Jack says I am a conduit person. People are friends around and through me. I think that is an interesting thing to be told. I think Jack is a caretaker. He takes care of people in ways he'll not in all probability comprehend. Today Marina was wondering about friends. About friends sticking around and moving away. When we lived in our first house in Seattle, in the cul de sac at the bottom of the hill near the Calverts and the Vervynks and that family of football players, and Aaron Rimmer, across the street lived Tom, who, legend has it, smoked banana peels and oregano. Next door, or two doors down, was Amy. Her father wore turtle-necks, was gregarious, short and had a mustache and slicked-back hair. He would call me Big T. It took me a while to figure out what he meant by that. For the longest time I'd picture a big glass of iced tea. Amy had an older sister, close to one of my brother's age. One time I was playing over at Amy's and we dressed up and I put on make-up and a pair of her stocking or something like that. I don't remember exactly, but it was definitely girly, and it was definitely drag. Amy's older sister walked in on us looking in the mirror and gasped a hysterical sort of guffaw and I had one of the clearest early life moments I can recall. That flash of Adam and Eve Garden of Eden Apple of Info sort of moment. I ran home, two doors down, and hid in my room. I don't remember playing with Amy after that. Later on I'd go to high school with Amy, and I'd see her older sister quite often for one reason or another. I never became friends with Amy again. She was quiet, sometimes mousy. But she was very nice and every now and then I still wonder how she's doing.