“Now in terms of sex, there are a lot of different personal feelings. There are girls I know who are completely into women’s lib to the extent that they think it is morally wrong for a woman to ball a man because of politics, sexual politics. Now how do I relate to that? I think they’re out of their fucking heads, to tell you the truth, but at the same time I can dig that they’re going through some certain kinds of necessary changes. Like what they’re into is insane, but it’s very sane for them to be into this particular insanity at this particular time in terms of what it will do for their heads to be there. I don’t know if you can dig that, if I’m finding the right words to put it into, but maybe you can see what I mean.”
“Yes, I think so.”
“There are a lot of people who feel for themselves that sex has to be part of a love trip. That you can’t just fuck a cunt but that you have to fuck the whole person, and if you don’t have the proper feeling for the person it’s immoral to ball them. I’m not into that but I can dig it, and people who are into it will not necessarily condemn people who aren’t. Almost everybody has the feeling that other people’s scenes may be right for them as long as nobody gets wrecked by it. You would condemn a person who was violent, for example. You will now and then hear some asshole rapping that if violence is somebody’s thing they’re entitled to it, that if some dude is into rape then it’s good for his head to go around raping chicks, but this is bullshit and the person saying it generally knows it’s bullshit. Anything that doesn’t hurt anybody, that doesn’t fuck anybody up, is cool. But after that there’s a line drawn.”
Does it bother him that Glory occasionally turns tricks?
“That she’s balling somebody? No. I honestly don’t care who she balls. If she wants to ball for money, fine. As long as it doesn’t bother her why should it bother me? I’m not into jealousy. And if she wants to ball somebody because he turns her on, also fine. The typical married person, I can’t understand him. He worries that his wife wants to ball someone and that she might actually do something about it. What in hell does he want? He’s supposed to love this woman. Does he want her to take this desire and put a lid on it? To not do something that she wants to do? And is this shit supposed to be love?
“No way.
“Like a few nights ago this cat from next door was over, and the three of us were sitting around smoking and drinking wine, and you could pick up heavy vibrations between this cat and Glory. Neither of us knew him very well but we dug him as a person. I wanted to give them a chance to work it out but I didn’t know him well enough to say it right out front, so I said I had to see a guy over on St. Mark’s Place and I would be back in a couple of hours. And they made it while I was gone, which I would of been disappointed if they didn’t since I didn’t have to meet anybody and what I did was spend an hour and a half walking around doing nothing. But they made it, and he had split by the time I got back, and Glory and I rapped about it and she said how she dug it, and maybe she would ball him again sometime but she was in no big rush, and then as it happened we smoked some more and went to bed, and she said all he really did was make her want me more than ever.
“Sometimes Glory likes to make it with girls. I dig watching that. It’s something I happen to dig. A couple of girls eating each other, playing with each other. It’s pretty to watch. Sometimes it’s exciting but sometimes all it is is pretty and tender and I don’t want to do anything but watch and groove on it.
“When Glory goes out and works cars over on Second Avenue, the only thing that bothers me is worrying about her safety. That she could get busted, which has never happened yet but it’s possible. But mostly that somebody could be violent toward her. That worries me, because she’s small and couldn’t protect herself. But if you think about it, considering the neighborhood, she’s probably safer in some square’s car than walking down the street.
“That’s the one thing that bothers me and the one thing that will make us split from this scene sooner or later. There are so many beautiful people around here but there are also so many people who are out of their fucking heads. We’ve been lucky so far. The place gets ripped off by junkies looking for something to steal. That happens regularly but never when anybody’s home, and since there’s nothing that we own that anybody could possibly sell, all it really is is a nuisance. Oh, maybe somebody steals a few dollars’ worth of grass but what else do we have? That’s the thing, you can’t live in this neighborhood and figure on owning anything, because sooner or later it gets stolen.
“And once some speed freak tried to start up with me, but I punched him out. I got into the habit of carrying this flashlight battery in my pocket. When I lose one I spend thirty-nine cents and get another one. Put it in your fist and when you hit somebody it’s the same as if you were wearing brass knuckles, and it’s perfectly legal, no cop ever arrested anybody for having a flashlight battery in his pocket. I’ve been carrying one around for a couple of years and only once did I ever take a punch at anybody, and that includes all the queers I’ve been with. As violent as this neighborhood can get, that’s as close as the violence ever came to either of us.”
About four months later, I ran into Flip on Third Avenue in the Sixties. He looked just as he had when I had seen him last. We talked briefly on the street, and I suggested we stop somewhere for a cup of coffee.
“Come up to my place, man.”
I said I had an appointment in the area and didn’t want to go all the way down to the East Village.
“No East Village. You didn’t know I moved? I got a place a couple blocks from here. Come on.”
We walked a few blocks, then turned into a new apartment building with canopy, doorman, and plush lobby. He grinned at the expression on my face. “It’s no hype, Jack. This is where I’m at.”
“And Glory?”
“We’re still an entry. She’s upstairs, she’ll be surprised to see you.”
“Did you come into money or something?”
“Just a new hustle.”
The apartment was small but comfortable. It was nicely furnished. Glory was sitting on a convertible sofa listening to soft rock on an elaborate stereo rig. The apartment rental, I learned, was just over three hundred dollars a month.
“We got so we had had it with the neighborhood,” Flip explained. “Quite a change, isn’t it? What happened was we found we were spending more and more of our time just being alone with each other. That we were more and more often getting bugged when other people dropped by. And that we weren’t spending any time hanging around the street. To hustle, but not to hang around and rap with people. So we thought, shit, if we’re going to spend a lot of time in a place, why not make it comfortable? And you couldn’t make the other place comfortable. You couldn’t even have a comfortable place in that neighborhood.”
“But the East Sixties?”
“We figured, do something, why not do it all the way? We were talking about getting out of the city but we realized we’re not ready for that yet. Maybe someday but not yet. So we found this place, and the rent’s a bitch, no question, all this money for what amounts to one room, where we had three rooms before for $62.50 a month.”
“But bread isn’t a problem,” Glory said.
“Yeah, we found a new hustle.”
“Show him the ad, baby.”
Flip handed me a copy of Screw with one of the personal ads circled in magic marker.
I read:
“Beautiful young hippie couple, 19 and 20, will swing with couples or singles for bread.”