Death Boy  I'm with my classmate Annette Trantor and a man, who I later know to by my roommate Jack Thigpen, in a room. It's night. Annette is then my classmate Virginia Hamms. We talk about Bob Mould. The woman, who is Annette at this point, says there is a selected dance/ska band playing after Bob Mould. My friend Tim Zelling wants a Bosstones ticket for this coming Tuesday's show. There are bunk beds there with six inches of space between the mattress and the frame, and nothing in between. A man from Brimson we call Death Boy walks up some stairs. He sits down across the table from me. I'm scared. I tell him my friends call him Death Boy and he laughs. I feel more at ease then. Two men who are 30 or 40 years old come in. One starts to tell a dream of eating green and brown spinach in different proportions. The other man interrupts with a dream of his own, and doesn't listen to his friend's dream. Virginia writes down 10 phone numbers that someone, either Death Boy or one of the men, says. She leaves. The men stay and talk.