We’re kicking off Giving Tuesday early this year! Your donation today will be matched up to $10K, doubling your impact! If you donate $50 today, the Reader will receive $100.
The Reader is now a community-funded nonprofit newsroom. Can we count on your support to help keep us publishing?
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