Mintyzilla!!!

2003-01-13T12:57:00.000-05:00

I'm very tired. I don't sleep much any more. Not lately.

There are two kinds of people in the world: people who divide the world into two camps, and all the rest of you losers.

No, really, what I want to say is there are people who want to be involved in Big Things, who want to get elected mayor, or find cures for cancer, or fight crime on the mean streets of Gotham. And then there are people like me. Who want to grab a few quick moments of joy in between naps and work and all the crap life throws at you.

Which is to say, I've gotten one of those legendary "leads the police won't touch" about some of the stuff that I've written about here, and I'm torn between dropping it all (like some other involved parties) or doing something out of character for me and playing the part of vigilante detective. Because some people out there know something. ("character" - "part" - does the drama club still show or what?)

All I have to do is find someone and ask some questions.

------

In other news, I've taken down the woodcut. Someone had been drawing things on it (house guests? mysterious non-thieving burglars? psycho ex-boyfriends?) and it was freaking me out. Besides which, bugs had started eating away at a food stain or something on it - leaving trails of eaten-away-space like cross-country ski tracks on snow. Officially, the only reminder of the whole thing is my nagging conscience and a folder Stephen dropped off at my apartment. I could just file it away, along with my grad school applications and a ream of old dress designs.

----

In other other news, North Korea may well blow up the entire world. Happy 2003, Planet Earth! Hope you like fireworks!!

2002-12-30T11:55:00.000-05:00

I just saw Stephen die again today.

This hysterical shit just about ruined my Christmas. This time, he was climbing on an awning over a bodega-style grocery in Brooklyn. I was sure it was him - I waved, he looked at me, then fell backwards down the below-the-sidewalk stairwell. CLANG! Crunch.

Christmas in New York. Gifts were given and received, and I'm walking through it like a zombie. I'm starting to feel like the city hates me. The cities, I should say.

Once again, I ran over, and once again, nobody there, and nobody knew what I was talking about, why I was freaking out on the sidewalk.

I emailed him that evening, and he responded the next day, still in Boston, still alive, and really wired about this packet of information he has for me - his "findings", all scanned and put on a CD.

I wonder if the crazies are contagious?

CLANG!Crunch. Almost like a cartoon. I can almost laugh about it, now. What is going on with me? This can't be normal, can it?

2002-12-16T17:36:00.000-05:00

I might as well just give in and retitle this blog "Miseryzilla."

I just saw Stephen during lunch break today. At least I think it was him. He got hit by a car.

I swear, I'm not making this up. Jeremy thinks I'm making it up. I'm not. I'm freaked out.

I ran over to see if I could help, but the guy (Stephen?) must've just gotten up and ran away or something, because there was just this mark by the curb where he landed.

I'd just seen him over the weekend, too. He's not looking so good - taking the whole Sheila thing way too much to heart, not bathing or sleeping any more from the looks of it. And he's obsessed with finding Arthur. Everything is finding Arthur. He says Arthur wasn't on good terms with his dad and stepmom, or at least wasn't too close to them, and they haven't heard from him in months. His mom was out of the picture, either dead or just ran away, he never said which. (This also makes me sad, on top of everything else, which is a sure sign that I'm getting soft in the head.)

Anyway, Stephen's been turning into a ninja (his exact words) for Arthur, calling his family for clues and (creepy part) stalking his spooky "group" buddies. Now, the Stephen I know has always been crazy in a fun sort of way, like, "Hey, who wants to bet me I can't finish this entire bottle of Capt. Morgan's?" The crazy he seems to be now, though, is not as fun. While we were talking, he said stuff like, "I know things the cops don't know about Phil," but when I told him to talk to the police, he started getting all... there's no other word for it... shifty. He didn't actually come out and say, "They're part of the problem, can't you see?" but I got the distinct feeling that's just what he was thinking. Which is, quite frankly, scary.

It reminds me of John Trotsky, who I sort of knew at school. He was a very shy political science major, tall, kind of heavy, with a sweet face and soft voice. Junior year, he went off to an exchange program in Italy, and something happened there. It may have been a misunderstanding with the police, it may have been too many magic mushrooms, or an accident with an electrical shock, or a combination of all three. But when he got back, he spent all his student loan money hiring a lawyer. He was suing the FBI. For everything they'd done to him, you know. He was on to them, no matter what tactics they were using to break his will, he was gonna make the bastards pay for what they did.

The last time I saw John, I could barely recognize him. He'd lost one of his front teeth and was evidently eating something like twice a week, and he stank of gasoline. And he'd run out of money for the lawyer. And his sentences all ran together and changed course midway, so he'd be talking about an episode of Star Trek and it'd run into his "stable of prostitutes" and then how he'd picked out this farmland and was drawing up plans for the house he was building -- once the settlement money came through. It was sad, it was scary, and I so don't want that to happen to anyone I know.

