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DEATH IS SO FINAL--Youth La Boheme days in our small boyhood town, drinking cheap wine, smoking grass all night in some artist's studio, staggering forth into the bleary translucent twilight dawn.

I fell in love at 19, she a writer & editor, sophisticated, we stayed up all night discussing Proust & Joyce in between tepid, nervous lovemaking. I thought she was brilliant

She had been hospitalized for schizophrenia. I was too young to understand the savagery of the disease.

My best friend, an artist, thought he was a genius. Turned out to be a commercial hack, but my eyes were glazed by romance & fancy

New year's Eve Party. I made punch that was clobber--too much vodka. We got towering drunk.

My friend returned after I left & screwed her.

Dark frigid January night. Bridge over river, Chunks of ice floating by. I stood considering jumping in--certain death.

To young to understand how inconsequential such things were. Climbed on railing & stared hard, wanting oblivion

Life wrestling with death--seems foolish now.

Bar & pizza parlor at end of bridge--I finally chose the oblivion of drunkenness over the oblivion of death--I came close

Remiforce 7 Oct 21
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