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Can't describe this better than Jay himself. The following from Feb 27th entry in "Hello, NYC!" as he debates the pros and cons of participating in the trip:

"...One thing for certain: if I do go, I will not, under any circumstances, try to participate in the extrava-nonsense, but instead I go as the OBSERVER… nothing more! I will linger in the shadows, the outskirts, the background, the fringes. Turn around, there I am… watching. I embrace my role as carnival correspondent and spy. It suits my temperament. And besides, I know better than to try to integrate in a more participatory way; for I would doubtless fail."

And we think that sums it up pretty well.

--Eds.

Spring Broken i (7/13)

March 20, 1991

Choose a different dreamscape

There is, there IS, gosh darn it! (Stamping my cracked and calloused toes in frustration) Urg. Just ate a wondrously quintessential American feast of fried and flattened grease burger, translucent potato pieces, frizzy liquid which tasted just like frizzy sugar… Scrumptious!

I miss NYC is the truth of it. I want Manhattan, my mammy. Even in the drizzly, greasy, pre-dawn dismal death state of her, that I’ve seen too many times in the past months. Also in the earlier, post midnight wild-eyed lunacy of her. And the all-the-time, all consuming scramble-to-prevail ambition of her.

P.S.: I think we should go to DC for another limbo party

Chris: Do you think that girl, Katy, is different from the others.

Me: Yes

Because, in fact, I do. She is different is the truth of it. Dark hair / dark eyes. More distant. Arty and urbane, I’ll give her. Cooler too, in personality and temperament. Tall + dark. Alluring.

Oh, speaking of wet T-shirts… witnessed my one and only last night. Standing on a creaking shed to one side with about 12 other whistling stamping buffoons, fist raised, the obligatory howl too, from deep down where men still prowl and sniff and club their women before sex, and all of us crowded to the roof of this little storage shed which groaned and creaked  and threatened the whole time to deposit us into traction, and out across the crowd of similarly challenged scumbags, we cheered and ogled the three contestants: Maria, vaguely dark and Mexican who dropped her meager threads (although P.S. just raised the possibility of a different identity: that of the black girl who later danced so radically and drunkenly w/each of us in turn) my god! They were drunk + sad and reminiscent of the trained cats who jumped + danced  and clapped (?!) for bits of food on the beach. Yet these girls were prancing for $$ and by choice (?). So we clapped and hooted and watched them writhe and bare their bodies dutifully.

1st – dark, drunk, shameless display of anti-sensuality.

2nd – rather obese, milky and shy(?) maybe coy is the better word. Jiggly flesh.

3rd – the winner! Relatively fit, decent looking and, if I may, a relatively tasteful display.

They all did the full monty, bared their bodies, buck naked, too. Spun and tossed their ripped and soiled and soaked Ts to the wire + audience. Fat girl tossed her shorts too. Does make me wonder how, or if, she got them back.

But hey! Spring Break! And I am but an observer (remember my formal pledge before we left?) I stick to it! Although Jeanny claims she saw me howl. Probably did, too, who am I kidding? An observer observed becomes just another sad performance.

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