Entry #5

I went to Melville's place today on 26th Street. Workmen and
renovations obscure the plaque commemmorating his last residence. I
breathed the air.

Then I went back to Lower East Side, to Ginsberg's place and through
Loisaida, the Puerto Rican area. Wandered into a botanical garden to
spend a while in the shade and read some of Falling Man.

There's a strange tree-sized sculpture, like Watts Towers but made of
stuffed animals and toys and boxes, where a tall student -- from
somewhere in Europe -- was taking notes.

"Do people still read Richard Brautigan?" I asked him, noticing his book.

"He wrote before I was born," he said, "so I thought I should check it out."

It was a Brautigan I'd never seen, recently published posthumously.

It felt good to be in a world with Puerto Rican sculpture, flowers,
trees, and foreign students reading Richard Brautigan.