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First night in NYC I didn’t have a place to stay so I made friends with three crusty punks, we got some booze, weed, and halal food for dinner and they laid down some cardboard for me to sleep. Pretty good time. Took all the fear out of the city for me
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There’s a wonderful guy, Willy, in Central Park who sells his poetry. He’s delightful. Still have his poems in our memory box. And another guy, Tommy Celli, in Little Italy whose parents were Italian immigrants & worked in the garment district. He sings as beautifully as Sinatra.
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Day #23 Trifecta: Fist bumped and chatted with homeless guy. Told me I was a good person. I agreed Teenager and mom behind me in line. Boy starts dancing and mom tells him to stop. I turn around and say more people should dance in public Swapped plane seats again. Cool dude
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I met a homeless guy in my favorite university coffee-shop (he was getting some water). We hung out for a bit and he told me he wrote and sold poems. I bought one. I still have it in a box somewhere
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