I'm supposed to see Stephen on Saturday. Maybe I'll try to talk him into seeing a counselor or someone. I really hope that was just some well-dressed homeless guy or some lawyer or something I saw today. And not Stephen.

2002-12-09T10:42:00.000-05:00

Oh, and this is just beautiful. Really makes my whole day seem so much better. Puts *my* problems RIGHT into perspective.

I'll just cheer up with some uplifting literature.

2002-12-09T10:31:00.000-05:00

I'm tired. It's cold outside, it's freezing in here, and I'm feeling stiff and sore all over.

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.

I'm tired of talking to cops, of thinking about cops, of coming home at night and turning on the news as if it's some horror movie that I'm a part of, waiting for the supporting player to finally turn up dead. I'm tired of secrets and mysteries. I'm even getting tired of Clark Kent - I shouldn't write that, because he probably reads this thing, but still. No more fights. No more fights.

Maybe it's this: I tried to go Christmas shopping over the weekend, and in the second store I went into, (Garment District in Cambridge) I found this perfect Hawaiian shirt with a butterfly print on it. Perfect. If he was still... here. And yes, crying over other boys isn't the way to keep your relationship going, but still, it's not like he and I were even going out.

Maybe that's why Clark's been drawing shit on the woodcut - adding branches to the tree while I'm not looking. And then gets an attack of the Not Me ghost. Childish. Depressing.

And that cop... the Mole Rat. He freaks me out. I saw him outside my job the other day as I was heading out to lunch. He seemed underdressed for the weather. Thin. Tired. Achy. Like me. Maybe I'm coming down with something.

2002-11-27T02:05:00.000-05:00

I don't even know if it's worth it to type this in - my entry from last Thursday isn't up, and it's Wednesday already. I may have to move my blog somewhere else if I want you, dear reader, to know what's going on...

The police have assigned a detective to Arthur's disappearance. No more society plumbers, we have the specialist on the job now. He was a little brusque, a little tightly wound, but efficient. Asked all sorts of questions about Phil, had already seen Arthur's blog... Somehow I don't feel as confident as I did after the first police interview. Maybe it's that he seemed nosy about my apartment, whether or not I'd had problems with bugs; or maybe it's that he reminded me of a
naked mole rat. Don't know why - he's not bald, not pink and squishy, not beady-eyed... (actually, he's not bad looking at all!)

Lunch with Nora was a nice break. I didn't get too soaked, and the meal was wonderful - a weird little Chinese hole-in-the-wall with incredibly flavorful soup (no MSG!) and the best crispy chicken dish I've ever had. And, of course, the company was wonderful - I think I'm going to adopt Nora as my older sister. We talked politics and things occult (she knew Phil and his group, thinks they were too ego-oriented to accomplish much), as well as music and broken hearts.

I feel really sorry for Stephen - I tried to call him to see what he was doing for Thanksgiving, but couldn't reach him. I hope he's with his family!

2002-11-21T15:42:00.000-05:00

comment:

________________________________________________

You sure you're not making this crap up?

Posted By: someone 11/19/2002 10:25:16 PM

________________________________________________

I'm offended.

A friend of mine, Arthur , has gone missing under odd circumstances including the unnatural death of a mutual acquaintance who was interested in things occult, the police are taking it seriously enough to have assigned a detective to the case (more on that later), my personal life may be getting sucked into the same weird mess that swallowed Arthur whole and spit out Phil's corpse, and "somebody" without balls enough to leave contact info calls my experiences crap and thinks they're fiction.

Fuck you too.

On a better note, work's been almost pleasant. The Evil Virgin has been spending more time in her office, the tasks set before me are less than Herculean for a change, and I'm having lunch with Nora on Friday.

In the freezing rain, if necessary.

2002-11-14T15:11:00.000-05:00

I'm beginning to think I dreamed the whole thing. I haven't been getting a lot of sleep lately. The Bible is right; there are punishments for too much sex. Hallucinations must be one of them.

In other news, there is very little other news. Other than the humongous famine in North Africa that nobody's talking about. Are there even 14 million people living in Boston? How big is a crowd of 14 million?

It's freezing in here, and I don't think it's only because it's November.

2002-11-14T11:27:00.000-05:00

I'm more than a little weirded out right now.

Clark was talking in his sleep the other night, and it wasn't the usual "mutter ..cheese.. mumble. Why would I want to eat that? ...mumble.. snore..."

He was speaking quite clearly, in another language that might have been Spanish or Portuguese. The words were distinct, loud, and rhythmic - it reminded me of a church service in some ways. The words also sounded familiar for some reason, but I was too sleepy to puzzle it out then.

