We (Scott, William, and Angela) were drinking at the Gallery
after the last meeting of Curt Whites writing
workshop. William got real drunk. Scott and Angela, seeing this, tried
to persuade William to crash in Bloomington, on their couch, rather than
making the long and treacherous ride home to Urbana. William wrote this
on a napkin:
|How many here
have heard of Phil Ochs, who cared . . . ? I gotta go, gotta went,
gotta will go, gotta drive drunk, back to C-U, an almost-as-dull township,
gotta flip, gotta glip, gotta zip off in cloudy monoxide & cassette.
Bye. S'been a swell semester. Hope we all meet up writing better,
as dear peers, in the clear. Lets work together. For REVOLUTION.
||like the ideas
in my stories, i am invisible, inevitable (sic), indecipherable, barely
here, did i mention that i vanish? like smoke
in air: who who would save this putrid beer-cornered napkin? Not
C. WHITE, he is by now off to CALIFORNIA to buy an old tan. i splatter,
i tatter, i matter.
William ended up crashing on the couch. No one got a DUI or
got into a life-altering automobile accident. We got him to stick around
by promising we would show him the cool new things that were happening
on the Internet, where you could now see pictures from the news on AOL.
This was the first time William saw the World Wide Web.