Walked by the fenced-off northwest corner of Washington Square Park in NY. Actual deep-green sod planted in the formerly threadbare hard-baked surface. Remembering rolling around laughing my ass off in that needle-and-piss stained earth with Rambler back in college.
The Hoog was questioning us about, uh, self-abuse. Did we do it a lot? Every day, at least. Sometimes out of pure boredom. The Hoog innocent and surprised, though he'd later deny it and say he was joking. Only someone without brothers or a present father (sorry) would be so taken-aback.
The Hoog would later come into his own (sorry again)in sampling the female portions of various nations and ethnicities in Bklyn. He said he was trying to make up for high-school lameness. Rambler would finally tell him "you've made up for all the way back to second-grade."
Here were some of Hoog's status reports: black girls - exactly the same as white ones, no matter what the legends. Hispanics or Latinas - dedicated to your enjoyment, especially in Cuba, which I must credit he visited even though Americans were not supposed to.
As he said at the time "color in another country on the atlas."
I bear him no ill will. I just hope he is making his wife, whom I guess I can say I am acquainted, happy.
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