May 23, 1997, Friday

Today's lesson: making wine is better than making winos.

I


  woke up late, at 4pm. Matthew Hart and Monster Boy were hanging out in the Dynashack kitchen with Elizabeth. The Lucky Seven on the Corner has a large amount of Jack Daniels beer that had exceeded its expiration date and was now only $2.99/six pack. They were drinking these and Matthew thought we should get some more. He drove to the Corner and I bought two six packs. I also picked up my paycheck at Comet.

B


ack on Wertland, we saw Monster Boy standing in front of the Dynashack with Kriana, Morgan Anarchy's "on the road" gutter punk girlfriend from New Orleans. She was extremely drunk and Monster Boy at first seemed to be leading her to the Corner, but then he saw us and (for reasons beyond me) began to bring her our way. This was a terrible development; after all, we were bearing beer. I most certainly didn't want her to attach herself to our little affair. I thought the evening had been ruined.

Matthew and Monster Boy talked with her in front of the Vomit Comet while I sat in the driver's seat, my feet out the window and a disgusted look on my face. Kriana was careening around, staggering and falling, bragging about how much alcohol she'd drunk and about the strength of the pot she'd smoked. Suddenly some drifters she knew appeared and she was distracted by them. We ran back into the Dynashack with the beer and locked the door.

Apparently the idea of birthing another mouth to feed into the grime of the gutter was too appalling even for her.

The wonderful news is that Kriana has decided to get an abortion. It's the first rational decision I have ever heard of her making. Apparently the idea of birthing another mouth to feed into the grime of the gutter was too appalling even for her. Perhaps she is even aware of the fact that a little baby is not like a little kitten or doll. They are utterly helpless as they shit and piss themselves for years, growing ever larger, eating ever more, utltimately requiring clothes and education. The decision was a liberating one for Kriana. The concerns of the unborn foetus no longer matter, and now she can revert to her old thoroughly hedonistic ways. Today she'd been drinking all day long, and late this afternoon had just smoked some dank nugs. When the time is up for the foetus, when it gets evicted from its parasitic encystment, it's doubtful it will even be able to feel pain.

Pro-lifers are insane. After a day of meat eating and bug spraying they cry about the value of "life." Kriana's pregnancy was never a beautiful thing. Her unborn child was never a precious human life.¹ The pregnancy was a tragedy and the only potential her womb had was to burden society. Now the story has a happy ending.

I'd been of the opinion that it was sort of a gimmick, trading on the reputation of the whiskey.

J


ack Daniels is better known for its hard stuff than it is for its beer. I'd never drank Jack Daniel's beer before because it is expensive; I'd been of the opinion that it was sort of a gimmick, trading on the reputation of the whiskey. But it's good stuff, even when it's past its expiration date.

M


atthew Hart had to go to work at the C&O, and when he left, Monster Boy and I went out to the Corner. There we were joined by Deya. Walking back to the Dynashack, we were joined by Cecelia and Leticia the Brazilian Girls, as well as weird sort of post-goth guy named Dempsey. He's maybe my age and often walks around barefoot like I do. And now he has shaved legs. Like many weirdoes, he keeps weird hours; he works the night shift at Lucky Seven.

Deya drove us all to the Downtown Mall for the Fridays After Five madness. I had a cup of coffee at Mudhouse while talking to Nathan VanHooser, my childhood friend (and, incidentally, Leticia's electronics instructor). Later, in the middle of the mall, I ran across Sundew, she's back from Oberlin and will be in town for three weeks. She told me that when she got home she found Wonderboy Neek sleeping in her bed. He'd broken in and been living at her house for two weeks. How horrible! I introduced her to my goth friends, though she was nervouse to meet them because she looked like such a hippie today. We compared and contrasted hippies and goths. There's more similarities than you'd think. They're both into taking lots of drugs, being effeminate, wearing lots of jewelry, unconventional spirituality, and sex. Both hippies and goths are also known for being atrocious dancers.

Speaking of goths, well, Monster Boy and that goth girl Amy did end up kissing last night at the big goth show in Richmond. However, Monster Boy says he was pretty disgusted with the goth scene he witnessed. He thought the people there were pretty idiotic in their long capes and makeup. He says that Gothic Amy is very much into the goth scene, and that could be a problem. By the way, both Theresa and Persad were also at the Richmond goth show. Supposedly they're in hiding in Ruckersville. I don't know why they haven't left the state.

This was the first time I ever saw someone "spare change" from the second floor of a building.

