beth:
two years and im walking along market street back from a night on the
castro. someones leaning over a railing with short dyed red hair. i think
maybe this is stuart. i havent seen him since new orleans. he was moving to
sf when he left (later i found out he moved to ann arbor instead. now he
lives in indiana somewhere). i approach and ask. the figure stands up.
last person in the world i thought id see.
shes working at tower records with my friend chaz. they dont mind her looks
and she has fun even if not being paid much. doesnt want a job that
would make lots of money, but that shed hate. dread going into work each
day. we go clubbing. hanging out occasionally.
she talks about her friend suzanna. back in nyc. how they dont connect as
much anymore. suzannas still all caught up in the gutter punk/squatter
scene. spare changing. living off of others. beth doesnt think this is
that punk. most using the fact that the system is corrupt as an excuse
for laziness. they complain about the system and say they dont want to
work for it, but do nothing to change it. spare change. do drugs. an
immature phase. fine for a while, but beths past it.
back to a halloween years before. one of the first times i ever met beth.
wandering around albany with others. we wind up in beths apartment for a
while. candles lit, lights dimmed. people are dripping wax all over
their hands. their skin. theyre tripping. im looking at h.r. giger for
one of the first times. sitting on an american flag spread across the
couch. watching someone whip beth. as beth enjoys. some months later
looking at the modern primitives re:search. man with his dick split in
half. piercings. fakir. beth was my first peek into the culture of s&m.