I’m living La Dolce Vita in a cockroach infested apartment in Boston. Les shows up for a surprise visit in full Frodo ambling free spirit mode, asks if he can take a shower. An hour later the shower is still going. Les emerges looking like a self satisfied cooked lobster. He discusses the wisdom in one of his fave books The LazyBoy’s Guide to Enlightenment & tells me a story of how he was broke and by merely chanting Nam Myoho Renge Kyo suddenly $50 appeared on the sidewalk. (Like Jobs he always believed in magical thinking.) We reminisce for hours. A good visit. We say our goodbyes and Les leaves for the Green Line (MTA) to start his journey to his brother’s place in New York.  50 minutes later he’s back at my door. He’s had his pocket picked. No more wallet. I think to myself Les, hair out to here, shaggy beard, lambskin jacket, quixotic grin, yeah they must have seen him coming from a mile away.

I’m visiting Les in Arkansas sitting on the front porch. We’re sipping his home brew together like a couple of hillbillies. He gets me laughing and I proceed to spill half my beer. I’m horrified at being a messy guest but Les just sits there rocking his chair & grinning at me. I look down and realize the beer’s just dropping through the half inch cracks between the dusty floorboards & I ain’t exactly in Boston.

I’m sitting in a teepee at the UC Farm with Leonard, Sharon & Les. They’re all laughing so hard about somethin they’re crying. NYC humor to the bone. I don’t get it & feel like a total Scottish goy from the burbs. Dylan’s Mr. Jones. But then again I am sitting in a teepee. (Still pretty much the burbs though.)