Tufts University - Jumbo Yearbook (Medford, MA)

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I ' d start a Festerval ' Leo chuckled, catching the drift of the conver¬ sation. And if you nearly died of claustrophobia getting on the Green Line every morning and evening so ' s you could make a few lousy bucks? I ' d quit working and deal dope. Leo grabbed his hat and coat. And if you thought, added Norman, catching Leo at the front door, You were the only one in the entire world who knew too much, ' but who could say too little, make up too few excuses for living in such a lonely, terrifying insane world, what would you do? I ' d just start my own world. A deeper, more intriguing one. Later! And tipping his derby he hurried out of Norman ' s room. Norman sighed. What now? You better stop talking and start doing what you should be doing, said Dorothy, who ' d changed back, unseen. ' CAREER OBJECTIVE ' . You have to finish it. And you can finish it without me! And she slammed the door so hard it shook the whole house, leaving a pale Norman shivering on his bed, alone. A blistery cold weekend in March, a pilgrimmage to a secluded beach on Cape Cod, a group of beer-drinking frat types surrounding a campfire, sometimes adding wood, sometimes pissing on the blaze. Downwind Limping Crowe stared intensely at the group, saying to Bartholomew, Why? Why a fire in broad daylight? Senseless idiots, agreed Bartholomew, chewing on a stalk. Let ' s move farther down, I don ' t want a constant reminder of the life we escaped from. Ambling barefoot in the cold moist sand, Limping Crowe and Bartholomew followed the tracks left by the ice-cream man who ' d long been there and had gone. Leo Di Genero was arranging joints in the sand to look like a fortress, Bad-News was experimenting with the weather, Zukie wandered off in the dunes, and Norman appeared to be meditating, pondering the wild unleashed fury of each wave . . . Hey, Norman ' s out cold! Zukie had wandered back to find Norman sitting in sand moist with his own urine, eyes closed but focused on the ocean. Unmoved and unmoving, each friend taking a turn to give Norman ' s lifeless body a poke. He looks like Blind Umo Mundah! yelled Bartholomew, plucking light as a feather blues riffs from his weather-beaten guitar. Is he on acid? asked Leo, looking up and down the beach for signs of the Law. Nooo! He ' s naturally stoned! said Limping Crowe. I think he went on a cosmic search for Fester, said Bad-News. Or maybe the ice-cream man, said Zukie, sadly. All fell silent for a while, feeling a sense of guilt for leaving Norman all alone on the sand, the shiftless sands that can be too hot or too cold to sit still on.them. And they sat for a long time, listening to the roars from the drunken crowd around the bend, trying to forget they exist, and watching the ever changing tide. 28