TRIDENT COUNTRY 51SibfOUQ" ’oXteO W do poop'* “ Lon S lu"M ” . Lx l-i rrewS0""3 ouiellys’" " * ” ana loiter* hom“ petty ™ W*91 submarma gather Bu91'° . u ,get.ng up >o ’* „„ies m‘»«n” missile shoe- 8 h nutM'XO'. hoI0 me g S ® .... ... loading me Jmck "^u“0 (Balcxe «• send Hrcarl to< locally prodepart. n* huys , Jmoiopy. "hie"19 ducedOa-noTrident.) (onrofiic/e ofa- (Rafe yf t nas been 11 years exact- ly . one decade plus one ... since I lost my virginity through rape within the first tew hours of a spring vacation in Baja, California. It haa been two years since a relationship that was straining to last forever, exploded after four years and died. He said It was because I actually hated him all along. Because I hated men. Because of Bale. I said, "Eek." strictly on vacation. Our political dedication was flimsy. r Suddenly something made me J"turn around away from the 2 CLINTON IT. «UA>T»LV That Grand]- wnd sound of Bettycarter«DexterCordon By Lynn Darroch They ate voraciously as Dean, sandwich in hand, stood bowed and jumping before the big phonograph, listening to a wild bop record I had just bought called "The Hunt," with Dexter Cordon and Wardell Cray blowing their tops before a screaming audience that gave the record fantastic frenzied volume... From the,land of the bossa nova BRAZIL MIRACLE ONTHEBRINK in DAVID MII.HOl I WD (visited Brazil for 6 weeks in May-June, 1977. Speaking little Portuguese, traveling very light, my wanderings took me through many regions and gave me an eyeful. Though I knew something of her history and had always dreamed of spending a Carnaval in Rio. nothing had really prepared me for what I was to see. Everywhere I went, from the smog-bound megalopolis of Sao Paulo to the most distant reaches of the Amazon Basin, things were on the move. My entree was a bus ride from the Paraguay border to the coast, some 600 miles, a stretch I'd always understood to be largely unsettled. Our ultra-modern bus, driven whenever possible at breakneck speed, passed literally hundreds of farm-to-market vehicles, and the raw red soil of newly broken land stretched to the horizon in every direction. LIVES OF THE Offis Aseemingly endless land with untapped resources and miraculous opportunities has always beckoned the adventurous to Brazil ... As here, only a few "ignorant savages" stood in the way. sparkling within this Mexican sunset. There was a movement in the brush behind us. I saw two male figures wearing full-face black masks, walking over the small hills. They were screaming, Viva Zapata1" I saw a longbarreled title and a golden-and- ruby-jewelled sabre They pointed theTr weapons at us lying prostrate and screamed, "Don't Barn! There was a major movement in my mind. Everything changed. Instantaneous terror I was jacked nghrinto high speed first person I met as a college stu- dent was a depressive. She coped with the perplexing Independence of lite away from home by wallowing. And even though I don't think I even knew what depression was . . smalltowns rarely acknowledge psychology ... I copied her. And my confusion, henceforth, had a name. Comely coedness hadn't tit Radical polltlcallty hadn't fit. But gloom. Gloom was easy. We hated . and we made fun. It lit well. So, the three of us werq off the shy ones . . going south of the border in our borrowed van those weapons The terror. My body immediately began convulsing .. subtly Incessantly. My body grabbed the terror and housed It, leaving my mind comparatively free to devise plans . lor my survival. And my mind j searched efficiently like a supercharged. finely tuned motor And this search pulled my life more tightly by far than anyone or anything ever has ... for four hours The two teenage bandidos bound, gagged, and blindfolded spoken, and extremely active friend whom I had lured through my darkness and sparks. She was yellow ... sun-yellow ... and she shone. But Carol was somehow pitless. like the part of California from which she hailed ... the southern section . . no clouds and no shading. John was little, warm, and wonderful. John was one of the empathetic souls atrocities may simply be too large for the human imagination to grasp, but having lived one, I've got to try. So here I grasp ... wlth our borrowed tape deck. ; the back of the van. Thev drove King Crimson tapes, ice chest 1 off, stopping 20minutes later, at a tilled with sugared and sugar-free ' house. One went in. then came sodas, marijuana well hidden, ! out. We drove on. know Is that ter Clinton St. Quarterly QUEEN ELIZABETH DROPS BY THE Q.P. FOR A CUP OF HOT JAVA One year ego I became infatuated with a member of the highly disciplined literary Intelligentsia. He was utterly convinced that the only way to keep wild, let alone terrorized, psyches intact was through cathartic writing. "Write about Baja!" he Implored. "Only then shall you be thought: Why Is he talking to me? Old I havea terrorized psyche? Nine months Ago I began writing about my night In Ba|a. Perhaps the 10that had controlled my life for tour hours more completely by tar than anyone or anything ever has ... the terror that was instantaneously stuffed Into an IGNORE FOR NOW file in blockino system of my brain ... perhaps that terror was actually powering the movement of the that terror had organically matured and already been quietly released. Or perhaps that terror still sits within . rotted and t was spring break from college, 1971. Carol, John, and I were going off this year . south of the border .. down Mexico Way. I'd known Carol since the first week of school, two and a half years before, and we'd both known John for a year and a halt. Carol was a pale, softwhose hearts live as strongly for friends as for self. Perhaps more so. which may have been the cause of his loneliness. His heart overwhelmed you. His warmth intimidated you. And his stomach walked the thin edge just this side of despair. Then there was me. Nineteen years old. smalltown, and starv- Ing for .something bigger, smarter, and not so damn flat. I had tasted my first bit of sophistication at a great western university. and it had moved me .. right into chaotic confusion. The bunson burners, car-sick pills. .. We left late In the afternoon from Carol's mothers house In San Olego. We crossed the border with no trouble and drove about 60 miles Into Bajabeforedeciding to stop tor the night on a small beach. Darkness was approaching. We pulled In, turned on the cassette deck, laid out our sleeping bags, smoked a |olnl, started a small fire, and relaxed, watching the waves fluoresce, turning shades of red as the hot sun set. The pitiful ramshackle poverty we had passed was but a fleeting wound. It was ugly, but we were We soon stopped again. Somewhere. A dark stretch of beach. They took oft our gags and blindfolds. One hustled John away. The other got out our sleeping bags and set up two camps. John was gone. I heard Spanish chatter. I heard John angry and pleading. Stop II. Stop It. you motherfuckers. Just slop It. John. John. I was with John. I knew they were taking him off to his death. I thought I heard gunshots. I thought they got John. I couldn't believe It. My mind swltchetfTnto a higher gear, and my body switched into a more convulsive
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