During my first year at Murray State, our equipment manager hung himself in the equipment room, deep in the sweaty bowels of the football stadium. One of the trainers found him in the morning, naked with a beet-red penis. Later that year I became friends with a cheerleader who was in two of my English classes. She was the only cheerleader I’ve ever been friends with. Right before Spring Break, she left a scribbled note in my locker saying, “Help! Daughaday’s class is kicking my butt!” Over Spring Break, on the way to the national cheerleading competition, the left rear tire on the team van blew out. The van flipped five to seven times, throwing half the team and rolling over my cheerleading friend’s head. I’ve come to think that these deaths are thematically related, but I still haven’t figured out how.
Just added to The List and the Story: Out of the Nineties