#72, Matthew V.

Matthew. My sister and i fondly referred to you as "the gay white aborigine". You worked at the art store, and smelled like patchouli and the strong smoke of smudged sage. You were tallish, and way skinny, and seemed to acquire an extra few pounds just from all of the metal accessories you wore, which clanked in announcement of your arrival before you even got near anyone. You wore jean jackets or vests, with tattered band shirts, and always boots. Your long, dark, wiry beard was the subject of much wonder. i had never seen anyone with the kind of tattoos that you had: green, swampy, spirally art covered much of your exposed flesh. You wore horn in your ears and bone in your nose, and the inside of your van was covered with feathers and animal skulls. Originally from Louisiana, you had become a vegan while living in the Bay Area but still sometimes secretly snacked on the fried pork skins your mom would send you. Wherever you were to be found, there was always Jack Daniels and death metal. Once i was coming back from a bank run and saw you leaning casually against the front wall of the store, eating a mango.
want some? you asked me, and sliced off a piece with your buck knife. We stood there, and ate, smiling in the sun, delicious yellow juice dripping from our fingers. i miss you, man!

#65, Ahi(msa)

Ahi! We worked together at Amsterdam Art. You were a cashier, and the most hippied-out girl i had ever met. You were so freakin' adorable; you made your own clothes, and had the saddest eyes but were always, always smiling. Long straight brown hair, not a trace of make-up. We used to argue over the band Air: i couldn't see why anyone would listen to such boring music. You thought i was completely off my rocker. It was hilarious. (i have since seen the light, by the way.)
Eventually, i heard, you had a lovely little daughter. i hope life is treating you well, and that you are still smiling and walking around in cute, baggy, hemp pants.

#34 and #35, Scott and Jess.

I have to put these two in here together, because i knew them both much better as a couple than i did either of them separately.
They had decided to pack some things into your station wagon and leave Illinois for sunny California one day. They both applied at the art store where i worked, and were both hired- Jess in Fine Arts and Scott in the Paper Dept. Jess, 17, was small, with crooked teeth, short hair, and a serious drawl. Super adorable, you might say. She moved around everywhere sort of slowly and smiled a lot, unabashedly. Scott was much older, in his early thirties, and even though he was balding and shaved his head we were all so shocked to hear his age. He just seemed so... young! He also smiled a lot, but in a much more nervous way. He collected robot toys, and enjoyed talking to me about '80s music and old Dr. Who episodes. They both loved Belle and Sebastian, and tried non-stop to coax me over to that side of things. But i was always yawning when i heard the music, so it never worked out. They made Nat and i a mix before they left town, which is still one of my all-time favorites. Selected tracks include "Weird Day" by Sifl and Olly, "Superstar" (a Carpenters cover) by Sonic Youth, and "19-2000" by the Gorillaz. It was called Scott and Jess's Summer Mix '01. God, just saying that makes me want to cry. Those were good times.

#33, Danny G.

Danny. You made amazing woodblock art! I was so envious of your skills. Last time i saw you, it was New Year's Eve, and my mom took a bunch of people (you, me, nat, my sis, my bro) out to dinner (Indian food) and then to a movie (Lord of the Rings). Afterwards we dropped Nat off at work, and my brother and my mom went home. The 3 of us remaining went to a warehouse party to ring in the new year. Shortly before midnight, you confessed to me that you were "in love" with my sister (whoa!), and ran off to find her so that you could kiss her when twelve o'clock arrived. i didn't know what to do, but i was sure that you would get your heart broken (Danny, you were way too "safe" for her). i rushed around trying to find her before you did, and spied her drunkenly making out with an old friend of hers (big mistake), lying on the sidewalk behind someone's truck. Later you moved to SoCal somewhere, and i heard you were having art shows. Good luck with everything! i hope we meet again someday.

#32, Janice.

When i first met Janice, i was struck by one thing: her eyebrows. Well, that and her salacious metal-band tank tops and painted-on jeans. She was quite a sexy thing, very bold and outspoken, face almost always scowling for no reason. She lived in a rock 'n roll pad with Jackie, and one day they introduced me to the woman behind Janice's inspiration for her eyebrows: Nina Hagen. Ah, a whole new world! Janice once told me about reverse-rollerskating to Billy Squier's "Stroke" at a roller rink when she was younger, a story that remains fresh in my mind today. She was always having problems with her contact lenses, and did way too many stimulants. She constantly drooled over long-haired Hessian metal boys. Last i heard, Janice was finally married to one of those boys, with a child, and one more on the way! Hope you're happy, Janice, wherever you are.

#31, Jackie.

