East Village Tweets | May 24

remembrance at St. Vincent'sMichelle Rick

Would-be messages from the East Village in 140 characters or less.

Divine Retribution

Clouds, rain, ice, wind or lung-stopping heat pursue
him, in any country, on almost any day. God’s
punishment for spending ten years in L.A.

Global Transport Provider

The taxi driver from Senegal has lived in Dijon, NY,
Barcelona, and Kansas. He speaks three languages. Just
another working stiff, y’all


‘The debris of laptops’ (Colin Firth) on silvery display.
Everyone mit coffee & Mac. We all changed so quickly.
Can we please change back?

East Village Grunge

Writers mythologized it, residents boasted of it, tourists
ate it up. Now landlords happily serve it to us, in a
grimy, $2,000 plastic cup

Art Critic

For her the phallus was a patriarchal symbol merely. Not
the thing which (together with the other thing) peopled
the entire planet


With each new mistress he records her orgasm to use as a
ringtone, 8 so far. For his wife, the Theremin from The
Day the Earth Stood Still

Love Telegram (Little Tokyo)

Rain pour down as we kiss under red canopy of Rai Rai
Ken STOP Neither cute as button STOP But so very
very happy after all day shop END

Erotic Memory (Post Office on 11th Street)

Years ago he saw her there. The face gone vague now.
Summer heat. Marble floor. Short hair? And the legs –
long, ‘toned,’ thrillingly bare


It’s not Strauss-Kahn he fixates on, nor the IMF or plots
or politics or Sarkozy. Nope: It’s the luxury, the $3,000
hotel room, the money

Last Words

Feet gone black. Morphine dripping. ‘Mother, is there
anything I can do?’ Blue eyes open. ‘Always do your
’ Hours later, Eternal Rest

The Social Networker’s Fate

Inside, a barking void. Outside, where the world was,
she became flustered, annoyed. But what to do? She had
to earn a living, too,

talk to faces in bars, find a mate, gulp meds, & slowly
photoshop her moods from a range of fiery reds to a
pale, socially neutral blue