Guilty Spillage  I'm walking in a parking lot with my friend Theresa Jamison. We walk past a car, on our right, which has fogged-up windows. I see the vague outline of a naked woman bent over, kneeling, and I hear two people having sex, in the car. We walk on, passing tennis courts on our left side. A man and a woman are next to the tennis courts, in the open, having sex. As we pass the courts, there is another man there. The three of them are in a group. The man having sex ejaculates. As we pass the woman yells at us, telling us not to laugh, because she got second place (for acting, I think). I make a comment, humorously, being critical of the woman and her "acting" ability. We walk up to a house. There are two women in front of us walking up to the house. One of the women is naked. She is slim and has large breasts: stereotypically attractive. She puts on a pair of underwear. We enter the house, which is a party house. It is early: about 5:00pm. We've arrived very early for the party that is later tonight. Theresa immediately runs to the bathroom. I see if she is okay. She vomited, and makes a comment indicating that she's not going to drink alcohol tonight. The house is messy: things are scattered about the floor. There is a man loafing on the coach, watching television: it's a college house. I'm in a porch-like area of the house. I spill some beer out of a Cascade Tube can. I grab a towel out of a basement-like area and wipe it up. The towel is a big blue-green beach towel. Theresa tells me to just leave it. While I'm wiping the beer up one of the men who lives in the house comes over and helps me. I'm embarrassed for spilling and feel guilty for using a good towel, but he doesn't seem to mind. The top of my beer can is cut in jagged edges. I comment on its being warm as we go down to the basement. An Australian man says, "Why can't American guys just drink a beer and pick up women: it's their house.", meaning we should be able to do that in our own homes. My acquaintance Eve Nichols is there. She serves peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with cheese and spouts on them. I'll take the cheese off mine: yuck! I'm wearing a pair of my cut-off jeans. I have a brownish-red rock in the small pocket within the pocket in my shorts. People really like these stones that I carry in my pockets, which are like jelly beans. Many of the men there have short hair. I comment on their hair, saying it's like mine: I like it, we all have the same hair.