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Taki, the old rascal, prepares to seasonally vacate The Bagel. His remembrance of what may have once been.

So what does an older man do when alone in a city that once offered a lot and now, less than zero? Well, last week I went up to Provincetown for Michael Mailer’s mother’s memorial. I spoke a few words, met a lot of artistic people—she was a beautiful actress of the ’50s and ’60s, Beverly Bentley—and came back with a hangover that lasted for a good week. Provincetown is now mostly a gay town, a bit honky-tonk, but what shocked me the most was when we filmed a documentary in Norman Mailer’s last home. There was a plaque outside, but inside—it has since been sold to a private buyer—there was not a single book in sight. The bare walls brought on a sense of loss as I had been there when Norman was alive and the place was dripping with them. I guess it’s a sign of the times. Less books, more rap, more sci-fi, English no más, manners no más, girls no más, time to fly away.

And, He’s not just talking bout NYC.

Old Perrin won’t jaunt to the Alps this Christmas. Somewhere less snowy perhaps. Then again, I’m not fleeing the Apple of Decay either.

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