I know now why I thought I sort of knew it; Clark was reciting the passage Arthur was so desperate to get translated months ago. And, some of the words are on the photocopy of the woodcut hanging on my wall. I think what I have is a photocopy of the thing that Arthur was obsessing about.

I have so many questions now, and I don't know if I really want the answers.

Why would Arthur tear the text off the picture? And then make another photocopy?

How did Clark know the entire text? He'd spent some time looking at my photocopy, but there are only fragments of the writing left there.

And, what does it mean??? I looked at the translation on Arthur's blog, and that makes as much sense as people usually do when they're talking in their sleep.

Grrr. I may have grown up wanting to be Nancy Drew, but I'm beginning to hate mysteries.

2002-11-08T16:26:00.000-05:00

Currently, reflecting on our Democratic governor's election in the face of a federal government controlled by Republicans, I'm balancing the pros and cons of moving my pacifist, socialist uterus to Canada.

I don't think we've gotten to that point quite yet.

In the meantime, there's bubonic plague in New York and officials are telling us there's really nothing to worry about.

Since, after all, it's not contagious. No, really.

2002-11-06T04:27:00.000-05:00

OK!! Enough with the weird dreams already!!

Once again, I'm wide awake. Characters from the TV show 24 were at war against the folks from Alias using the mask technology from the ghastly Mission Impossible movies. Everybody was revealed to be somebody else at least twice, the "weapons" were just strange (there was one massive unmasking precipitated by one of the characters throwing salt as if in a sumo match ritual), and while it was all deadly important, I had the feeling that what people did was more important than who finally won.

And I was shopping, again - but for real estate this time. Looking for a nice brownstone. On a Caribbean island.

Did I mention it was all completely silent?

I have no idea why I'm awake - this wasn't particularly scary, just very odd. While I'm up, I might as well meander through a description of the party from Saturday night.

I dressed not quite costumed - low black boots, black jeans, white floppy poet's shirt, red brocade vest, big gold jewelry... I could have almost been Clark's counterpart from Halloween. The party folks were dressed somewhat similarly - definitely not quite streetwear, but obviously not "costumed" either.

And I remembered correctly - the woman who invited me IS named Nora. And she was very appreciative of the bread and cheese I picked up on the spur of the moment instead of the bottle of vino I'd been contemplating. (Good thing, too - there was some amazing wine there!)

The party was pretty low-key until about midnight, when the games began. There was some sort of toasting game that I couldn't quite follow, and somebody had a deck of Tarot cards that were very Burning Man - lots of female and male frontal nudity, lots of tattoos and piercings and mud... so I did the "pick a card" thing and came up with the Six of Swords. In this deck, that's supposed to be "Interpenetrating Worlds" - realities behind other realities, mystical realms poking through the normal state of things and actually affecting what happens in real life. Too weird.

The high point was when the host dragged this big piece of canvas out of a closet and unrolled it in the livingroom. It had a labyrinth painted on it, and everybody who'd pulled a card was supposed to walk it. Somebody put on some sort of tribal music (forgot to ask what it was, I really liked it) and people started walking the painted path. I wasn't going to, but Nora wouldn't let me escape. And when I stepped onto the canvas, suddenly I really didn't want to, but it was like there was this pressure pushing me forward. Once I got started into the labyrinth itself, I was fine and it was fun, and I danced to the center and left my card and danced out again.

Then there was more dancing, more wine, and Nora instigated another round of "pick a card." Of course, I pulled out the same card again. She teased me about really wanting what I was asking for, but she didn't seem entirely happy with the repeat. And I don't remember now anything that I might have been asking for.

Well, I'm kind of tired now - maybe I'll be able to sleep.

2002-11-02T17:35:00.000-05:00

Better now - the house has coffee and bread and such, and I have enough three cent stamps to last until they raise the rates again...

I think I'm going to that party tonight. Not sure what I'm going to wear yet, though. I'm not wearing the corset again, or heels; maybe something simple for a change.

2002-11-02T13:25:00.000-05:00

So much for posting later. Work got ugly (I wasn't the only one who'd obviously had more fun than the Evil Virgin Bitch deemed appropriate, and she took it out on everybody), and I came home to the wreckage from the wee hours of Friday morning. I had to clean up all the bits of costuming that I'd shed (and am still shedding - there's going to be glitter in my apartment for months!). And then I collapsed, slept for over 12 hours...

Tales from Halloween: Clark was a highwayman - a dashing, highly romantasized robber. (He kept "stealing" kisses all night, I played into it and did damsel in distress for a while, he retaliated with mock ravishing... Definitely not PC and we got some funny looks, but it was lots of fun.)

