I moved here from Montana about six months ago to maintain my art career as long as possible. I create three-dimensional compositions. One night I was here to see a rock show and the place was packed. I walked in and the next thing I knew a cue ball hit me in the back of the head and I fell to the ground. I was in shock on the floor; people were around me, looking to see if I was OK. I stood up and shook my head. I was kinda angry at that point, and I looked up and saw that I'd been hit by one of my ex-boyfriends from Montana. I hadn't seen him in three years. I was shocked. He was shocked too and kept saying it was accidental, "I'm so sorry, so sorry." Somebody had a beer in their hand, and I grabbed it and threw it in his face, and after a second I started laughing, and then he started laughing. He was a roadie for one of the bands playing that night; that's why he was in town. We hugged and I said, "It's good to see you again, that's the way to greet somebody after three years, nothing's changed." But actually it had--he had gained about 50 pounds and had lost all of his long hair! I was secretly delighted. We broke up because he was a lousy pool player, among other things.
--Amanda Browder, artist/lecturer