Jax! You were a rocker chick that came to work at Amsterdam Art. Long, wavy hair and Betty Page bangs, you were perpetually stoned and loved PJ Harvey possibly more than i did. i adored you! Your house (which you shared with best friend Janice) was a treasure trove of album covers, candles, fairy lights, death metal objects, and other pretty things. It was always so comfortable there. You would ply me with whiskey and beer. You wore flannels a lot, over thermal shirts, and had a very quiet, almost mumbling way of speaking that was quite endearing. Then you went to Scotland for a year. We picked you up at the airport in Matthew's van, and you solemnly pressed a tape of QueenAdreena into my hand, telling me that i "must listen". Thank you, dearly, for that.

#30, Matthew.

We fondly called you the "Gay White Aborigine". You had amazing earlobe stretchers, lots of beautiful tribal tattoos and facial hair worthy of a mountain man. You were skinny, and wore jeans, boots, and old Neurosis shirts with the sleeves cut off. And sometimes vests. You were vegan, but admitted to munching on pork rinds when your mom would send them to you from home in Louisiana. You openly stated that you couldn't stand glitter, but always made the exception for me, even letting me into your van (which usually contained: Neurosis in the tape deck, hand-beaded bone and feather necklaces hanging from the rearview mirror, and the strong smell of sage and patchouli) to drive me home on numerous occasions. Once, we ate a mango together outside the building, cut with your pocket knife. A highly-treasured item with super-secret status that floated around the art store was a picture of you, at seventeen or so, with long hair and no facial hair, grinning broadly into the sun ("No way, that's not Matthew!"). You were always drinking whiskey and inviting us to bonfires out on the beach in San Francisco. Last i heard you moved back to Louisiana. Hope you weathered the hurricane(s) alright. Miss you, Matthew.

#29, Jonas.

Jonas, you sat at the register across the aisle from me, and would sit and stare all day long. I wasn't sure if it was me, or just that you actually had a staring problem, but eventually you asked me out on a date. No one had ever really done that before, and i was very nervous. I wasn't even sure if i liked you but i was too nice to say no, and you were such a sweetheart... we went to see Princess Mononoke at the UC Theater (back when it was still there), and barely talked the whole time. We took the bus home in the rain, and when my stop came you stood up and we had a very awkward goodbye, trying not to fall over and trying to decide if we should kiss or not, juggling umbrellas and left-over popcorn. Ha, ha. :) We didn't go out again after that, and you moved away shortly thereafter, to go to art school. You always wore Mouse On Mars T-shirts, and later told me that i was the spitting image of your ex-girlfriend, who was also named Heather. Weird!

#28, Mike Neal.

Mike Neal! Nobody could call you by just your first name. You worked in Fine Arts, and were probably one of the best artists we ever had working there. Cowboy boots and a far-fetched anecdote were your two main characteristics. We found out later you had epilepsy, because you had a seizure at work one day. I always enjoyed your (Texas?) drawl, and your surreal wood-panel paintings. Always a pleasure to see you at parties, my friend. Hope there will be a next time.

#27, Disco Dave.

Dave, you worked in the outlet warehouse when i first started working at Amsterdam. I had a major crush on you, but you never even looked at me once; always seemed to have your head in a book, or comic. You were a photographer, which i admired, and when i complimented a photo hanging on the wall behind your head you actually gave it to me! Would you believe that i still have that photo? It is darkly exposed, with a lilypad and dewdrops. Just lovely. Once, you were playing a CD that i thought might have been Concrete Blonde. It turned out to be "Cross Bones Style" by Cat Power, off of their album Moon Pix. Without looking up from your book, you told me to go ahead and take it, as you had found it lying face-down on the floor under a shelf in the warehouse a few days before. Take it i did, and a new love was born.

#26, Bryan.

Bryan worked in the framing dept. at Amsterdam Art. He was very large, wore tie-dye shirts and loose pants, and always had a painted-on orange dot between his eyes. It was his third eye. He smelled like patchouli and kept a picture of the Hug Lady on his register when he was still a cashier. Bryan was an extremely soothing presence, wherever he was. When my cat had kittens, we ended up giving him the middle kitten, a girl, who had long grey hair. She was my favorite and i was sad to see her go, but giving it to Bryan was the best option i could have wanted. He named her "Durga", after the Hindu goddess. Bryan, i miss your bear hugs!

#25, Blas.

Blas. Blas Espino. I had a gigantic crush on you during the first few months i knew you. We worked in the same room in the back of the art store. You were short, but strikingly handsome, and the only problem was, you sort of knew it. We flirted a lot, innocently, over the years. You had a penchant for sketching, and introduced me to Egon Schiele (thank you). Hope you are successful now; you definitely deserve to be with all that talent. One of my best friends also knew you and adored you back in those days; we only recently discovered this. Heartbreaker!

#24, Ronnie.