People kept mistaking him for a pirate; if one more drunken fratboy asked him where his eye-patch (or parrot, or peg leg, or hook) was, I'm afraid he might have attempted to use the plastic blade he was carrying.

Sheila does indeed rock. She and Stephen went dressed as each other's bosses - very cute. Stephen's got nice legs, did surprisingly well in his skirt and (low) heels. I teased him about knowing where to shop for heels in his size and he looked kind of blank, then Sheila said she'd done all of his outfitting and he flushed. I'm guessing she introduced him to the "joys" of tucking his privates out of the way so as to not disrupt the line of his skirt. She may introduce him to other things as well; they had a running joke about giving each other memos and it got a little pointed here and there. Nothing nasty, but there were interchanges where they each were obviously conscious that the other person was standing in as their boss, and occasions where the genderfuck stirred stuff around in Stephen's head...

Did I mention that Sheila is absolutely gorgeous, and stunning in trousers and a tie? And comfortable wearing the genitalia that she made Stephen hide? I'm surrounded by perverts. (And I wouldn't have it any other way...)

I can't remember all the places we danced and drank. We got glitterbombed by a very cute fey fairy (the source of the persistent stuff), given chicken by a Colonel Sanders, and got shooters and jello shots as treats in various establishments... We also ran into a group that Sheila knows from somewhere - this woman (Nora??) appeared while we were resting and hanging out, gave Sheila a big hug, and invited us all to a party that's happening tonight.

I may go, but I'm not sure. Sheila and Stephen are out of town this weekend and Clark's got some relative coming in from Florida for a couple of days, so I'd be going alone. Not that that's a big problem - the whole group seemed cool. They were all done up in vaguely pagan costumes: a couple of demons (all shackled!) and a couple of wizards/mages of some sort, a witch, one Glinda the Good, one very impressive Green Man, and a couple of priestesses of one sort or another. Nora (I hope that's her name) was one of the priestesses, and she seemed to radiate calm and security and peaceful energy. She gave me a card with the info for the party and if I hadn't found it while cleaning up last night, I don't think I'd have remembered at all.

As much as I don't want to right now, I must go out and brave the weather - it's cold enough that the weather info is giving a wind-chill as well as an air temperature.

2002-11-01T12:28:00.000-05:00

It's The Day of The Dead.

Appropriate, given the hangover I have... And I was going to be so good last night, given that my presence at work today is MANDATORY.... (Bitch!)
This will be short and discrete, given that I am at work, but suffice it to say that I'm still wearing enough (very persistent) glitter that Clark put some feathers back into my hair this morning and they look good. Everybody but my boss agrees with me on this. (Evil Bitch.)

More later - duty calls.

No, it shrieks. And it sucks.

2002-10-31T02:18:00.000-05:00

Well, I'm wide awake now. I had another weird dream and it woke me up; somehow I don't think I'm going to get back to sleep anytime soon. The fried egg monsters made another appearance, but they weren't in cows or bunnies this time, were independent and full-sized just like in that old Star Trek. But, unlike Star Trek, they weren't dropping from the ceiling and attacking people but glomming together into clumps that got up and walked around like miniature people. And they sang to each other with voices that sounded kind of buzzy - almost as if you put cellophane over a comb and hummed through it. It wasn't a language or a tune that I recognize at all now, but it sounded so very familiar in the dream...

I was walking around and doing some shopping in a funky neighborhood (I wanted to buy chopsticks and a laundry basket - what does that mean??), and these things were there and singing and moving in patterns that seemed meaningful. None of the other people on the streets seemed to see them at all. Those things could touch people without being noticed, too - the people seemed to turn opaque somehow when they were touched, and the things got sort of translucent like layers of oil-soaked paper. I woke up when I could see internal organs developing in the monsters...

I almost wish they'd been wearing little red suits - if it had turned into Twin Peaks it would have been funny and I probably would have kept on sleeping. Well, maybe it wouldn't have been funny, but at least those writhing internal organs would have been covered. ick. I have no feeling that the dream is ridiculous - it made sense while I was there and it all seemed important. Except for the chopsticks.

I'm starting to ramble... I should take some benadryl and try to go back to sleep. I need to get some sleep tonight. Stephen called (he sounded really apologetic that he hadn't been in touch sooner, and he sounds head over heels in infatuation with this Sheila person). We're supposed to get together tomorrow night, all four of us, and go on some sort of club crawl with a small group of folks Sheila knows. If there are no translucent dwarves around, I think I can cope with whatever Clark Kent wears!

2002-10-29T12:11:00.000-05:00

Had a dream last night about those last two entries. It sounds like a joke, but it's true. It was all crossed with that Star Trek episode, with the fried-egg looking alien critters that shlorp onto the backs of people's heads that turn out to be brain cells. Spock blinds himself to get one of them off him with bright light.

