A most amusing morning at work. Three distinguished looking people visit from a New York college to view the archive of P.D. They were all dressed in formal blacks & greys. Leading them was a man considered to be the world's foremost expert on PD, at least that's what he kept saying about himself. He also often remarked on how excitingly "visceral" he found the experience of viewing the papers to be. Later found myself sitting at the roundtable beside a beautiful young blonde woman in high black boots. She works in the college's Special Collections Department. She looks a little like Nico and speaks with a heavy Brooklynese accent ala Bugs Bunny. We are rifling through a folder containing various unpublished typescripts - stories that are often hilariously pornographic and very very un-politically correct. Much of it could leave Bukowski blushing, but this is serious work and professionalism takes precedence despite the most piquant subject matter. With only a hint of smile, she places a page down in front of me and casually points out a line. I read what appears to be a colorful description of a woman's pubic region where comparisons are made to "Gene Shalit's crazy afro" and a bucket of eels. Most of the morning is spent with her wading through the filth-ridden prose. At the end of the meeting, in a thinly professional tone, she asks for my card. She gets instead a light blue post-it with my pencil-scrawled email address.