W


e bought a 5 litre box of rhine wine (since that particular flavour was so cheap) and Deya drove us all back to the Corner and we went to Dempsey's room, which is on the 2nd floor of Follette's on University Avenue. We sat in the window and looked down upon the pedestrians walking by. The Brazilian Girls sensed opportunity and fashioned a styrofoam cup and some dumpster-dived string into a basket that they could lower over the edge of a metal awning in front of the abandoned bookstore below. Then they proceded to holler "spare some change?" as people walked by. This was the first time I ever saw someone "spare change" from the second floor of a building. It was working to. People gave them coins, beverages, corn chips, and even some kind of liquor.

Meanwhile I was walking around on the awning, which is supported on the non-wall side by chains bolted into the bricks. Some older gentleman appeared and told me to get off of it. I complied, but I went out onto it at least one more time. I was pretty drunk.

When I'm sober I'm more cautious. I've been nervous walking under the Follette's awning ever since I got back from Oberlin. You see, at the University of Virginia graduation last Sunday, one of Thomas Jefferson's famous suspended porches had collapsed. A long iron support rod coming down from the ceiling above and anchored in the corner of the porch floor apparently had weakened through the years and finally snapped under the weight of dozens of enthusiastic graduates and their beaming parents. Many people were seriously injured and one person was even killed. Necks were broken and people were crushed under rubble. I leave for one weekend and all hell breaks loose in this town.

Jenfariello is having some kind of big photography show at the Downtown Artspace soon, and I am one of the participants. The idea is that all the participating photographers each take a picture at 11:15pm tonight. I don't have a conventional camera, but I do have a video camera. I went to the Dynashack and got it and then went around the Corner videotaping.

Liz West videotaping on the streets of Charlottesville.

Jacques deBeaufort at Jen Fariello's new house.

I went upstairs and harrassed the young adults at a number of tables. I didn't know any of them, of course, but that didn't matter in the state I was in. The best way to deal with strangers in a situation like this is to act like a television interviewer. One girl I "interviewed" brought up the subject of some guy who tried to get her to perform fellatio upon him. That gave me a subject to explore, and from then on, I "interviewed" everyone about their opinions on oral sex. I don't recall any of this very well, but I know I did all of this stuff because it's on videotape. Despite my intoxication and weak memories of the event, in the recording I came across as fairly eloquent and sociable (if also extremely single-minded and rather irritating). It's a wonder, though, that no one beat me up.

Out in front of Little John's, I found Liz West videotaping. She's another one of the artists who is participating in Jenfariello's 11:15 photo-documentary project. We videotaped each other as we dodged around and through others such as Jacques deBeaufort (according to Elizabeth, deBeaufort is French for "beautiful fart"). Police were out in force seeing to it that the streets stayed calm. 11:15 had already passed.

Then I ran across Jenfariello's friend Sam, and he invited me to a house warming party. He, Jenfariello and Ami Sage have rented a glorious old mansion off Cherry Avenue in the South-Central part of town. It's a mostly-black neighborhood and the rent is very low: about $100 each.

Like the porch that collapsed during graduation, it floats on metal rods coming down from the post-and-lintel construction above.

I was impressed by the house: the building is huge, and the whole first floor is made up of group space such as living rooms, dining rooms, a big kitchen, and even a library. There are also two enormous porches. The front porch is done in the style of the floating porches designed by Thomas Jefferson near the Rotunda. Like the porch that collapsed during UVA graduation, it floats on metal rods coming down from the post-and-lintel construction above.

We sat around in one of the living rooms, drinking all kinds of mixed drinks. I lay down next to Jen and Ami Sage on floor and played with their hair, feeling drunkenly affectionate. There is something about Ami that I find very appealing at such times. I think it's a perverted political thing; it's not particularly sexual.

Sleep overtook me, but when the others began to leave, I woke up and caught a ride back to my house with Sam.

Monster Boy's been sleeping in my bed lately when I'm off at my Comet shift. Tonight he was sleeping on the floor. I drank some water to stave off the hangover tomorrow.

 

¹If our species was in danger of extinction through the gradual loss of individuals, I might consider Kriana's abortion a tragedy. Instead, our species is threatened by a loss of natural infrastructure due to our appalling numbers. Why is it that pro-lifers never consider the species whose numbers are dwindling? Why are the people who vilify Spotted Owls for standing in the way of economic growth often to be found wearing too much deodourant and holding signs outside your friendly neighborhood abortion clinic?

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