In my dream, they had taken over cows, deer, rabbits, (etc) and the cows (etc) were living inside my blood vessels, like these giant tubes with red bushes and stuff. But the brain-cell-alien-infected cows were destroying all the bushes.

I think I should never listen to this song (The Democracy of Small Things) before bedtime again. No matter how much I like the "Little Sally Tutorial" at the end of the album.... Blow, you are mining my heart and soul for material, are you not? Clapping games and sex talk. And the low-fidelity sultry she-singer. If only I could sing, that'd be me.

For some reason, I'm finding it really hard work to get psyched up for Halloween this year. I mean, I'm psyched, but it's work. Maybe it's Clark Kent - I fear the sensitive perv's costume sense. We're surprising each other. This should be a dating shakedown - a chance to show each other our ids. Although he's seen plenty of mine the last couple nights....

2002-10-29T11:40:00.000-05:00

Yet another reason to go vegetarian.....

The idea of a bunch of wild animals suffering from Mad Cow disease is somehow really frightening.

2002-10-26T20:06:00.000-04:00

Is there no such thing as free will anymore?

ALL YOUR BRAINCELL ARE BELONG TO US!!

2002-10-26T14:45:00.000-04:00

I tacked the w?kÍoodcut up on the wall near my front door. It's creepy, I know, but it feels like the only link I have to Arthur right now. Besides, it's kind of fun looking at the bushes behind the guy and finding faces in the ?kÍleaves.

I just wish I could shake the fee?kÍing that the bushes weren't there before.

It's a photocopy. It can't change, right?

2002-10-22T15:56:00.000-04:00

So, weblogs are now in Doonesbury. And I'm thinking about *boys*.

I feel so... mainstream.

2002-10-19T14:46:00.000-04:00

Clark Kent called. He was apologetic about asking me to go see Secretary (without admitting he'd done anything wrong, of course), was very sweet about wanting to buy me dinner, and seemed very sensitive to issues of trust and what you could call "boundaries."

I'm going to accept the dinner. I still don't know if he's a perv - maybe he's from California and has been through tons of therapy, or maybe he's just very aware and emotionally intelligent. If so, why is he still single??

2002-10-18T12:01:00.000-04:00

I'm trying to decide what to do with the little souvenir I brought back from Arthur's place. I'm not sure why I brought it home with me - it's just a photocopy of an old woodcut of some sort. Maybe it proves to me that I was really there? Not that I'd forget, just that part of me doesn't really believe it anymore....and the Nancy Drew in me wants to go back, prove that it wasn't all that bad. Maybe I should put the woodcut back? Maybe it's a clue for something?

It's definitely strange... kind of creepy looking. Seriously. There's this guy with a big axe of some sort in one hand facing a dead tree. There's a big black bird up near the top of this leafless tree, watching the guy. Maybe the bird is inspecting what's coming out of the guy's mouth? I can't decide if it's a forked tongue or a human hand. Anyway, the whole scene is framed with these round shapes. They're like clouds or bubbles, except that they're on the ground as well... The edges of the original page have been torn off, but there are some letters and words left that show up on the photocopy - just enough to see that the writing isn't in English.

I'd forgotten all about the woodcut until the cops came back on Wednesday. Yes, they kept their appointment and were precisely on time... (It must be nice to be able to park anywhere and not worry about getting a ticket!) They had questions that seemed mostly like a rehash of their last visit, not particularly useful. So I started talking about Arthur getting involved with Phil's group, then asked about Phil's death. One of them seemed really surprised, and the other one went all official. "That incident is still under investigation and we can't talk about it." Then they both went back to being Society Plumbers, very nice and not at all scary-TV-cops, so I decided to push just a little. I went off about how I introduced the two of them, I was their friend and I felt responsible somehow and dammit I had a right to know what was going on! It didn't do any good. I guess Plumbers don't talk about what they see in other houses...

The worst thing is that part of it was true. I spent most of Thursday moping because I did feel responsible... for everything.

But it's Friday now, and to steal a quote:
"I'M ALL FINE AND WELL NOW! "

So I introduced Phil and Arthur. And, yes, I don't know where Arthur is or what he's doing these days. But do I really believe that Phil and his group of weirdos is responsible for Arthur's absence? Maybe just a little, but only because they're weirdos. Meaning only that I don't know what they do.

Do I really believe that Arthur had anything to do with Phil's death? No, of course not. Arthur is a slightly shy bookish librarian, a complete sweetheart with one marginally odd hobby ... who I'm making sound like the serial killer that nobody ever suspected of anything.

No. Arthur had nothing at all to do with Phil's death.
Nothing. At. All.

