I'm a New Yorker, before I'm an American. New York is where I came to be who I wanted to be, and I owe so much to my seedy punk rock roots. Sitting in CBs basement, swilling Bud from a bottle, that rancid burnt-rubber smell still in the air, I felt entirely at home.
me with a beer in a loud, dark club, feeling cozy and safe and exuberant.
Afterwards we ate Burmese food and strolled around the E. Village. I thought, "Go ahead, terrorize my homeland. If you're gonna rub us out, I'm going down with my city."
No, I don't always talk like that.
write to me
powered by SignMyGuestbook.com