PLNY Motion Lotion

[davemarc]

It's already been, oh, more than 24 hours since this most recent P-list
effort, and whaddaya know--the memory's already passed beyond reliability. 
So once again I report on a PLNY gathering asking your indulgence of any
misremembered moments.

There were three--no, five--no, eight--of us in the Yaffa Milkbar.  First
to show up from the P-list (and thereby winning the pink piggy bank door
prize) was the incomparably mysterious muse RUTHSINGS.  Then came your
humble narrator with special guest Ben Kim, rock critic/impresario based in
Windy City, USA.  On our heels (actually a little bit behind them) came the
admirable Catherine P. (I failed to ask if the P stood for Pynchon) and her
non-list friend Mira Max.  A highly reliable source informs me that a
certain P-lister lurked nearby with two buddies, then went on to catch
Fluffer while the rest of us were busy chatting about the usual subjects:
P-list personae, blue bandanae, Edison and engineering, exotic libations,
fifteen-year old actors, that crazy ol' Henry Darger exhibit, legal issues
pertaining to the publication of Pynchon pix, and the question of whether
St. Mark's Place should be renamed davemarc's place.  

We finally managed to tear ourselves away from Yaffa, leaving behind at
least one kindly waitron who is probably still desperately seeking our
order.  Due to karmic obligation, Catherine and Mira were sucked into the
nearby Frigidaire Cocktail Lounge, leaving only three of us to brave Coney
Island High, the only rock 'n' roll dive designed by David Lynch.  Turned
out it was Thanatoid Night!  We mounted the fabled mechanical horses and
rode around the room, spotting a the ghosts of Kid Twist and Isaac Bashevis
Singer amidst the typically subdued mob, and then passed through a set of
red curtains into some sort of Lodge, where we watched the entire original
cast of the movie West Side Story perform a program of circle dances.  We
never did get back to Coney Island High, but a highly reliable source
informs me that Lotion kicked some proverbial butt and even had some
fiftysomething-looking fellow in baggy pants and an Inishiro Honda T-shirt
intoning "I'm not Thomas Pynchon...I'm not Thomas Pynchon..." into a mike
for the duration of one ten-minute number.

Wishing you were there,

davemarc