Scorpio and I were at the Fox theater awaiting the arrival of his brother, Roy, for amateur boxing known as Fight Night, where bamboozled and drunken matches provided medieval hi-jinx and brutality...So good, in fact, even burly and athletic women got in the ring for the three rounds of four minutes each...and not to mention the local Bustop Club strippers bearing the big numbered cards between rounds. Outside Scorpio and I waited while drinking tall Sapporo beers and enjoying the twilight perfect Boulder temperature and light like sugar nickels dancing in your pockets...around us the dirty and happy vagrant kids let their pit bulls fight while on their leashes while all laughing their idiot laughs...”the Hill” was full of all kinds of degenerates, and it had always been the wrecking ground for the college... Tulagi’s had been there since the forties, a 9-live drunk tank which had changed owners and decors each decade, if not more... this place I was standing with Scorpio had seen all of it for Boulder had always been a liberal and spiritual place, and I don’t mean in the soft lefty kind of way because it has a natural spirit outside of human moral compass and there were energies converging in Boulder in the early nineties, a kind of coming together of the TROPICS and A Season in Hell...But it was, for the moment, inarguably, our home town and a typical summer night full of sex and bebidos...
From the corner of an eye I make Kelly and her old man sauntering to the door...she was dating some 42 year old bum but Scorpio had told me it was rocks at best... she abashedly said her hello to the two of us and made her way inside...I told Scorpio that I thought she might have eyes for me and he chuckled...and Scorpio could chuckle...We stayed out there for another ten minutes and to my surprise out comes Kelly from the sweaty hill crowd and up to me for a more highly ritualized greeting, making fun of my sandals, which she called man-sandals, described as women’s sandals worn by men...black leather like the kind worn by Frank Lloyd Wright with his suits--and his influence was Asia, where men have been wearing sandals for a hell of a long time. And Kelly stayed for a while out in that peachy tremble light and I knew then that she was interested, and I laughed with her about my penchant for Asian leather architect’s shoes...and continued to be awed by her unbelievable sexy voice, Audrey Hepburn eyes, and floating pheromones of promiscuity...
-Michael Price
