I was so impressed with your mind, reading and making those maps when we were kids. We could sit together in the dark and listen to something and then discuss it. Your maps were amazing, whole worlds that you created. Whatever happened to the maps?

[I used the skills to make a map of ancient Hellas for The Broken Dance.]

Where are the maps, Jim?

[I had poster board maps in a vinyl case. That might be in my Mom’s shed. The hex maps in the four foot tube, I have no idea. All I have is the rucksack and the back pack.]

Stop, stop—you’re making me sad. We can’t talk about this. I’m sorry I brought it up. Please, don’t throw out anything else you create. Give it to me.

I remember the green curtain flicking, getting caught on the sword when you hit Howard with that baseball swing. I didn’t realize he was so badly hurt that he almost died. Wow. All I remember was that you had to move to Baltimore so that his dad wouldn’t sue your dad and then I lost you.

Things were bad for me from there.

I started getting high, tripping on acid too. Art wouldn’t pass me through A.P. History, and that was our class, what we had in common, what we loved…history and I got high and fucked up and didn’t graduate.

I got a job working at a tavern, got the job because the owner knew the family and that I had worked in the family business at Club 40. Well, there was this gorgeous girl there, Darlene, you remember, big boobs, pretty, tiny waist, everybody wanted to fuck her. I drove her home one night and the owner said, “That girl is scumbag slut, from Cannonsberg. If you fuck her you’re fired.”

So, I fucked her and he fired me just like he told me he would. I remember your brother coming over to get me up before school to go to school. But I was smoking a lot of weed and having a lot of sex and I didn’t get out of bed. Why would I? You remember how she looked.

So we go down to Fort Lauderdale, this is in 1982. Darlene was stripping, making enough money that we could live wherever we wanted and supporting me. I’d pick her up and take her to work and go to the gym and train.

I was out on my skateboard one night and this Spanish guy said, “Hey, you want to go to an arcade?” and I was like, “Yeah, man, I haven’t played pinball in like forever.”

So I go with this guy and we end up in this house, this really rundown house, and I’m like, “Where is the arcade?” and he’s like, “Right through that door. You walk up to my Poppy and give him your money and we’ll shoot.”

I’m like cool, “Shooting ducks man, you didn’t tell me you had the duck shoot!” I’m thinking carnival, right, what the hell kind of ghetto carnival is this?

So I go into this room and there is this old Spanish dude sitting in a chair nodding out and the kid tells me, “Give my Poppy the money and we shoot,” and this doesn’t feel right. There is no duck shoot game here, no pinball machines—what the fuck!

Well this Spanish guy looks at me like I’m retarded while I’m asking him about the pinball machines and the arcade, and he’s like, “This is the arcade,” and he explains to me that this is a heroin shooting gallery and then he’s like, “Are you a cop?”

“Me, me a cop? Are you kidding—I fucking hate cops!”

He gets worried and agitated and says, “We need to leave,” and I get the hell out of there.

Well, everywhere we rent, the roommates want to fuck Darlene, they want to swap, and I’m like, “My girl is a 9 and your’ girl is a 2 thru 5 and no.”

And she starts working for this one guy who is Columbian, whose big fat father who everybody thought was stupid, who dressed like shit, brought in planes to the airfield with paper grocery bags full of coke.

They want me to snort this stuff—I mean it’s all they did!—and I tried it. But I’m like no, I’ll do this forever. I have too extreme a personality for most drugs. I’d never stop doing it. I can smoke weed—though I’m straight now, and it helps with you and Mescaline being here, having somebody to talk to here than all of these fat idiots…you know, like minds.

Darlene is snorting coke with these guys all night long and I come downstairs and she’s bent over the couch getting fucked by his guy and she’s enjoying this shit and they want me to join in and I’m like, “No, this isn’t cool, I’m not into this shit.” I can still remember this guy’s name and still hate him, still want to hurt him.

You know, it was the 80s, everybody fucking everybody, but it wasn’t cool, it was disturbing.

So eventually, we end up in Atlantic City and we split up because she’s fucking pit bosses and we go our own way. And lately, I find out that she is cooking at the tavern where we met, and she doesn’t look good—because you know if she did look good I’d be on it.

That’s what happened when you left me, Jim, left me alone in this idiot, pleasure-seeking world.

Now, Mescaline, I really appreciate everything you and Jimmy have done for me cleaning up after this flood, the wood stove, we could have never moved that fucker without your strong ass. I’m going to give you the combination to the safe, cut you a key for the front door, and you’re family. You need anything, give me a call. Just, please, don’t abandon me like this motherfucker—there he goes again, hobo Jim heading the fuck out west and leaving us here in this shithole…thanks a lot, motherfucker!

An hour later, the two men dropped me off at the train station and each gave me a handshake, a hug and a salute and my host said…

Don’t be a stranger, brother. I love you.

That is Rick, my oldest friend.