so i'm sitting here reading Dan Shapiro's "Mom's Marijuana". it's after midnight, everything is quiet except for the occassional car passing by. suddenly i smell a swift of lilac. where can it come from? it's too early for lilac; lilac doesn't bloom until summer. i want to follow the scent, find the source of this disruption, but it's too late, and i'm too tired, so i just sit here instead and revel in the pleasure of this sweet quiet scent. i guess it doesn't really matter where the scent came from, now that it's here. on a cool night like this, i'm glad to have its company.
it reminds me of Ha Long, an old friend from college. crazy sick dude. as in very funny and goofy. tall, lanky man forever in his teens. studied microbiology (i believe his dissertation was something about viral replication), taught himself the guitar, took motorcycle lessons and bought himself a second-hand harvey, loved to cook and eat and drink home-made beer ...made in his bathtub. i miss that crazy dude.
he introduced me to this other dude, who, here, sings about lilac wine: