Her black dress lay in a crumpled pile on the floor; all she was wearing was a shiny black slip.

W


hen I awoke, I did so with a start, suddenly aware someone was in bed with me. Deya maybe? She's been known to end up in my bed on occasion. I looked over and saw the girl had short black hair. Oh shit! Was it Leah? "If that's Leah then I really fucked up last night!" Then I remembered: it was the girl in the black dress. Her black dress lay in a crumpled pile on the floor; all she was wearing was a shiny black slip.

She awoke about the same time and was also startled to be in bed with me; much more so than I was to be in bed with her. The room was completely unfamiliar, I was completely unfamiliar, and she had no idea where all her stuff was.

About this time she decided she liked me, and said so, evidently surprised at her good fortune.

We talked a little. The first thing she said was that my room reminded her of eighth grade. But more to the point, who was I, where had I met her, where was she? I told her my name and explained what had happened last night. Then we established what people we both know. She knew the members of the Curious Digit and their friends, as well as Matthew Hart, Rory and Tyler. She'd actually slept with Rory once. She said her name was Kelly.

We got to talking about all kinds of things. I pointed out my paintings on the wall and said of them "I like chickens." About this time she decided she liked me, and said so, evidently surprised at her good fortune. And I liked her. She seemed marvelously intelligent and I really liked her face. You can tell how intelligent a girl is by looking for the fire in her eyes. I'd seen that fire last night. Fueled by alcohol, it may have even burned brighter.

I'll leave what happened next to your imagination. Let me just say, there was an unusually intense emotional bond between us that seemed to come out of nowhere.

"You're gonna have to tell her there can be none of that!" he said when she got out of earshot.

D


ownstairs, I found Matthew Hart. It would have been -er- difficult for him to not know something was up. Pointing upstairs, he asked who was the girl. I told him. He said he'd bought her a Budweiser last night at the Tokyo Rose.

She came down, Deya came down, Nicholas the kitten appeared and Kelly thought it was the cutest thing she'd ever seen. At some point, Kelly kissed me right on the lips in front of Matthew Hart. It was bit of a surprise, and he and I were both taken aback. "You're gonna have to tell her there can be none of that!" he said when she got out of earshot. I had to agree with him there.

She was missing a purse, a set of car keys, and a car.

In an obvious manipulation, I suggested to Matthew that we go on a Sunday morning beer run, and, on the way, try to find Kelly's lost possessions. She was missing a purse, a set of car keys, and a car. Matthew is a nice guy and, despite being fully aware of my manipulation, agreed.

The keys and purse were in the kitchen of the place on Wertland where the party had been last night. The car, a reddish Subaru, was still parked at the Tokyo Rose. Matthew dropped off both of us there after we'd bought a case of Budweiser for him and a 12 of Natural Ice for me.

K


elly drove me to her basement apartment at the end of a cul-du-sac street off Old Lynchburg Road (in the south of town). As I was going back to the car to get the beer, I ran across the upstairs landlord/neighbor, John, and his girlfriend. She was none other than Katherine, the girl who owns Nigel the Pekinese and who rents the downstairs appartment across the street from Kappa Mutha Fucka. It's a small world.

They were flooded in the headlights of the car of her approaching parents, the silhouettes of their heads cast up onto the trees behind them.

Kelly and I killed the day indoors, among other things watching movies and eating Chinese food that she ordered for us. I only drank two beers.

For reasons unknown, we were instantly intimate with one another on all levels. I didn't feel the slightest bit uncomfortable doing or saying anything with her. It was as if we had known each other for years. For example, eye contact was effortless. There were never awkward silences. I relate to almost no one with such ease. Bear in mind, we were completely sober. If this were fiction, it wouldn't be credible. But in reality, it happened precisely as I'm describing it.

Having been complete strangers when we woke up in bed together this morning, we had imperative to come up to speed on one anothers' lives. We know a lot of the same people and could tell each other lots of interesting stories.

She's a musician, a guitarist, though she didn't talk much about it, perhaps out of modesty. But she did say she used to play in a band with Ray Snabley and that she used to have a big crush on him. One time they were in a car, discussing an impending kiss in intellectual detail for 45 minutes as they waited for the arrival of her parents. Just as they were about to launch into it, their faces almost touching, they were flooded in the headlights of the car of her approaching parents, the silhouettes of their heads cast up onto the trees behind them.

The way she described it, his place sounded almost cute: the nazi paraphernalia so proudly displayed, and his little blond daughter, whom he held tenderly in his arms.

Kelly has also had a few interesting experiences with the Huffanator and other skinheads. When she was younger, she actually went to his house on one occasion with a girlfriend to visit Melanie, the mother of the Huffanator's child. She says the Huffanator really does have big nazi flags hanging on his wall. The way she described it, his place sounded almost cute: the nazi paraphernalia so proudly displayed, and his little blond daughter, whom he held tenderly in his arms. Kelly says that the ever-charming Huffanator referred to her derisively as "hippie." The guy has bad social skills; he called me "hippie" the first time he ever saw me too, and now he wonders why I don't paint an entirely wonderful picture of him here on the Internet.

Kelly also knows Farrell rather well. She says he used to write wonderful long letters to her when she was a student at Virginia Commonwealth University (she later dropped out).

A weirdly fascinating thing about Kelly is that agoraphobia runs in her family and could strike at any time. She told me that one of her uncles was driving a car when something suddenly went wrong inside his head. He parked the car, called for a friend to come get him, and has rarely ventured from his house since.

It had happened so fast, in complete violation of all known natural laws. There had to be a catch.

The first movie we watched was Trees Lounge, a depressing, unsatisfying, unsettling comic tragedy about an alcoholic who has lost everything, has an inadvertant one-night episode with a friend's 17 year old daughter, and manages to lose even more. It reminded me of the depths to which Rory has sunk, only Rory is a much less sympathetic figure than the chief protagonist of this movie.

Later we watched Hitchcock's Vertigo, but I fell asleep soon into it. I spent the night with Kelly.

The day's achievement: a fresh, new and incredibly intense friendship, was vaguely disturbing to me. It had happened so fast, in complete violation of all known natural laws. There had to be a catch.

---

Get a sense of what I was like exactly eight years ago and one year ago today.

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