I was in the Gay Street House, playing some 45 RPM records. My mother was somewhere in the House. My old buddy Phil Lane showed up; he had come to vacuum carpets. I pointed out dirty spots on the carpet in the living room. I thought the carpet upstairs was probably not in bad shape. As Lane and I walked through the House, we began talking. He worked legitimately now and was making lots of money; but I wondered if he still dealt drugs. I asked him; he in turn asked me if I had ever tried a certain type of drug with a complicated name. I told him I hadn't – I hadn't used any drugs in a long time. He looked surprised. He pulled out a paper with pictures and a description of the drug, which seemed to principally work on memory: the drug helped a person remember things forgotten. I wondered if the drug were safe; I thought it probably was. I decided to try it and wondered where would be a safe place to take the drug. We might go up on the Gallia County Farm, but I was afraid my father might show up there, and I didn't want to be interrupted by him. Maybe Lane's house would be the best place.