patti smith said that we are going to be happy in hell. and by the end she didn’t start rock and roll nigger with the seminal, singular monologue. she’s gone. she said there’s a lineage of words and joy. and then she flew away.
OK - this is a little scary to me, because if i really needed to see patti this year, even the very slightest hint of the idea that she’s going to stop doing this new year’s gig of hers too soon for me to make next year’s show makes me a little queasy. words like lineage do nothing to assuage this worry of mine.
instead of being with patti and other beloveds in new york, t and i are in berlin. we had dinner with trois garçons who all live together and have an apartment here. they have big sweet bulldog named bacchus who i took a looking to after he leapt up on t and knocked him over with excited affection. it was bacchus’s first plane trip to their pad in berlin. the berliners go crazy with the firecrackers when midnight rolls around, but bacchus managed to stay calm while the world rumbled and popped and sent colors flashing up onto the upper floors of the building which we could see across the way. the garçons had stuff for us to smoke which was very nice. once the firecrakcers died down we went out into the inches and inches of continuing snow to the mutschmann’s and had good sordid sex with a very drunk sexy from dresden.
