February 12 1998, Thursday

In the late afternoon Angela thought she saw some well-dressed gentleman parked in front of our house masturbating in his car, but she was probably mistaken because it was actually our landlord waiting to show the house to a prospective renter.

I had to run down to UVA to upload my musings because for whatever reason, my ISP access no longer exists. I'd been getting it for free, without even having to do any work, so I guess I can't even complain.

B

ack at my house, Jessika and Deya were hanging out with Jessika's latest acquisition, one of those dolls with a moving mouth that a ventrilloquist can make talk. It was an antique and had cost $25. She'd already named it Charlie, and refused to believe he was anything but a real live human being.

We somehow decided to make ourselves a pasta dinner. Though we cooked only a tiny amount, Jessika made a big deal about setting up the ambiance. She lit candles and turned off all the lights and made me wait until we were all (including Charlie the doll) sitting there around the coffee table before she would let me start eating.

J

oanna Road Rage came storming in, promoting her plans to go to the Tokyo Rose to see the Ninth open for (of all things) a salsa band. We debated whether or not to go and told Joanna we'd be getting back to her on it. I was expressing all kinds of negative thoughts about it, including that I hated what I termed "the Charlottesville salsa scene" (which, as far as I know, does not exist).

But Jessika wanted to see the Ninth, and Deya wanted to get out of the house, so it looked like we'd simply have to go. I broke down and agreed to go, but only if I could get really drunk first. The plan quickly took shape: we'd get a half gallon of rum, pick up $5 tickets at Plan 9, and go to the Tokyo Rose blitzed.

For some reason we got root beer to mix with the booze, which was unfortunate, since, with rum, it tasted a little like tussin. We sat around the house, sipping our drinks and rough housing with Shira the Dog.

A

t the appointed hour, we set off for the Tokyo Rose. The downstairs was still sort of empty, so we sat on a couch and drank our smuggled beverages in peace. I was quite a bit drunker than either Jessika or Deya, and they gradually became irritated with me when I said a few sort of blunt sexual things. Deya had been talking about making a "I never slept with Raphæl" tee shirt and I pointed out that she could never wear a tee shirt that said such a thing regarding me. So Jessika got ticked off and accused me of making the one-time (multi-time?) romance "cheap." I responded, "I liked sleeping with Deya and would do it again if only she'd let me."

Then later on I was really drunk and talking with this random girl that keeps popping up at all the Ninth concerts. As I talked to her, I noticed I was being observed by Jessika and Deya standing around outside (who'd been joined by this point by my old housemate Elizabeth). So I guess I put on some kind of semi-faux romantic show and even kissed the random girl's hand when the conversation was over. When I rejoined my friends, they all expressed complete disgust with my behaviour.

By this point the salsa band (BioRitmo) was playing, and the audience was dancing energetically, filling the basement with humidity. I suddenly realized how very much I hate salsa, so I went outside and waited in Deya's car, fearing I might puke.