Outside the Bunker

Outside the little bunker south of the Federal Building there was a tennis court. One day, when we were early, David and I and Bob (with CP, sitting as usual on his bad hand that he had no control over), were sitting on the bench outside watching some girls we didn't know play a game. It shortly turned into a leering giggling droolfest for the other two guys. I was embarrassed and got up and walked away and they got mad at me. The other Bob (who wanted to write like Mickey Spillane) was perpetually questioning me about who I was seeing and what I was doing at night. When Sita started coming to the group and it was apparent that we were seeing each other, he couldn't get enough of her and would provoke arguments just so she would talk to him. I left them arguing one night and went home alone on the bus. I was good to people until I wasn't. There's few I'd seek out to talk to these days- I suppose it was that way then. Who's on your list?

My spouse. Lorraine Levin. My kids. Lamont. 

There's a few I respect: Rex, Rosaline, Joel, my brother, Betsy, Bob (with CP), Dan & Rob, my backpacking buddies. Joe

Part of the writing, is being ruthless with the material of your life- maybe that carries over to be ruthless with your friends. There seems to be a point of diminishing returns for for me.
You know who I am interested in talking to is: Dom, and Mat and Justin and all the kids in Troop 915 and the bears' buddies.


You know who I am interested