O’Reilly always said he wanted to be free. Free, free, free. Good for him, I say. I used to tell him, OK, you be free, and I’ll be fifteen dollars an hour, and we’ll see who pays the rent first.
He would laugh at that. He has a great sense of humor, I give him that. It makes up for a lot. I don’t think we could have gotten through quite so much together if he hadn’t been so ready to laugh at himself. And if I hadn’t.
I met him in the desert. He still places great significance on that — but then, he has one of those significance-placing minds. He says it symbolizes the spiritual wasteland of modernity, and purificatory rites, and the despair and storm of emptiness that precedes the still, small voice of God. Me, I say it was hot, and dry, and the beer was warm, and the damned truck was broken. He says I’m the mudguard on the wheels of evolution. Still, we get along OK most of the time.
