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Category Archive for 'Drugs'

Flash! Flowers. Candles. Bikinis. Thongs. Glitter. Poetry. The WWIB West Indian Day Parade float has them all and more— especially spondees, candles and flash. A funny thing happened on the way to botanica row on Rutland Road yesterday. DJ Coconutter stopped in for a drink at the Keg Lounge on East New York Avenue and […]

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I can feel the heat closing in, feel them out there making their moves, setting up their devil doll stool pigeons, crooning over my spoon and dropper I throw away at Washington Square Station, vault a turnstile and two flights down the iron stairs, catch an uptown A train… Young, good looking, crew cut Ivy […]

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Things glow because of the underlay of ownership. (Those last-stand defenders of capitalism who may construe this remark to bolster their cause, open your eyes. You should see tomb. This book is not addressed to you and presupposes the passage of a century or two since your deaths.) An old newspaper clipping is the most […]

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Let us take a day in Balzac’s working life, a day typical of thousands. Eight o’clock in the evening. The citizen’s of Paris have long since finished their day’s work and left their offices, shops or factories. After  having dined with either their families, or their friends, or alone, they were beginning to pour out […]

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May 8, 1997 Consider crimes that are defined by a state of being, rather than the perpetrating of some definite act at definite time and place. Such laws are already in action. In New Orleans I saw the beginning: Agent: “I’m going to have to send you to prison.” Suspect: “Why Mr. Faulkner?” (Yes, he […]

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Salvador Hassan O’Leary, alias The Shoe Store Kid, alias Wrong Way Marv, alias After Birth Leary, alias Slunky Pete, alias Placenta Juan, alias K.Y. Ahmed, alias El Chinche, alias El Culito, etc., etc., for fifteen solid pages of dossier, first tangled with the law in NYC where he was traveling with a character known to […]

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“When Donald Peabody Coffin first lived in Brooklyn, State Street was still a slum, and his most memorable concerned the time he accidentally locked himself on the roof on New Year’s Eve and was shot at by a drunken Puerto Rican on the stroke of midnight. He was on the roof of the opposite tenement. […]

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“When Donald Peabody Coffin first lived in Brooklyn, State Street was still a slum, and his most memorable concerned the time he accidentally locked himself on the roof on New Year’s Eve and was shot at by a drunken Puerto Rican on the stroke of midnight. He was on the roof of the opposite tenement. […]

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As we settle into the realities of President Obama— the hopes sustained (a partially decent housing plan) and disappointments alike (the appointment of the venal Aldolfo Carrión Jr. as Urban Affairs Director)— it’s a good time to remember the nation of Guyana and their seemingly endless civil travails. Haven’t thought about Guyana since your last […]

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Californian Kim Cooper is many things to many people: writer, editor, Scram magazine tyro, historian, catalyst and the conjunction of so many hep underground cultural currents, I can’t name half of them without wanting to cannonball into the La Brea Tar Pits. Were I able to list them them all, I’d jump into The Wedge […]

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