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Re-discovering Ginnie

So, how you been doin'?

Muggy summer night, Chicago, 1968, my cousin Al and I went to someone’s apartment to score some grass or speed, I’m not sure which, but since I was with Al, it was probably speed. Anyway, on the way there I find out that Ginnie Gilbert was gonna be there, that she had been crashing there for a while.
This was surprising and impressive to me because I hadn’t seen her since 8th grade and I always thought that she was very hot and that she had a lot of class. She was one of the good kids, got good grades, never got into trouble and was friendly but wouldn't hang out with punks like me and my friends. I was actually a little nervous about how she would react to seeing me after 3 – 4 four years and here I am showing up to get some amphetamines.
So we walk up 3 flights in a brownstone six-flat into a typical hippie drug apartment with clothes and mattresses on the floor, the smell of Patchouli, and Led Zeppelin posters, we sit down at one of those wooden tables that used to be a cable spool and get our stuff from this guy who was a friend of Al’s.
So here’s Ginnie sitting on the couch looking sadly anorexic and strung out wearing a wife-beater shirt and some sloppy, baggy jeans, not what I expected to see. We said “Hi” to each other and she leaned forward to light a cigarette on one of those massive candles with three wicks. As she did this, two things happened, a few strands of her greasy hair caught on fire and one of her emaciated tits slipped out from the shirt. Had this been 3 years earlier, seeing Ginnie Gilbert’s tit would have been the highlight of my year, as it happened, I only remember feeling shock and sadness, this chick was wasted in the fullest sense of the word. She handled it true to form though, with one hand she pinched the section of her hair above the flaming portion and slid it coolly down, extinguishing the flame and with the other hand she grabbed the strap of the shirt and gave it a gentle tug thus putting her deflated breast back where it belonged. Remarkably, without expressing any alarm or embarrassment, she looked up, through her sunken, vacuous eyes, and, without skipping a beat, said, “So, how you been doing?”.

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