Many have said things about men in love and the stupid things we do. I decided to canonball to 290 and 29 up to interstate 35. I regretted my car not having air conditioning as I drove straight through only stopping for gas. Driving up Interstate 35 can best be described as hell or at that time a game of chicken played at 70 miles per hour and even in early summer it was hot. I arrived at my parent's home and promptly returned the phone call. The date would start at 10 o'clock and pre date I got to see the OJ Simpson chase.

Her and her folks lived in a trailer. Claire was not the most drop dead beautiful woman. We worked together building the perfect school. She was die hard JROTC and she was helping me pull the loud mouthed hard driving athletes and the Queen loving hyper disciplined somewhat brutal and alienated TX 93rd JROTC. She wore glasses and her hair was multi colored like mine it was a collection of grays browns and blond. She was not the most athletic person out there either. We were friends first and well I don't think I ever loved her for more then being just a woman and a friend.

The sky was dark as I drove on down to the Kharma Café sliding up the north side of UNT. During that drive we discussed how far was too far and the limits were conservative even for a Messianic Jew and born again Christian. She directed me to the Kharma. The place was an old storefront poorly lighted giving the white walls a yellow tint. This was highlighted by maroon trim and a couple old couches were tossed around making the place feel more comfortable. Half the place was carpet on the 1st half of it. The ceiling belonged on building from the 1930's ornate yet painted black. We darted through the f\1st half smoking session careful not to inhale through the thick cloud of tobacco smoke. We got to the back counter. We made small talk with Tyler. He flunked a course and did not graduate with us. He stashed Matt's red furry stuffed lobster (Robere) on him till it was time for Matt to walk across the stage. Robere getting the best view in this house on top of Matt's mortar board. I ordered a cappuccino and she ordered one as well. I pulled out money to pay after Claire beat me to it. She commented "Well if you want to do it that way sure go a head." We both had in hearts the belief that men and women were incredibly different made for different tasks but equal. I guess my gesture of paying for it made it a date. I laughed as I paid. The coffee was strong the cream real causing both my cholesterol level and caffeine level to both go ballistic. It was rich coffee with rich cream and it was darn good. We drank and talked 2 Christians where most feared to tread. The feelings of death and pain were almost palatable even though we talking only to each other. The place exuded a darkness that was felt on deep almost visceral level. We both understood Kurt Cobain's place on center stage of our friends. I had been born in Austin raised in New Braunfels when it was still a small town and deep within its pockets of negative relative moral standard time enough to have 60's idealism within me which she shared. We both were raised in an environment of absolutes and right itself was a pretty thing giving life meaning. With the dysfunction in both our families we understood insanity more then we understood sanity. Conflict was the rule rather than the exception. Sanity in many ways scared us we may have dreamed about having parents who could care for us but around such people we felt awkward and odd. normal day to day living was scary mainly because we had done so little of it. The absence of tension while being a nice vacation for prolonged periods of time just felt so weird. The fact we were comfortable with insanity drove a wedge between many fellow believers and us. We spoke with a certain authority. We carried more than a small hint of darkness in our eyes. At times we felt like the speaker in the song "Painted Black." We were at times harsh brutal about some innocent mistakes that others have made. We had tasted the consequences of sin the word bitter is a horrible understatement to describe the flavor. At times we lashed out too hard. Around others we felt awkward, as we could not participate in a conversation about things that never crossed our minds among Christians from functional families. At times it was clear that 2 different languages were being spoken and neither group understood each other. There was a pathetically small number or attempts to bridge the gap. The TAMs freaks and I were an untapped resource and source of wisdom within the college group. Some of the fear felt towards us was justified some of it wasn't. We finished off the coffee and headed outside.

Rob a red haired bespeckled figure was walking up the street we acknowledged his presence with a friendly hello. He returned the courtesy visibly distressed about our presence. He was a drug dealer and Satanist making us about as welcome as a severe migraine. We were on his turf for a purpose. All 3 of us knew that and he hated it. My presence there might have even represented to him a failure on his part: a failure to destroy me my sophomore year. That though was history by now.

Claire and I crossed Avenue A going up Fry where it intersected with Avenue A. The sky was dark with a faint orange hue as the metroplex blotted out any hope of seeing starlight. It was also the summer time steam bath. We walked to the stoop in front of the Flying Tomato. The air was thick and humid as the odors of cigarettes,joints and assorted bottles of beer,Jack Daniels and Southern Comfort mingled stuck there hanging in the windless night. We were the generation of aborted,day care drop-offs,divorced,neglected and staring a mountain of debt. Some of us had found truth and hope. Others were pissed as hell and trying to numb the pain by whatever means possible. Kurt Cobain in his supernova of power expressed this and the raw anger and confusion of Pearl Jam and Nirvana said what was on hour hearts. The Gin Blossoms caught the weariness and desire for hope. REM hinted at it with their song "Losing My Religion" and Cobain screamed it. In that mix I felt something that I was hard pressed to find elsewhere in the DFW metro area community. It was sinful but it was real no one pretended to be anything other then what they were. There was a unity there. Claire and I were there to offer hope to the hopeless and in the end we would wind up playing tug a war with a friend as rope as an acquaintance was on the other end. We also so Tevin there another rope that would be tugged on. Tevin had a caustic wit he had been sexually abused as a child I knew him through his sister. We were trying to keep him away from Rob and sure with him the ultimate hope. The hope was simply there was truth and that truth was precious. We came into the Flying Tomato had some more coffee and talked some more. It was time to call it night and I drove her home we had an over the shoulder hug and at 2:00 called it a night.