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There was a lot mumbling and muttering (or whatever the equivalent is in written form) about NYC during the Das Boot section, and whether or not Jay would end up there next. Well, sure enough, in these pages we find out he did. This section takes up almost directly after leaving the boat, and tracks his efforts during the first months to navigate the city and find a job and, maybe, love. Continues for several months in this fashion.

Hello, NYC! i (23/26)

April 8, 1991

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Odd development stuff of the not-so-wonderful type (but wait! Flash phone call transposes “not-so-wonderful” into the “better-but-perhaps-not-so-wonderful-in-a-different-way” category… See she [Amy] just called and she does want to go out but then our conversation seemed strained, and I had been developing a nervous paranoia that her entire attention the other night had been out of fear that I was severely depressed and so she told her new fast friend [and budding beau?] that she had to go and help me through it and he consented, being big and compassionate and furthermore quite confident of her true affection. Because this all stems, you see, from today calling, leaving a message, calling again, talking to Laura who apologized for lying to me about this that + the other, saying that she is, in fact, a compulsive liar as well as being a paranoid schizophrenic (likely another lie), and the way she said all this made me feel that she felt superior to me, understandable if Amy had told her that it was, in fact, she [Laura] who had launched my depressive episode the other night; people in general tending to be the powermongers that way… So, anyway, I felt a conspiracy brewing between roommates and boyfriends, although it wouldn’t ultimately explain her [Amy’s] intimacy throughout the evening and the way she looked at me + such, but that could have been all in my mind or, worse, misinterpretation of her shame + guilt for deceiving me more than an effort to harness her attraction. Anywho… I began to resign myself to further Travels with Charley… But now, just now, she called and seemed (if not eager) quite ready to join me for drinks or whatever. Thurs night. So, I felt justified, vindicated and primarily relieved, but this soon turned to a general awkwardness as neither of us had much to say.)

Otherwise, day fraught w/meager waiter responsibilities (mirrored by the less-than-meager tips), pedaling home, straight back down to 89th and Columbus to type + gather tapes, back home to eat excellent omelette and type some more from the cassettes. All in the name of $$. But what better name is there, one might ask?


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