don't fuck with my boots

early dinner of calzone & sleep at steph's house

I emerge onto the street with a couple of other people. We're in front of the Frontier, by the bus stop. In the sky is what drew our attention, a gigantic rocket/glider. Glowing electric green, red tip; thin, flat long wings at the middle and the tail. It comes up into view from a great distance but must be huge for how large it is even from here. It begins to make giant looping arcs over the campus, and it seems to be getting nearer. I genuinely wonder if it is going to crash down on us. But as it becomes much nearer, it is also getting smaller. I realize that the man next to me-- the big lug that used to run the Lobo Theater, but now has one arm stumped at the elbow; he is shirtless and very hairy-- is controling the thing. Suddenly it jumps to right in front of us, it becomes half of a cantaloupe, he is drawing it in, it spirals tightly, it becomes a red kidney-shaped baloon at his fingertips, then it sszzzzlllllipppp is gone. We congratulate him.

View changes, so that we can see into the parking lot between Kinko's & the new dorms, from the Campus Street side. A guy comes out of the dorms, and three people jump out of a red Miata-lookin' car and lay into him, knock him down, hit him with a crowbar in the chest. I want to get over there and see what's the shit, but I realize that not only do I not have my boots on, but I'm holding my clothes. I rush to get into them, but the action is over. The guy seems okay, though, as he walks over toward us.

A tour of places on campus for an art class I'm in with Adrienne Salinger. SHe has a list of places we must find, the red, white, and blue zones, as well as the green zone. My friends and I figure out what she's talking about, we find them, and then rejoin the class for discussion as we pass by them all again. At the last stop, we go into a large building. It is a club or sorts, and a performance theater. As we come in, people are congratulating those on stage for a really good idea, it should be made into a movie. A coffin is on the stage, maybe some people dressed as mortitos. It is a hippy shit club, but also a gay club, so I leave well enough alone & don't start trouble.

Claire Bankhurst & Chicken Leg show up, but it's time to go. We're trying to make our way back to the door, but some stupid hippy chick froom the kitchen with a skillet full of garlic chili oil is messing with us, bloking our way. She acts like she is going to pour the oil on Chicken Leg, but I step in. So she dumps it on my boots. My rage is hard to fathom. I chase her through the club, screaming my head off. I seriously intend to brain her.

I finally catch her, shouot her into blubbering tears. I tell her she fucked up my boots and I can't afford new ones. She looks at me disdainfully, condescendingly, and say's she doubts that they cost any money. The chase in on again, and she knows she's really in trouble this time. She loses me for a moment, another hippy girl stands there looking confused and frightened. I ask her where her friend is, she points in a direction. I know she's lying and I tell her so. I wheel around and my prey is trying to shut herself into a bathroom, screaming. Screaming bloody murder, I bash the door open with my head. She is abolutely terrified.