With breakfast's left over bacon I assemble a salad of escarole, butter leaf, shredded radish, and gorgonzola. I head over to Anthony Lombardo's for a preplanned salad potluck. I am eager to tour his new apartment and enjoy some full and varied conversation. Arriving, I join him in his kitchen where he is assembling his own salad with large chunks of firm vegetables; yellow onion, iceberg lettuce, tomatoes and ranch dressing. I'm critical of his cutting things to the same size and shape, feeling that variety is significant. I notice a lithe blonde walking between rooms down the hall. She has a unisex haircut and is wearing an oversized t shirt. She rubs her eyes sleepily as she enters the bathroom. As she closes the door, I lean towards Anthony and whisper "are you fucking her or is she helping pay rent?" With wide eyes he exclaims "Both!" as if he, himself, can't believe it. Another person joins us at the table with a homemade macaroni salad. It was recently made and hasn't had time to completely cool. I never look at their face but they are familiar to me. After lunch we talk for a long time. Half way through one of Anthony's customary blunts I remember I don't smoke marijuana any longer and am incredibly disappointed in the slip up.