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Show Moon -116 sky. Trees more human than people, sharp angles, dreamy curves, dark crotches, blind gropings toward light. James, as you know, was slow sending checks for my expenses, so I earned rent money as a studio model for the League. Yes, undraped. Mother, I didn't write you about that either. They liked thin, small-breasted women, too, and I confess I exulted in having a body some people wanted to draw. There was something wonderful in being able to undress and not have it be a sexual act. There was a kind of restoration to innocence in this serious attention to line and shadow. Someone was always willing to stay up most of the night to walk the streets, drink endless cups of espresso, talk on into the morning. Some of my friends were men smelling of turpentine and unwashed socks, and sometimes we went to bed. No pretense of love, just a few hits of pot, friendly fun, a little sadness in the morning. Male and female, we were letting our hair grow long, for New York is always early with the trends. Gauzy imported cottons and colored beads began to light up the Village like the smiles of Italian men. Some of my friends talked about LSD as if it were a new religion. I said, no, I didn't think I couldn't stand any more intensity than I already had. And I didn't want to risk dredging up the dark stuff that lay at the bottom of my mind like sediment. I was having strange nightmares about rats and men chasing me into dark buildings. Why risk stirring that into the daylight? |
