While at a college which I was attending, I ran into John Cooper (a former acquaintance from New Boston, Ohio whom I met around 1970). I talked to him and he told me I had a book which was overdue at the library and the library wouldn't let other students check out books in that subject until I had returned my book. I remembered that I did have the book and that it was a couple days overdue. But I didn't have it with me and I would have to return home to get it. It seemed unfair that the library wouldn't let others check out books until I had returned that one. But there was nothing I could do about it at the moment.
I asked Cooper if he liked "Pearl Jam." He said he did and he said he had recently attended a concert by the group. He said the concert had been sold out and he had had to storm the gate to get in. The idea that he would storm the gate surprised me. It was hard for me to imagine actually forcing my way into a concert like that. He said about 50 people had stormed the gate. I figured the police had probably decided it was easier to just let them in than try to control them.
I was lying on a couch in a lounge area of the college. Cooper lay down on top of me. I quickly stood up, not wanting to be that close to him, and hoping no one saw him on me. They might get the wrong idea that I was having some kind of relationship with him.
Cooper and I were together on a motorcycle, headed for his house. We were in a city and passed over a bridge and then another bridge. At the second bridge I asked Cooper if he knew the name of the small river below, and he says it was called "The Sticky."
I had arrived at Cooper's home and I walked in. It consisted of one bleak, sparsely furnished room. However it appeared there might be another room for the bed. In this room there was only a table and some kind of brown shelves. Obviously Cooper was quite poor. I thought I might want to invite him to my home so he could see what a nice place I lived in.
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