When you are 21, you spend your time looking for the one being that can fill the gaping hole in your gut. It’s the pitch black void that you had been filling with the lame shit of your youth, but it’s not until you come of age, that you realize it can be temporarily filled with the presence of another. I met David in Santa Cruz that year. He was a 42 year old professor from the East Coast, who spent his time cycling, drinking, and writing his memoirs in Boston. When I met him, he wore a Vietnam memorial bracelet; It wasn’t until we watched Harold and Maude that I realized it’s objective was to conceal the wrist scars from his last attempt. I spent the next 3 years seeking the words that would communicate how beautiful life was….Tibetan monks, Vatican priests, and poets all gave me their suggestions and I relayed them faithfully.
I had never spoken to his roommate Trina, but I knew I never wanted to hear her voice. It was 5:38 a.m, August 26th, 1991, when she finally called.
“Is this Allen?” came her rasp, “This is Trina”.
And that was it….it was simply and utterly over.
Allen
