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When I was in college at Berkeley, there used to be this woman who sold knit caps. She usually wore a hard hat that said "I love Brad Pitt" and danced to music that wasn't there. Isla reminds me of her, sometimes - mostly when she chooses her own outfits that consist of rainbow pants, a flower purse, a hobo beanie, and moon boots. I wish I could bottle that awesome sometimes and sprinkle it on every indie scenester I pass wearing skinny jeans, slip on vans, and a too-short-sleeved jacket. Then they'd hightail it to the nearest TJ Maxx and go nuts. (I seriously can't believe that TJ Maxx is the first store I thought of. I don't think I've ever even seen one).

Steven King

Have you ever read "It"?

This picture freaks me out.
I imagine a half-rotten clown monster down below offering her balloons... Isla can't really understand what the creature is garbling about, so she leans in closer... "choo?" she asks, which could mean any variety of things - from shoes to juice to poop...




No answer....

she gets even closer.

"hey..." the clown monster thing sneers.

"bop bop?" she counters, full of youthful innocence and braggadocio.

Beneath the grate, the beast scowls in contempt. "Come down here! I've got balloons for you..."


Smelling a ruse, Isla balks. "Baoon?"

At this instant - she realizes her mistake - those aren't real balloons - that's a murderous clown down there, not some new plaything!

Even now, she cringes as she recounts her harrowing encounter: