I am a not a real New Yorker but one by default because there's really no other place to go if like me, your wish is just to be. For some strange reason the air is real still tonight. Well, at least below Fourteenth Street, where morals and chastity have been tossed over telephone wires like kids in Harlem used to do with worn-out pairs of Converse All-Stars, while prep school virgins from places like Chittlin' Switch, Georgia, and Peoria run with packs of heroin addicted hustlers along the Lower East Side out of spite because their overly protected mothers said "no" when it came to dating and make-up.