Tuesday, February 14, 2006
From a distance, Ram looked like he used to; but as he sauntered up to where my student host at UCSF and I were standing outside of Amoeba at Haight-Ashbury ("its pronouced hate not hoight!-student host) I could see he shaved- and no longer looked like an al-Qaeda operative. But some things always stay the same- his mental state dragged all the way up by pot-for one- and his swaying gait (i see he gained weight, that bitch) for another. We met up for a short while, walking through the park where the hippies used to hang out and drop acid, up the slopes onto the UCSF Parnassus campus while as usual, his description of Trader Jo's at Greary and Masonic, and his Ram-esque description of the organic gems sold there, struck a cord with my equally inclined student host, and made my stomach rumble.
I don't want to produce his descriptions here not only because I don't really remember, but its because I want it to exist as only just a psychic footprint in my unconscious, to be recognized again when encountered in the future by him- if i ever see him again.
the next night he came up and visited my hotel room and I; it was a small affair and we were both tired , so there was none of the promised food and good beer and attempts to get me laid (always rubbish, for some reason) in San Francisco. So we talked and relived the days in Madison of me trying to get laid and high (and being unsuccessful, of course) while he was the one getting laid and high and now he's the one who's engaged and i'm still unsettled in the world--the more things change the more things stay the same.
and I guess we both have moved on, not unwillingly, but inevitably. and the realization that the things we did in Madison, we will can never do again. None of the Curry N' Hurry trips, none of the New Glarus beer, none of the restaurant hopping. ever. again.
I guess its goodbye, Ram. I will see you when I see you, bitch. And I will.
I don't want to produce his descriptions here not only because I don't really remember, but its because I want it to exist as only just a psychic footprint in my unconscious, to be recognized again when encountered in the future by him- if i ever see him again.
the next night he came up and visited my hotel room and I; it was a small affair and we were both tired , so there was none of the promised food and good beer and attempts to get me laid (always rubbish, for some reason) in San Francisco. So we talked and relived the days in Madison of me trying to get laid and high (and being unsuccessful, of course) while he was the one getting laid and high and now he's the one who's engaged and i'm still unsettled in the world--the more things change the more things stay the same.
and I guess we both have moved on, not unwillingly, but inevitably. and the realization that the things we did in Madison, we will can never do again. None of the Curry N' Hurry trips, none of the New Glarus beer, none of the restaurant hopping. ever. again.
I guess its goodbye, Ram. I will see you when I see you, bitch. And I will.
