly naked bodies of a garden parade. What kind of sublime insanitywisdom flows off the tongue of a delirious neighbor as he collapses in a reverie imposed by HIV cocktails, insulin injections, 65 years of being alive and 98 degree summer heat. The hilarious giggles kept silent behind the piercing smiles on the faces of the old ladies who lead a white frocked virgin through the streets to her first communion. Those old crones still know how to rile all the groins on the block.
But it's not my blog. I'm just a kind of telescope. A kind of codeless drone piloted by a gossiping heart.
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