have to use to get inside, not normal doors, the painters living
there are illegal and there’s no shops or stores to step into and
Jill’s gallery is w ay downtown, near Canal Street, a long walk,
and the cold’s hurting me and I’m afraid. M y mind is rocking
back and forth from I can find someone and if I have to I’ll fuck
them even no matter what and I can make it from two to six if I
have to, I can. There’s no bums out, there’s no whores,
everyone’s folded inside some crease somewhere and anyone
who ain’t might not live until morning; there’s nights like that;
and I get there and I take the warehouse elevator up and it’s
white, it’s a huge warehouse room painted a glossy white and
there’s all these people dressed in real clothes, you know,
outfits, for style, and the w om en’s all acting nice and flirty
with the men and it’s warm and the men’s all acting smart and
polite and civilized and there’s wine, white wine, and there's
Stoli and bourbon and ice, and there’s cheese and some little
pieces o f food, some little sandwiches, tender little things you
can eat in one bite, yo u ’d be hard pressed to take two, you
know those funny little sandwiches that are always wet and
sort o f wilted, and the room ’s so shiny and white and big the
people almost disappear in it, the ceiling’s so high you feel like
a little ant, and it seems the people are sparse though there’s a
lot o f them, they don’t look like the wind got to them but
rather they’re all polished up, all shined, and there’s paintings
on the walls, Jill’s paintings, and in the middle o f the room
there’s Jill but she’s not looking all polished up, she’s sort o f
gray and miserable, and I say hi and I congratulate her and
she’s mad and sad and I say well it’s a big deal, really, and your
nerves are bound to get frayed, aren’t they, and she gets darker
and stranger, and Paul comes over, and she glowers, and he
says some pleasant things, and she and he seem to agree that
the paintings are on the wall and the people are in the room,
and there’s a certain amount o f tension over this, and Paul’s
saying normal things like hey have something to drink and
there’s food, take some, or have some, and I’m saying the sort
o f foolish things people say about paintings, aren’t they
strong, aren’t they interesting, haven’t they grown, don’t they
dominate the room, and it works kind o f like Valium because
Jill evens out and there’s a small smile out o f one side o f her
mouth at least and I think I should just walk around and see
about finding someone I can ask for a place to sleep, and I walk
around, and I have one drink to warm up because I can’t drink
because I don’t know what the rest o f the night will be and
relaxing isn’t in the picture until there’s shelter and I have a wet
sandwich and I chat with this woman and this man and they’re
mostly painters and they really all want to say something
about the relationship, Paul and Jill, not the paintings, so
there’s this catty, gossipy quality to everything and also it’s all
