I've decided: he that leaves his shop untended should glue his merchandise down.

A


  thunderstorm was rumbling through as I took my post-waking shower. The rain calmed down as I ran errands about town in my Dodge Dart. I gave my dentist my insurance info. It turns out that I'm insured, but it's with someone other than Mutual of Omaha.

I went to the Downtown Mall on a search for yet more hardware with which to build decorative space ships in the front yard. I found a large galvanized steel box near the back of the Brasa restaurant, not far from big drums of cooking grease. If I ever find myself starving...

I distinctly remember sitting in 4th grade math class and thinking, as I wrote the date, that the most horrible thing I could imagine was some gushy teacher suddenly arriving unseen behind me and commenting over my shoulder about the significance of the date.

B


ack at the Dynashack, I set immediately to work creating a space ship. Since I had so much junk to work with, I built two. As I said several times later this evening, "Imagine the odds against two space probes from two entirely different galaxies landing in our yard on the night of the Space Party II."

I was my usual cranky artistic self as I worked, snarling at Monster Boy when he had a suggestion. I have a congenital hatred of people commenting on my work. I think this is genetic, because my mother and grandfather [that link is interesting] are/were the same way. I distinctly remember sitting in 4th grade math class and thinking, as I wrote the date, that the most horrible thing I could imagine was some gushy teacher suddenly arriving unseen behind me and commenting over my shoulder about the significance of the date.

The Amy who works at the Tokyo Rose came by as I worked and asked if Monster Boy and I wanted to go with her to a UVA dining hall for free dinner. She had two guest meals in her dining hall "account" that she could either use or lose. She knows Monster Boy is strapped for cash these days, so she figured he'd be into it. And with my Taurus Rising affliction, well...

At the dining hall, I was reminded of high school because I didn't really know where to sit and found myself subconsciously looking for the "cool table."

I ate lots of meat and starch and drank some grapefruit juice. We talked about Monster boy's splatter films.

The food service lady said we could take as much of the food as we wanted and gave us bags to do so. We stocked up on turkey sandwiches and oranges. When it rains it poors: Monster Boy started getting food stamps today as well. His first purchase was junk food chips, dips and pretzels for tonight's party.

I strung a set of chase lights on both space ships. They were looking pretty good at this point, but I decided to take it one step further. I incorporated two radios in it and tuned them to no particular AM frequency. That way they clicked with the blinking lights and hummed ominously, occasionally tweedling as an oscillation passed through.

Cleaning my room and opening the double doors to Andrew's room was the next massive undertaking. I hid most of my loot but left a few things out as a gesture of god will: most of my CDs and my CD player, for example. I also set up two computers to do screen savers. Meanwhile Ches stapled plastic to the walls up and down the halls and in Andrew's room.

I made a little bra out of two speakers as part of my "space outfit." Much later I had Theresa Venesian help me put it on.

W


hen I was done, I was exhausted. But there was still one important consideration. We needed to pick up three kegs of beer from the Super Fresh (recently renamed "Farmer Jack"). Unfortunately, I'd promised to put up the money for the kegs but I'd forgotten to get my paycheck or go to the bank, so this was impossible. Instead we had to raise money from all the residents of the house. I contributed $50 and the others contributed bits of cash and bank cards and PIN numbers. Since my car is the biggest, it was volunteered to get the kegs. John and I picked up Elizabeth downtown from her job at the Chinese antique store near the center of the Mall. Today was her first day on the job, and she'd put in a ten hour day. She hadn't had a job all semester, but apparently needs to work over the summer.

I drove us to the Barracks Road Nation's Bank (where we all have accounts) and John loaded up on cash. Then it was over to Farmer Jack's to get the kegs. I would have picked up three kegs of Rolling Rock, but they only had one keg of that left, so I also got two kegs of Budweiser. Meanwhile John and Elizabeth fetched ice and snacks.

The guy who rolled the kegs out to my car was impressed with the fact that I could pack two kegs in my trunk (well, almost; I had to tie the hatch down) and that I could load them all by myself.

The heavily-loaded Dart sat at a noticeably different angle. It braking behaviour was also completely unfamiliar. At the Dynashack, Franz of Abundance House helped us unload.

An eerie calm descended over the Dynashack. Franz was the only non-resident there, and none of the kegs were tapped. I sat in my room and felt satisfied with all the things I'd done today.

Amy the Briggs (the girl who works in the Tokyo Rose) in the Dynashack kitchen.

Me in the Dynashack kitchen.

From left: Cory the Java Hut coffee cart girl in my room. In the background is her housemate named Kirsten.

Joanna the little-known Malvern Girl (left) and Theresa (right).

Monster Boy and his spiked hair.

Leticia in full war paint.

the party

T

heresa was one of the first people to show up once the first keg was tapped. She doesn't like beer, though. She had vino that she'd hidden in the kitchen's dryer.

It was clear that Theresa was already trashed. She was having trouble walking in a straight line, and for support she kept casting her arms out, most gothlike, to catch support. Often as not I was such a support. When she grabs human flesh, she uses her talons to assert her sadistic affection. I had her help me put on my speaker-bra, and she was so violent and unsubtle as she worked that it came apart once and had to be fixed. On a couple occasions later in the evening, after many others had arrived, she flew at me and grabbed me roughly, seemingly as an assertion of undying friendship. All such times she spilled my beer, sending me again to the back porch's keg line, which advanced glacially.

