Strange Case
By Joy Lynn Clark
09/06/2025
In spring of 2019 soon after the rains, I decided to lease a studio in the Mellwood Arts Building in Louisville. The space was very industrial and home to several arts groups. My studio was nestled between a dance, pottery, and wax studios (candlemaking). I saw the potters assistant (I guess, she said something like “in training” or something like that. I never met the candle maker but, I saw those dancers all the time at first. I ended up deciding to work the graveyard shift after my foul debut singing, “Prostitute” at the very top of my lungs. “Oops” I think to myself as the ballerinas head out of the building with their tutus in hand and their hair in buns.
At first my little brother and I would spend time shopping (mostly thrifting) for furniture to outfit my space. I found a nice desk, chair, and even a table for my coffee pot and big screen. One day I will get some curtains however, I had taped newspaper in the windows which was kind of rachitt but, I had some privacy. Back in the day, I would have chosen the comic section for sure but, my little brother likes those too. I also spent some time in the local musician shop where I bought a new soundcard, microphone and a new (same) keyboard. I’ve been using the same keyboard for nearly 15 years and I replace it regularly.
Finally, I got this space to where I can actually do something in it. It is 11 pm and it is a nice night. I feel pretty fresh with dads old car because of heated seats and wicked ass tires and rims. My first ride that’s fully loaded, I love it. I get out of my car and hit the lock button on the key, “beep beep”. I walk across the courtyard, “what a cool building, “ I think to myself. I let myself into my space and plug in my laptop. I chuckle to myself as I muse about my singing session. I hope that I didn’t scar those young ladies permanently. So I put on my headphones and began engineering the song. After and hour or two I decided to render a copy to CD. “I’ll be your prostitute . . . If I can’t collect then you gon get wet”, I’ve got to go try this in the ride.
As I start the engine the radio automatically comes on. “La Da Dee, La Dee Da . . . “ the radio announcer says, “Next week dance star Crystal Waters will be here in Louisville”. “Sweet” I think to myself, “Maybe I can try and get tickets”. Crystal Waters is one of my favorite dance stars and I haven’t done a thing social since I have been here. So I listen to the entire radio commercial and jot down the information.
After the commercial concludes I press the play button on my test CD. Not bad, the vocals aren’t quite loud enough though. I jump back out of the car, hit the alarm “beep beep” and quickly walk back across the courtyard and up the stairs to my studio. Once I got inside of my studio I started increasing the volume and monitoring the playback. “Great” I thought to myself, as I made another pot of coffee while the track was rendering.
As I walked down the hallway it’s nearly 2 am and I see a young lady with long raggedy looking hair hanging out of the sides of a zipped up hoodie. However, she walks in the other direction and secretly I hope that this woman isn’t going to be any trouble. On the other hand, I am not used to seeing people in the building around this time.
I get back into my space, start another pot of coffee and continue engineering the song. It is almost morning and I am starting to go, “music deaf”. Music deaf is when you’ve heard the same song so many times that you can no longer hear the changes. “I’m done” I think to myself, “I will have to come back with a fresh ear tomorrow.” I grab my empty coffee pot and mug and give it one final wash before I lock up.
The days turn into weeks and I also migrate the site from Magneto to WordPress. Some of my technology friends had a lot of misgivings about my new choice of platform but I really do love the way that Wordress formats text for online journaling. Some of my friends are old hands at the wordpress platform and I figure they will be a good resource should I have questions. However, since I did things this way I will not be having an “easy, automated migration”. I will have to do this page for page, article, photo, song. I will also have to change the name from Chicago Genius since I am now in Louisville. I have been trying to decide on the new URL. I decide to go with Daisy Friday spelled correctly. I have the Dazee Dizzle URL but I want Louisville to be able to find it easy. I am still not sure about this thinking but I am still showing flowers around Dazee Dizzle. I have been hammering at this migration and trying to get a couple of songs in too. I made this cool little “thumper track” that is reminiscent of some old Chicago house music. I begin remixing, “Oppression Quotes” and redo the rap vocal. It is freezing and I am zipping up my coat and putting my space heater near my cold feet.
As I enter the women’s washroom I see the wandering lady washing up in the sink. I am not feeling anything about her right now. “I just needed a quick ho bath” the wandering lady says. “Ho bath?” I am a little nervous because this chick looks like some vagrant or indigent of some kind. This is the first time that I have gotten a good look at this woman. I have seen her wandering the halls regularly so I decide to introduce myself and find out if she is actually a tenant or not. “I’ve got a studio down the hall . . .” I mutter, “ . . . and you” I question. “Well I’m Crysta Watterson” she replies and then winks. Yeah like, “la da dee” I think to myself. This chick does look like an adult albeit very young. I hope she’s not one of those people that doesn’t live with a song like, “Kill Yourself” or “Beautiful Girls”. No mention of a studio either. I hope this young lady doesn’t force me to report her to the building.
The spring comes in with a bang as the river rises and Louisville starts to liven up. As Derby approaches I struggle to format any text. The same evening after the Oakes, I see Crysta Watterson with a guy in the hallway. The two are pressed up against the windows and I really hope that she isn’t hanging around here turning tricks. Maybe ol’ girl is on the stroll too. Justified takes it all.
It is now June and I travel the deep south for the next couple of months. I wrote, “Sun Gone” and “I’m a Mother” on the road. After we return the studio is burglarized, we move to Lexington, and I take a new studio unit on another floor.
As I am settling into my new apartment in Lexington I turn on the news, “Family searches for missing Louisville woman” the news anchor announces. A photograph flashes, “OMG that’s Crysta Watterson!” I practically scream at the tv. The news story ends and I did not get a good enough look at the missing woman’s face. I look over at my brother, “What do I do? Is there a tip line?”. I immediately look up the network’s site and see if there is any more information about the missing Louisville woman.
Since I was recently the victim of a burglary I am still nervous about leaving things around the studio. I literally take and bring my gear every time and the studio is now over and hour’s drive away. In addition, I have to bring my gear in through the loading dock. I am exhausted and I don’t have the energy to do this on a regular basis. On top of that, the owners have made some nice upgrades. We have heat now and I can hear it rattling through the airducts. I start to wonder about whatever happened to Crysta Watterson and I am thinking about mentioning it to the police officer that was assigned to my robbery case. I really wish Louisville had an anonymous tip line or something.
Back home in Lexington I catch another story about the, “Missing Louisville Woman” and this time the headline was, “Family searches for the body of the Missing Louisville Woman”. I really hope that the woman wasn’t murdered. I start to wonder if Crysta Watterson was murdered by gunshot or accidental overdose (which is what I thought because I figured that Crysta Watterson was a meth addict at first). She was an indigent but I can’t see who would want to murder her in cold blood. Is it considered a suicide if you have an accidental overdose? This is more likely what I would imagine Crysta Watterson would have done if she were the Missing Louisville Woman whose body is yet to be found. Or maybe I am way too cynical, perhaps she lives and got sober. Maybe she isn’t the Missing Louisville woman at all.
