Scene of the crime

Dear Guido, just a quick note to say that my trip back to the 1970s went without a hitch. I rented a furnished apartment on 42nd Street above an Italian restaurant (!!!) — perfetto, si?

Although, apartment is too grandiose a word for this place. Basically it’s a room with a bed, a hot plate, a fridge and a tiny bathroom — and a couple of resident cockroaches. But it has a lovely “terrace” ha-ha — the landing of a fire escape that drops down to 42nd Street. The place is perfect for an old immigrato bastard like me. Back to the scene of the crime, as the saying goes.

This was my first view of America when I arrived here in 1975. Then a lot of shit happened. More than forty years for godsake. Well, you know most of it. Anyway, here I am, I’ve gone full circle.

Look after yourself, amico. These are merda times.

American Daze Purple Haze

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