They were a clique of NorthEastern children of privilege. Cocaine-sniffing wine tasters, while my thing was beer and amphetamine. They listened to Blondie and smoked cigarettes; I listened to Elmore James and drank whiskey. They were older, sophisticated, academically and socially adept. I was younger, struggled with learning disability, disinterested in their approval.

We sought very different goals. They wanted academic careers, or to own art galleries or chains of third world import shops. I wanted to smash Imperialism.

Nearly all of them were very nice. I was aloof and mistrusting and busy.

I miss the ones I slept with.