2002-10-13T17:51:00.000-04:00

It's Sunday. And I'm confused...

Clark Kent and I went out to his favorite restaurant for Thai food, and we had a wonderful evening. The food was wonderful; good enough to make me forget I was getting tired of pad thai. Clark was funny, warm, and attentive and asked if I wanted to go see Secretary. Have I let a pervert into my life?

Mind you, it's not like he asked me to go to "In the Realm of the Senses." And I have nothing against the occasional spanking between friends. (Jeremy - I'm still not going to tell you if I'd be giving or getting!) And, this could certainly explain why he was so very good at calming me down and taking care of me after Phil's freakoid buddy accosted us at the club. But Secretary isn't exactly a "we just started dating" sort of movie.

Sigh. I didn't really need the reminder that "perverts" who are into BDSM are generally nice people. But I guess I did need the reminder that I don't know anything at all about the man behind the Clark Kent mask. And I'm still not sure I want to see that movie with him...

In other news, the police have made an appointment to talk to me some more about Arthur's vanishing act. An appointment! That's something else you don't see on TV...

2002-10-08T10:31:00.000-04:00

I'm feeling kind of bipolar right now, except the upswing is all mellow and dreamy, and the downside is all high-energy scrabbling panic.

The good stuff is that the guy Jeremy set me up with is a doll. He's sweet, romantic. (Oh, listen to me...). Never thought I'd really go for the Clark Kent type... Jeremy was right, I was horny; now I'm horny with a specific lust-object in mind. And I shall say no more about that.

The panic state is induced by the fact that Spooky Phil is a corpse. A spooky, beaten and/or mutilated corpse. One of his buddies came up to me, babbling, on my date and freaked me and my Specific Lust Object out. We left the bar, he trailed us out to the dance floor, yelling at me. "What did you see? How did you find him?"

I eventually confronted him, and the guy just cringed and started talking about police and Phil's body, and bite marks, how he became a corpse on the night of Arthur's "party" in an alley a block or so from Arthur's apartment, which brought all that ick surfacing up again. My demonic Nancy Drew needs to know: What happened that night? Phil died a distinctly unnatural death, and all I can think of is that noise in Art's bathroom and those little square things that looked like fingernails. Where is Art? Did the *thing* in the bathroom kill both of them? Was the thing in the bathroom actually Phil or Arthur...dying?? What was that thing in front of Art's computer? I still have it at home... should I tell the cops?

Two days later, I still have that interior... monologue? question-logue?... going on all the time, but at the time, I was carefully extracted from the club and nursed back to "normalcy" over a warm cappucino. With affection.

And he called me the next day to see if I was OK, and if I wanted to do anything tonight.

And I do.

No goth clubs, though. Maybe... thai food. Maybe... a flamethrower to Arthur's apartment. Yeah, trust me to do that and him suddenly be back inside. Deep, cleansing breaths. Deep, cleansing breaths....

2002-10-04T12:51:00.000-04:00

Buckle down time.

That's it. I'm going to get something done if it kills me.éº

I hereby declare, gazing boldly into the future, thatéº I will be a novelist!

Yes, I have joined National Novel Writing Month. Official éºslogan: it doesn't have to be good, it just has to get done.

Expect frequent interruptions to this journal during the month of éºNovember, because I'll be working on something else.

So, now for ideas.....

---------------------------

éºIn other news, I'm actually giddy over the prospect of a date tonight. It's nuts. Don't they sell cynicism in aerosol cans anéºymore? Oh ironic, wry, bitter 90s, come back! All is forgiven! éº

------------------------

The cops came by last night. Two of them. For someone like me, who only knows cops from TV and traffic tickets, it was very odd. They were like... plumbers. Or electricians. Guys doing their job, trying to fix something that was broken. A strange revelation for a city girl like me. Aren't we supposed to be familiar with the mechanisms of law enforcement just by, hello, virtue of the lifestyle? I suddéºenly feel so... suburban. Sheltered.

They took their notes and said they might come back if anything developed. I was surprised by that, too, I suppose. The Society Plumbers were actually, like, taking me seriously. They were éºtrying to help.

An end to irony, indeed.

2002-10-03T11:52:00.000-04:00

I've been noticing birds lately.

I know that sounds corny, but I think it's a... change in the weather.

kéº$’kÍX

(the computer is still acting weird, so I have to cut it short.)

(as you can no doubt see, if the last post was any indication.)

Anyway, I've noticed I've been thinking dark thoughts lately, and my grandmother says, "Dark thoughts make a dark sky," so I'm intentionally brightening up. Flowers aren't really in season any more, but I've been noticing birds. It's nice.

