Thought.is

Given a reasonably attractive partner of either sex, I would have had sex at least twice a day this past week.

Alice is pretty hard to impress. On Tuesday night, she walked out of a ritzy party at Studio 54 (a big disco) because all the people there were so pompous in their hip way.

John’s so bright and he desperately wants to escape the ghetto deaths of his childhood friends in Harlem from OD’ing or guns. I just wish I could have made John feel better, let him know I care.

She’s got a great new friend, Mick from Manchester, who’s into punk rock and “a totally different lifestyle,” and they spend a lot of time together.

I like being playful, and I think it’s important not to be afraid to look silly. I don’t have to act a certain way because I’m 26; I don’t see why I can’t behave as though I’m 16.

It was 6 AM when Libby’s flight from San Francisco arrived. Our eyes met and she came towards me, wearing an Indian dress with earth colors and little mirrors, carrying Mark Twain’s Letters from the Earth.

In 1969, when I was subject to the draft and marching against the war, guys like Charles and Kevin were only 11 or 12, and there’s a big difference between us. I don’t think they perceive me as an older person, though they kid me about it.

The Bread Loaf librarian told me there’s a “new spirit” at the Conference: people like Toni Morrison have changed it from a wild circus of sex and drinking to a quiet place where people discuss and share mutual interests.

Everything in this city is breaking down. After the blackout, the lootings, the heat wave, Son of Sam’s murders and the bombings, the Daily News editorial said, “We Don’t Deserve This.” Everyone’s nerves are raw.

The five of us had dinner in Chuan Yuan, a Szechuan place upstairs on the corner of Montague and Henry. While Libby was in the ladies’ room, Thomas confided that he planned to surprise her on Saturday night with tickets to the Judy Collins concert in Central Park.