I could easily have just swallowed my last swallow of coffee,

when I took the last gulp, but I didn't. I saved it. When I

was younger, I would have chugged the whole thing, just

like I chugged whiskey, beer, and wine. Chugging got me

in trouble when I was 16. I chugged a pint of blackberry brandy

at the suggestion of an alleged comrade, I won't say friend, but

he stood by the liquor store with me and asked older guys if

they would buy for us. Billy McGoohoo was his name and he said

that the blackberry brandy was a smooth ride and it would fuck

me up. Well, fuck me up it did. This was to be my first high school

dance, and I needed a little buzz, I thought, to interact with the

ladies, so there I am in the bathroom puking my guts out, and

the principal busts into the stall. They say I hit him, but I don't

remember a fucking thing but begging the truant officer who was

driving me home not to tell my parents' house. He said sure, but I

didn't trust him and gave him a fake address, jumped out when he

went up to ring the bell, ran away and passed out under a tree in

someone's backyard until morning, when I went home and told my mother that I'd been to an all night party...liar she said the police have already been here. That was the second, and only time, that I know of the police being to that home on Overbrook Drive, in West Hartford, Connecticut. The other time was when some young hoods as my dad thought of them left a bag, or two, of empty beer cans and bottles on his front lawn. Well, the kids didn't like that, and we figured it was them who broke into the house several years ago. And Bob Dylan is singing like a rolling stone in my office.