Thought.is

With a B.A. in English, Evan headed for Oregon in 1972 and found the only jobs open to him were working in the fields picking apples for $1.97 an hour. Three of his crew had doctorates.

Roy told me to start going to the gym and working out “in case we get you on all the talk shows . . . and if we can’t, at least you’ll be well-built.” Then Bobs came in and showed me how to proof the galleys.

I agreed that we are not very compatible. Yet by now each of us is so much a part of the other’s life that neither wants to give up our friendship. We got out of bed, Ronna in her pink bathrobe, and talked as friends till 4 AM.

After Ivy got incredibly drunk and spilled wine on me, I met Mary, Wes’s artist friend, who looked a little scary – the deep purple eye shadow does it – as well as a number of people who apparently spend a great deal of time at Studio 54.

We played in bed, laughing: she kept quoting poetry and I yelled, “Stop it or I’ll lose my erection!” Later, we watched Rocky while lying on the floor and nibbling each other’s earlobes and toes.

I can’t get over how well-behaved this class is in comparison to last term’s monkeys: these people, in contrast, treat me like the Ayatollah.

The bus wasn’t crowded, and I had time to think as I watched the snowy New England landscape pass by and the sky turn dark. (Hartford at dusk was beautiful.) Instead of feeling tired, I felt exhilarated.

At 14th Street, a man tried to sell me “tooies” (Tuinals), and at the West 4th station, a Jamaican man came up to me and said, “Read this book: it’s beautiful,” handing me Steps to Jesus. I got on a lively D train with some young people on it, and it was nice until an old man who smelled of urine sat down next to me.

Rita and Avis were stoned when I arrived; Jacob came soon after, and the two women freaked out after seeing each of us in a suit and tie – though my unconstructed jacket is more of an easy-going look. “We can get naked if you prefer,” I said.

We kissed and held each other for half an hour without speaking; sometimes that wordlessness can be so sexy. . . After about two hours of foreplay, I had an incredible orgasm. Then we just sat up in bed, naked, talking to each other about silly and important things.