In a galaxy far far away: The East Village Years
Some prescribe the medicine of looking forward not back; don’t dwell on the past they advise, move along. Usually a proponent of such sentiment, I found it diminished when my attention was redrawn to an almost forgotten tale that I’d penned about my early life in New York. A story of the kid fresh off the boat, told by a guy now old enough to be his father. The piece had been filed in the bottom drawer of a cabinet marked “trash” after receiving an icy reception from its intended reader Mr. B (he has a website you know). Having found new legs of encouragement, it has crawled back to my desk and, like a dog after a beating, looked up at me with begging eyes, tempting me back to NYC... Read more...
