R

I've been meeting people. More or less for the first time after my yesteryear's blackout. I love it that they respect me. I love it more that I have earned it.

Tonight I met one of my favorite friends. Chintan Rao H. With Anirudh Santhiar and Chinmaya Holla. He watched us eat. And occasionally threw into his mouth whole rings of onion and ate them.

"I know, my friend", I should have told him, "that you like layers" in exchange for his toothless smile, or his rheotorical grin.

Never mind that, I'm going to lunch with them tomorrow's sabbath afternoon.

I rode Holla, and me back to Holla's home on my bullet. I did some cursory internet browsing and checking mail, and got him to walk with me through the streets. A cigarette, and then another. He asked me why money matters. I said that it isn't as if I don't have the taste for small things, but big is good. That all I really am bleating for is to show them how big I really am. That it would only be too easy on me to leave it all after that one show.

Back home, he treated me to a movie, while he slept on his side. A beautiful movie. I saw it in five sittings. Five cigarettes for respect.

Out at 3, when I was philosophising to myself with my cigarette, I thought I'd send butterflies to you.

I love you. I will kiss you on your forehead till your last breath.