[Satan]

I spent a glorious March weekend with the Swedish girl I was obsessed with and I figured she would just stay in my apartment forever from that moment on but she left Monday morning wearing my overcoat. She actually said she'd be right back but she never returned. I ran into her a couple weeks later and she refused to address the issue and I told her I needed my coat back. I actually almost cried in front of her and told her I loved her and all I wanted was a girlfriend to live with and all the while a fire engine was screaming past us. She knew what I was saying and just kind of smiled compassionately because of all the noise around us. We were both a little embarrassed.

I lived on 13th street between A&B. In '77/78 there weren't so many skinny white kids in the area and I'd get harassed and chased sometimes. The only person I was aware of living on that street was Lydia Lunch. At first I was anti-Lydia because there was an interview with her in Soho Weekly News where she called Patti Smith a barefoot hippie chick and Television a bunch of old men playing wanky guitar solos. Seeing as how punk rock defined itself by trashing Led Zep, Floyd et al, I was amazed there was a new punk person trashing Patti Smith! I moved to New York to fucking marry Patti Smith and now Lydia was saying Patti was most definitely uncool. Patti had moved away anyway. And Television was over. And the Void-Oids were over. I saw Lydia standing on the corner of 13th and A and she had a nose ring. Nobody had a nose ring in those days. I though she was exquisite. Later I saw her on the platform of the L train at 1st Avenue. I came barreling down the stairs through the turnstile and nearly ran her over. She stared at me very wide-eyed and I continued on. I became good friends with Lydia many years later and she told me she was obsessed with tall skinny white guys at the time and we were both of the age and demeanor where something wild could've definitely developed. Who knows what would've happened if I had become Lydia's lover at 18.