Duck Heads

1978. Chinatown. I was living on Mott Street in a tiny turquoise apartment. I had been given 2 kittens by my fellow worker at the health food store Gillies 1840. I was 17 and worked nights until 11PM and ran home on the quiet streets of SoHo thru Little Italy to Chinatown.

I had no idea how to feed my new baby cats so I asked at the Chinese Deli for food for my kittens. They gave me 2 take out containers. I opened them and ran off to work. When I came home there were no lights in my apartment and I had to find the landlord to get help. She was located in the basement apartment and was on the phone crying because her husband had just died. I waited. I stood in the dark red hallway, listening to her on the phone

I explained the situation. "No lights!"

I knew nothing about anything. She followed me back up to the 3rd floor. Apparently a fuse had blown and she opened the box and put in a new one. The lights came on. Duck heads were strewn everywhere and the kittens were mewing. She looked at my loft bed, built by a previous tenant, and said you can't sleep up there. Kids high on LSD shoot into the windows. Terrified, I pulled my mattress onto the floor and slept under the windowsills playing my Bob Dylan album on repeat to soothe me.