I called the police about Arthur (Quest 2, still in warped action!), and they said they'd send somebody to talk to me later at my apartment.The cops make house calls?

Jeremy, upon reading about Quest 1, has decided to return the favor. He set me up for a date tomorrow night with someone he promises I'll like. He's mopey, dopey and nuts all over, he says. Jeremy, as you can tell, is brain damaged.

kéº$’kÍX

But the thing is, contrary to all my habits and common sense, I'm actually looking forward to this. I even find myself wanting to [shudder] go slow dancing. Maybe I'm not listening to enough kéº$’kÍXn

die pop. Too much Journey on the oldies station at the deli, maybe. Junior high dance memories - my older cousins' junior high dance memories, actually, which makes them even more pronouced, oddly. So, lifted on the rising currents of borrowed nostalgia, I spread my black wings and soar, gazing at the earth below me only to seek out tasty morsels of fragrant carrion. Yea, verily, I *am* the vulture of romance!

Or maybe I'm just horny.

2002-10-01T18:05:00.000-04:00

I feel guilty for not updating. I feel even guiltier for not having much of a life. The most exciting thing that ahas happened to me lately: my college boyfriend has gotten engaged (go ex! viva love! I'm perfectly happy being alone!)R, and my computer is t starting to act really weird whenever I'm online.

I start getting lots of characters I know I didn't type in any blank space I'd normally be able to type in. You won't believe hhow long it has taken towrite this entry. uuuu Shit, it's doing it again. delete delete.
R

The weird thing is is is it does it ast home *and* at work. Is this some weiird virusll or something? It makes NO sense, and it's getting annoying, and if I write offline, it doesn't happen. But if I'm connected and writing in AAWord or somethilng, iit hvappens. Shit. I givee up. This is messed up.

2002-09-23T10:00:00.000-04:00

So my friend Stephen just called me up to scare me. Apparently he was in bar somewhere and he heard some crazy guy ranting, and he kept saying my name. More details on Stephen’s blog. I’m wondering if this isn’t connected to all the weirdness with our friend Arthur. Am I paranoid?

It’s weird. I keep linking weird things that go one to Arthur hanging out with my old acquaintance Phil. Am I seeing connections that really aren’t there? It scares me to think I could be losing my mind. Jeremy, bless his big gay heart, says I’ve never seemed more normal to him. Although, he was quick to add that “normal = boring = yawn.”

Hmmmmmm….

I think junk food for lunch. Junk food? yes…….

2002-09-17T12:23:00.000-04:00

Quest 1: Not getting anywhere. Jeremy already knows all the single men in town. He tells me he's considering going straight, but I told him if he lays a hand on me, I'll kill him. He then proceeded to say bad things about the relative size and hairiness of portions of my anatomy, at which point it became necessary to throw ice at him.

This isn't an easy job.

Quest 2: I don't know what I should say about this one. I don't like to think too much about things on Sunday. (So then, I ask myself, why write it down?) Why indeed.

Because if I didn't, I suppose, that would mean there's no point to all this. It has to be my life, I think. That's the project. So I'm going to write without thinking.

I think Arthur's either lost or has lost it. I went by his place and it scared me. Knocked on the door, no answer, but I could hear him moving. So, when I was there before, he told me that sometimes he uses the window as a back door.

And this was a quest, after all.

So, up the fire escape to the open window, sweating in the heat and from the climbing, I holler. Silence. And then I see Arthur sitting there at his computer, kind of lying back in his chair, with his back to me. So I yell at him. No answer.
I crawl inside and am about to slug him when I realize it's not Arthur at all. I don't know what it was. Maybe he started building a model of himself out of Elmer's glue and dust - that's sort of what it looked like. Only all flat, like a snake's skin, and with bit of old clothes around it. there are white rectangular things at the ends of where the hands would be. It was the hat on the head part that fooled me.

And that's not the whole freaky part. There was this smell - I'd noticed it last time I was there. Parmesan cheese, locker room, sandalwood... cooking oil? Yeast? Familiar, but not. It was coming from the whatever on the chair. And on the computer keyboard was this small etching, like a woodcut. I picked it up to see what it was - to take a closer look. When I did, I saw the model thing out of the corner of my eye and could have sworn again that it was Arthur, like in a costume. But it wasn't. It was just the model thing. Scared now, right? Right. I got out my sketch pad (I had my satchel with me) to leave a note, say how worried I was, and make the creepy bastard call me. That's when I heard something move from the bathroom.