Yes, many others came to the party. Just about everyone I've mentioned of late was there. The band, however, never turned up. So the speakers in several residents' rooms were wired together in a house-wide network. The music was danceable techno mostly. Some people could be overheard calling the party a "rave."

Quite a few people had glowing raver toys, and one guy, Mike, the boyfriend of Liz the tanned and bleached alterna-chick, had been sprayed with the glowing contents of one. Housemate John's hair seemed to glow, but in fact it was filled with bright yellow household latex paint.

The Amy who works at the Tokyo Rose was around when I was running my videocamera. She seemed to be enjoying herself; she stayed a long time. The videotape I made was not particularly interesting, but I figured I could pillage it for still frames to illustrate this day. I thought I'd caught a wonderful drama of Persad storming into the kitchen to express his disgust with Theresa's drunkeness, but it didn't turn out. Amy had to deal with all of the weirdness that characterizes my social scene wrapped up into the one big taco known as Space Party II. At one point, Theresa grabbed Amy, spilling beer everywhere. Theresa was only trying to be friendly; she was trying to praise Amy's beauty. When she's drunk, Theresa becomes especially unsatisfied with her heterosexual life.

Matthew Hart (sans Leah?) came in from Waynesboro. He figured out how to get to the front of the beer line by coming up the porch steps from below.

F

airly late came the arrival Sara Poiron and Jessika, along with the two Malvernian boys, Schwam and Bri-Bri. They'd ridden in Schwam's black Audi. I don't recall much about their interactions with others at the party; by this point I was drunk and for some reason I didn't spend much time with them.

The keg of Killian Red that friends-of-the-house Jesse and Natalie had brought yesterday was tapped upstairs in John's room. It served the role of what is known in Fraternity House parties as "the brother keg," that is, the special keg of good beer reserved for the residents and their good friends. I didn't discover this until late, however. I spent most of the party downstairs.

Joanna, the little-known Malvern Girl, was unexpectedly friendly to me. But she'd been drinking tequila earlier today, you see.

incident with the skinheads and others

A skinhead stepped up to Sara and me and pumped up his chest and boldly said he was gonna beat me up.

I


n my oblivion, I heard news that someone had attacked and beaten friend-of-the-Dynashack Ben Kulo. It seems some 14 year old punks had tried to steal a keg, and when they'd been busted, they tried to steal some food instead. That's when Ben confronted them. Several of the punks, along with some skinhead friends who live at the edge of the hood on the east end of Wertland, surrounded Ben, knocked him to the ground, and beat and kicked him. One of the young thugs, a 14 year old named Chaz, hit Ben with a padlock swung on the end of the chain. Ben could have been killed; he suffered damage to his ear. Elizabeth said later that cartilage was exposed and Ben bled for more than 24 hours. Shortly after the attack, Sara Poiron and I walked out into the street and I was excited by news of "a fight" (I had no idea at the time how serious, malicious, and unfair it had been). I said, "who's gonna get beat up?" A skinhead stepped up to Sara and me and pumped up his chest and boldly said he was gonna beat me up. I felt like sailing into him, but we were both distracted by Sara, who, with a somewhat annoyed tone to her voice, informed the skinhead he wasn't going to beat me up. To this the skinhead responded that he'd "been in the scene longer than..." (presumably he was going to argue that, since he was punker than any of us, he had the right to beat me up). The confrontation was interrupted by the arrival of a police cruiser. The skinhead made a few additional insults and retreated to the east, off to Skinhead Central "ironically on the edge of the Hood."

jealousy's exciting impact

Unfortunately though, I was already in bed with two other people.

I

  made a half-hearted attempt to seduce this nice beautiful girl named Meghan, but my attempt was complicated by the fact that I couldn't remember her name. Still, despite the fool I made of myself, after I'd closed up my room, put down my bed and lain down to sleep, she came in! Unfortunately though, I was already in bed with two other people. Just before Meghan's arrival, you see, Angela (Theresa's little sister) had led Bad Bumpersticker Aaron (as opposed to her boyfriend, also named Aaron) into my room and jumped into bed with me. Judging from the noises, they were doing something funny; I'm not sure what. I most definitely was not a part of it. They'd didn't have much time to do what they were doing, though, because boyfriend Aaron came through the door and started shouting at her. He said something along the lines of "What the fuck, you tell me we're married and you love me and I find you bed with two guys." I contended truthfully that I'd played no part in this tragedy. Boyfriend Aaron asked Bad Bumpersticker Aaron "Don't you think this is a little fucked up?" Bad Bumpersticker Aaron insisted (less truthfully than me) that nothing had happened and that he didn't think anything was fucked up. The strange thing was that even with boyfriend Aaron standing there, no one reacted very quickly. When Bad Bumpersticker Aaron left, so did I. I didn't want to be alone with Angela in this situation. Meanwhile Meghan the beautiful girl sat on the couch, amazed. My romantic life is littered with many such failed circumstances.

I hadn't known this, but I learned later that boyfriend Aaron had been talking for hours with none other than Jenfariello in the Dynashack kitchen, kissing her on the neck and telling her he loved her, Jen. Whoa. So, as you can see, Angela is not the only naughty person in this other tumultuous Venesian relationship.

Somehow I ended up sleeping alone.

---

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