We were at Frog Creek. We made a little camp in the sand without tents. The sand was quartz rock granules. Not white sandy like beach sand. The humongous fat guy was lying in the sand on a tractor tire. He was (((something)))))) all the time. He had a girlfriend. She refused to wear clothes. She was fat too but not as humongous as him, and she floated in the creek on an inner tube. She had a seamless tan. The humongous guy slept on a rug in the sand; he was eating all the time and sweeping crumbs over. This took nearly all day. The very fat man jumped in the water. (dove) She (his plump girlfriend) didn't have any tan lines. I had gotten sunburned and there were seams (as if the sunburn had been sewn on). There were some white slivers of skin where the sunburn wasn't sewn on. The seams connected all over my body--up and down the fronts and backs of my legs. I was wearing a one piece swim suit. The attacker sneaked in. He gripped my arm like a boa constrictor. I couldn't move it. The blood would stop and I would be rendered helpless. The man had gotten me under the cliff below the horizon under the guise of taking my picture. He had a toy gun that would shoot plastic toys and baskets and pop like a pop gun. Then my friend Brian showed up and I communicated by facial expressions that the guy was trying to kill me. Brian shot him dead with a real bullet. Guys were sleeping everywhere in the sand. Every time the water would wash up they would sink into the sand a little bit more until they were completely covered. My cousin the model (who died of a heroin overdose March 14, 1998) was there. She asked me to curl her eyelashes. She had a fancy eyelash curler from Europe. I tried to use the curler like she asked me to, but it hurt. It was not good. I accidentally cut off her eyelashes and eyebrows, and the ones that were left stuck out in all cock-eyed directions. I ruined them and I told her (that)I did not. She was very angry I had ruined her eyelashes and demanded we go to North Carolina to get them fixed. I had to ride in a van with all these model girls. And they were mad at me (because I had ruined my cousins eyelashes) It was in the back of a van with couches and they were all very obsessed with looking perfect, but nothing else. There were multiple ethnicities of beautiful models. They were all angry. It was my war. One played a mean joke on me. A condom balloon on a string filled with air and confetti. Only one girl was nice. We discussed Chopin Preludes and Bach, Variations Goldberg. We discussed Chopin's Preludes #7, #22, #41. We discussed personalities of the individual.