Stories
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For lunch I think I packed some kind of packaged sugar coated apple pastry, which I carried in a green cloth shoulder bag, along with a note-pad and a book. This bag I had obtained in Athens from a local poet who had a leather shop famous to some; along with my leather thong-sandals. For dinner I ate at a Chinese restaurant; at the south-west corner of Haight-Asbury with near floor to ceiling street windows. There was a newspaper/magazine store directly across the street on the corner. Always there, was a swarthy dark dock worker type, hanging out reading magazines; standing against the wall. Never could figure him out. Always thought he was some kind of Mafia spy, for god knows what reason.
The largest and nicest room where I was living was also in the back, and was occupied by a somewhat sophisticated type, probably six feet tall, slim, dark and handsome; with black-hair combed straight-back, clean shaven, no hippie and well dressed. Don't remember his name; not my forte, but we will call him Carter, a name suitable to his exterior appearance and demeanor. Carter was very friendly, but we seemed not too have all that much in common. It was a surprise to me when months later while I was living in North Beach, while sitting in the Minimum Daily Requirement, a coffee house famous for it's cheap sixty-cent Pea Soup and fresh French bread, a big hang-out at the time, there came in one evening Carter with a tall flamboyant seeming drag-queen, complete with five-person entourage. He left his group and came over to see me which was nice of him. He seemed embarrassed, as now it might seem obvious he was gay.
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