Aw, Ronnie. It breaks my heart to think of you! You had a crush on me when we worked together at the art store. When they introduced the "employee wall", and you put your painting up, i couldn't believe how good it was. You had a bird-like face, and a long, blonde ponytail. You were sort of a stoner hippy, always wearing corduroys, and such a sweetheart. You wrote me the first (and only?) love note i ever got, even though it was more of a tortured pouring out of your heart after i told you i couldn't go out with you. I was in a self-hating time in my life, to the extreme, and i just couldn't believe that anyone could or would ever seriously like me (i'd been burned a lot in the past). It was really hard to have to tell you that. Last i saw you, years ago, you'd bought a small drum machine and were moving to Oregon. I never paid you the sixty bucks for the painting, which i still have, until a few months ago when i looked you up online. It was nice to find you again, Ronnie. Hope life treats you well.

#23, Winthrop.

The receptionist for awhile at the art store. Winthrop reminded me of R. Crumb mixed with John Waters, but without any of the latter's smiles or sarcastic bent; he was extremely quiet and deadpan, which made his in-store announcements very interesting, and completely inaudible. Pretty funny, actually, that he worked there that long. He was ill, with something long-term, and was always eating soup from a box. Tomato, Butternut Squash, Cream of Broccoli. His diet was very specific. He used to pull on my ponytail, and it drove me nuts. Allison and i would sometimes call up the radio station and request "Owner of a Lonely Heart" and dedicate it to him, which was not very nice now that i think about it. It was really all in good fun. He was a pretty well-established cartoonist, i found out later, and the last time i saw him he was giving someone an acoustic guitar lesson in a park in Berkeley.

#22, Melody.

Melody, without you i never would have been introduced to Nat, and for that i forever thank you.

Melody was a girl i worked with at the art store. She had a French surname i can't remember. I had a huge crush on her- idolized her, even. She had almost a Clara Bow thing going' on: short, dark curly hair and smoky eyes. She was stoned a lot, and had a lot of really cool friends. She was always going out to a club at night, or having a rockin' party on the weekend. Everyone liked Melody, even the hip-hop guys up in the graphics department who would smoke weed with her in her van in the parking lot. Once she spent all afternoon at work listening to the radio to try and win Cure tickets. Nat adored her like a puppydog, but she had a long-time boyfriend, so one day she said to me, "You know, you should really meet my friend Nat, you guys have so much in common!" and the rest is history. I think we both miss her very much. She was in a band called "Bleak" for awhile, then moved to New Jersey with her new boyfriend Brock (who had spiky hair quite similar to Nat's!). Melody, where art thou?

#21, Smitty, the other Allison.

Wow. What can i say about her? Thin, blonde, straight hair. Small, girly face, but a raunchy attitude and a sly laugh to match. Always stirring up trouble. Liked hamsters, and Britney Spears. Also: reading true crime novels and listening to The Dwarves(link is not safe for work!). She was a hard girl to figure out. Once a friend of hers got into a fistfight, and ended up with a bloody nose. Allison painted a portrait of his haggard face on a Kleenex, with his own blood. The rust-colored result sat on a frame on her desk in the Ordering Department, until one day i confessed that i had to have it. She instead painted me a mock duplicate, using, alas, red and brown paint. I still have it, though.
Once we went to the Ivy Room (bar) for a long lunch hour. We drank rum and cokes? i think, and the waitress was ancient, the bottles dusty. She and i were one of the few people who went to work on the morning of September 11th, and only a sparse few customers wavered in and out of the store in a daze. We all had nothing to do, really, so she and i made a run to get everyone bagels, and drove around aimlessly for awhile smoking cigarettes first. We weren't even "friends", really, but it just seemed like the thing to do. Allison was alright.

#20, Allison.

You had red hair, a plump face, and a piercing off to the side between your nose and upper lip, which normally i can't stand but it fit you, somehow. You were hired after a trade show, during a brief period of success within Amsterdam Art. Marketing, or advertising, something like that. You called me "The Countess", because i was the gothy accountants receivable girl. I actually liked that nickname! You had a brassy, '50s vibe, and where the hell are you now? You were fun, girl.

#1, Travis.

Travis! You worked with me at Amsterdam Art. You wore candy necklaces and Strawberry Shortcake T-shirts that made my stomach butterflies flutter into each other blindly. You had lovely wide, sleepy blue eyes and perpetually messy dirty blonde hair. Your posture was bad, but it only made you cuter. You were always smiling. I had the biggest crush on you.
Then one day you were late coming back from lunch, and we found you outside, sitting on the sidewalk, leaning dreamily against the building in sweet slumber. The only thing was, it was raining. And you were on heroin.
They fired you that afternoon. The rain added extra sadness. Where are you now, Travis?