A Girl in Pittsburgh

Met a beautiful dark-skinned girl at the library and bought her a hot dog for lunch. She’s a native Pittsburgher but doesn’t know much about her city. In fact, she seemed to have an especially weak mind for detail and accuracy of every kind. She wasn’t sure if she lived in the small triangle between the two rivers or on the south side of them.

But she had some interesting notions and a promising tilt towards the unconventional and reflective. And a beautifully formed, small, smooth dark face, and nice proportions, and an unpretentious friendliness. She showed interest in me, wanted to know about my life in Missouri and the novel I’m writing. Said if she died without writing a book she’ll go kicking and screaming all the way up to the pearly gates.

When I asked her to see a movie with me, she said, “I was afraid of that. I’m already spoken for. He’s 160 pounds of jealousy. It isn’t much, but that’s what he is.”

Then she tried to edit her comment like she’d several other times. “I referred to him as an it, but that’s because…”—the end of her sentence got lost in the wind. But it was surely just more nonsense, charming but confused. She is, in fact, a very cute girl who is very confused, or at least confusing. Her thoughts don’t follow a straight line. They’re more like random dots on a plane. She seems aware of this and a little self-conscious about it. ~ Journal, Oct. 2, 1986