Last night I went to my last party in New York.
It was Tao and Justin's flat, filled with artists and writers.
Someone built a fort out of mostly a baby grand piano, a hat rack, and a large sheet. Being a large individual, I am usually left out of such things because I take up too much space and ruin everyone's fun, so I didn't go in the fort for the sake of others despite really wanting to.
Anyway, really cool people were there, and I had a good night.
New York parties are the best. I even got a present, the Agriculture Reader, and I've been reading it and adoring it. Such a great journal!
This afternoon, I am going to see Mark Wallace at the Bowery Poetry Club. I can't believe that they do readings at 4:00 PM on Saturdays. Doesn't seem realistic. Will people actually show up? I half expect to be alone in the audience.
From now on, I will be staying in a nineteenth century brownstone in Brooklyn. I've been looking forward to this part of the trip. I've said goodbye to everyone as if I am leaving tonight, and then I will live, more or less like a local in this brownstone.