Happy Chinese New Year!

It's the Year of the Boar.

When I was a junior in high school my alternative high-school teachers supported yet another "art project" that involved running away from home. I had escaped before on various art projects and they supported me all the way. This time I moved to Chinatown, Manhattan, to an apartment on Mott Street. The rent was 150 dollars a month. I got a job as a cashier at a health-food store on Bleeker Street in the Village. I would work nights and then run home through Little Italy to Chinatown. The apartment was one tiny room with a tall ceiling. The turquoise wallpaper was covered with a busy white print. I got vertigo just sitting in there. I felt like I was in an elevator going up and down. There was a tiny stove and a tiny bathroom and two windows. The apartment next door was the same size and there were a dozen people living in it. I was terrified, but even more terrified of living in my parents' house. The gods protect the innocent.