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| Brett Walker Brett is the unofficial benefactor of my life in Pasadena. I lived in his house. He got me a job. Sometimes he gives me rides in his big shiny automobile. He tried to save my soul by introducing me to the joy of donating platelets, but my lips grew numb and the bitch stabbed me like Manson and I got a bruise so I quit. I think he still goes and maybe even has a plaque up on the wall of the Red Cross. For all of these things and others less tangible I am eternally grateful. |
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| Brian A million billion chaotic events of the past have been combining, one might even say conspiring, to bring us all to the inevitable result: Brian Collins. You may not deny him; he is inevitable. Do you really think that 13.6 billion years of cosmic evolution would allow you to evade your destiny? |
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| Danny This charming fellow on the left is my brother Danny. Danny is an excellent musician, adept at both strumming and drumming. With a little face paint and diaphragm control he could have been a star performer. In Granada his guitar was in much demand at dinner parties and Plaza de los Pasiegos. But there's a lot more to this kid than just rhythm and melody: he cooks, he programs computers, and he speaks Spanish with a thick American accent. |
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| Dave Dave is a cool guy with a really bad web page. The bad web page mentions that he schooled at Caltech, where we first met as freshman. It also talks about idealab!, where he programs. I now program at idealab! too. He does math. He meticulously shaves his head every day. When his skin grows old and sags he will purchase thousands of dollars for plastic surgery to fulfill his lifelong dream of looking like David Hasselhoff. |
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| Dylan Here I am with Dylan. Note how happy we are together. Also note his camouflage pants, which are to Dylan as the martini is to James Bond. I appreciate Dylan's thoughts and aesthetic sense more than any human I have ever met. He lives in the garage. He wants to be a squirrel. He got a 1600 on his SAT's and he hates it when I tell people that. |
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| Gabe Beware the Gabe. He appears so mild-mannered, but beneath the buck teeth and stained overalls lies the soul of a madman with vast swarms of hungry insects at his command. A secret horseman of the Apocalyse is he. |
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| Gregori Young Matthew sat behind the barn with a magnifying lens. He grimaced and flinched. Pop! Pop! Dozens of pucker-faced growths, the sequel to Peggy Sue's unexpected birthday present, swole and blistered in the sun. His once tender pubescence was just a raw spot now. Pappy's deathbed warning heightened the continual misery. "Sonny", he said, "genital warts never go away." |
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| Mike Mike gets called Rammstein because he's more German than dark beer and schnitzel. Together we explored tiny Lizard Island near Australia's Great Barrier Reef before he entered grad school in astrophysics. Sometimes I ask him about binary black hole systems and he giggles like a little girl. Together with Portia (see below) he throws amazing parties at the top of a very steep hill. I fear that someday he'll become a respectable academic type, but so far that hasn't happened. |
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| Portia Portia is an elegant girl in black velvet to dazzle the cocktail crowd. She is a simple girl in overalls to weed the garden. And she is a giddy girl in pajamas drinking beer to snuggle by the fireplace. |
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| Sky Sky Milner is a living example of the American dream come true. He has been raised by circus folk on the barren slopes of Oahu in Hawaii, adored in Japan for his witty haiku and drunken babbling, and celebrated at Pasadena City College for his architectural masterpieces. Few men achieve in a lifetime what Sky has accomplished in 23 years. |
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