Three yet one (oops!)

Report from the corn fields. I am embedded. I hate corn syrup and I will tell you why, only not now. I was at a strip mall cafe. The architecture is deadly in DeKalb, Illinois. Will upload photos to prove it. Was in cafe, where an Asian girl with blonde-streaked hair said to another Asian girl with blonde-streaked hair and low-slung jeans, big 70's belt, deliberately tacky, "Have you seen Elizabeth lately?"

"Yeah, and she's as stinky and pissy as ever," she spoke with a Valley girl lilt, while preparing my cappuccino. "And Jeff like totally had sex with her. Oops!"

I was there with my buddy Hai-Dang, so maybe she was performing for us, like a barmaid in a horseshoe bar, coralled by drunken male gazes, similar to how men alter their speech when there's a woman present. "Elizabeth wanted us to have a threesome, and that's just like her," a pause for effect. "She's like the coolest Christian I know."

The Grateful Dead high on cocaine song was on the sound system. On the bulletin board: Disciples, a play by Andras Visky, illustrated with image of Italian painting of Christ with disciples, their eyes black-striped out, punk band flyer fashion; There's not enough art in our school / No wonder people think Louis Armstrong was the first man to walk on the moon; Burma Cultural Night. At the same strip mall, an Army recruiting center: "There's strong, then there's Army strong." "Pain is weakness leaving your body," I once saw on a US Marines poster.

Valley girl said she got a D in Chinese. "My father will disown me," she giggled. "I'm so bad with languages."


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