what is this strange privilege? four days free from work, school, car pooling. i get drunk off gin gimlets, smoke too many cigarettes shivering on the sidewalk watching the same two teenage girls wait for the bus, eat flamin hot cheetos, clean out their hairbrushes, clots of blonde hair floating in the gutter water. read all morning about anais nin and gershon legman’s three week fuck during which he also edited and sold her erotica to “the collector” in oklahoma. in private legman describes anais as very oral, but “one of those women...who sometimes have a marvelous experience when you’re making love to them...but the experience is not with you.” read also about the 1975 deep throat obscenity trials, the prosecutor insouciant, turning to face the jury: "a woman seeing this film may think it is perfectly healthy, perfectly normal, if you have a clitoral orgasm. that that is all a woman needs. she is wrong. she is wrong. and this film will strengthen her in her ignorance.” apparently bill mahr discovered the clitoris while watching deep throat. for doris lessing, it was balzac: "i learned of the clitoris from Balzac - not of its existence or its uses, but that it was part of the lexicon of love, with a status." in the evenings, i am mostly addicted to watching old political documentaries, or stoned on a rooftop lit by a single wind-chapped tiki torch with C who is in town (from atlanta) for two nights only. C. who is at all times concerned with not being concerned about anything. we talk little, sometimes kiss, eat delivery pizza. although i have not seen her in five years, if ever the conversation should venture beyond so nice to see you or that’s intense, she ends it abruptly. her willful, almost forced chill. no matter that i have so many things to ask her! back to back blunts. when, in a way, just sitting next to her is enough.