Very tan, half-baked: rooming house in Ocean City, NJ, summer of 1989.

From a lost roll of film that old friend Dan Long is scanning ever so slowly.  Some observations: Wow. Look how tan I am.  This is the famed Summer I Was More Tan Than My Sister, which I mention here.

“You were so happy that summer,” my mother always used to tell me. Probably because I partied every night. I was 20.

I lived in the top floor of a rooming house on Moorlyn Terrace with four other guys from Rutgers-Camden. I am sure the building was eventually demolished, and for good reason: the place was decrepit already and filled with the mojo of all the evil stuff we did in there. Evil, evil things.

That’s John P. in the middle of the frame. He was a strange cat.  Worked at Wendy’s, as I recall, and I am wearing his cap. The guitar was met a Pete Townshend-El Kabong-type end by August. Note the milkcrate of CDs, my plaid shorts, and oddly spread legs.

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