The bathroom is off the bedroom, and you have to walk through the bedroom to get there. And the last time I was there, well, the bedroom was not a good place to be. It wasn't messy, it was... just read what I said about it before, Aug 20. Ugh. So without touching anything, I stick my head in there to yell, but before I can, I realize two things: one, the smell is a lot stronger in there, and two, there's that sound again, like something large moving in the bathroom, but it sure doesn't sound like a person. The door handle is jiggling a little, like a rat or something was tapping at it or jumping on it (not that a rat could hang onto the inside of the door, but I wasn't quite thinking straight), and there's a kind of wet, drippy sound, like maybe the bathtub on the next floor up was soaking through the ceiling. Ploplubpluplupplup.... All I could think of were little roach bodies.

And right about then, I took one step back and then heard something even bigger and louder (seven feet tall? I don't know) bang against the inside of the closet door. OK, looking back, it was probably just, I don't know, an ironing board falling over at exactly the wrong moment, but it sounded to me like something bigger than a human being trying to get the fuck out and get at me.

So I screamed like a girl, squeezed the sketch pad and the woodcut so hard there are still finger impressions in the paper, and I ran out of the window and down the ladder. I still have the fucking woodcut, but I don't think I'm ever going back there to drop it off. Not without a flame thrower.

And the thing that really freaks me out is that I'm half sure the white things at the ends of the model thing's hands were fingernails.

2002-09-13T10:25:00.000-04:00

I'm so very tired of all this stuff.

Death upon death upon death. That's all I can see.

I'm going to be concentrating on solidifying friendships. And not drinking. And not drinking.

Let this be my manifesto: I refuse to worry. Any more. I have two quests now.

Quests are good, you know, because they help you focus, and in these dangerous times, focus is so very important, lest I wind up on some Florida highway with a box of Morning Glory sparklers in the trunk and a pack of troopers on my tail. Ever wonder why it's harder to get good fireworks in this country than it is to get a handgun? That was one of Dumb Bastard's hobbyhorses, so I'm going to get off it now, and get back to focus, which is what this is all about.

So, focus. Two quests.

First quest: find Jeremy someone tall, dark, handsome, and nearly hairless for him to spend the rest of his life with.

Second quest: find out what the hell is up with Arthur, and get him to spend more time away from his s*shudder*r infested apartment and his dangerously icky unfriends (because that's what they are - I know this.)

Sounds easy enough. So, any handsome gay boys looking for a date? Any bug-loving librarians got leads on jobs?

Submit at the tone.....

2002-09-09T17:47:00.000-04:00

I hate my boss. I hate my boss. I hate my boss.

Have I ever told you how much I hate my boss?

Have I used the word "kill"??? Have I used the word "evil"????

Today, I've been trying to find this file for her that doesn't exist. I know it doesn't exist because I've looked it up in the database every possible way, but she still insists it's there and that the computer system (and therefore I) lost it. So, I've been searching all freaking day for this file that at this point I sure as hell don't want to find.

My head is pounding. I've been in way too many annoying conversations today. And I just want to go home and find that big bottle of percosets my friend Tina stole from her dad after he had open heart surgery.

2002-09-05T15:00:00.000-04:00

I've been getting into evil dolls lately. What do you think the most evil doll in the world would be?

This one won some contest, but I think it's mostly the lighting...

Jeremy claims he finds this one oddly terrifying.

And people made up to look like dolls are obviously waaaaaaay creepy.

But my personal vote is for this very evil clown doll.

Oooh, shudder....

2002-09-04T15:38:00.000-04:00

I'm worrying too much. I must be worrying too much.

A better work environment would keep me from worrying so much.

2002-09-03T14:21:00.000-04:00

ok, I'm finding myself in a situation I've only seen in movies. A friend of mine is missing (Arthur, for those frequent readers among you). I mean, not answering email, not answering his phone, not answering when you knock on his door for every night last week, none of his friends (that I'm in touch with) have heard from him.

So, am I allowed to report his disappearence to the police? or do I have to be family to do that? and if when they show up, he happens to be sitting in his living room eating popcorn, am I going to get in trouble for crying wolf?

Seriously, if anyone knows how this works, please comment or drop me an email. I've never really trusted cops much and must be feeling pretty desperate if I'm looking to go to them for help...

2002-08-30T13:34:00.000-04:00

No, I'm sorry. It's pathetic to have your hope and balance come from a pretend TV character from a snarky webcomic.

Somebody convince me that Labor Day weekend will not suck. I will not be ditched by friends, and I will, in fact, have new and surprising adventures, rather than being bored, drunk and easy.

That sounds bad, even to me.

2002-08-29T12:45:00.000-04:00

Enough of this bizarre loneliness & desperation!

I have found a new love!

So there, stupid, stupid friends.

I wish.

2002-08-26T15:36:00.000-04:00

I really need to find a boyfriend.

My life, I have decided, really needs the stability and constant source of low grade interesting things happening, like going to movies or experimenting with new recipes.

I'm tired of weekends like this.

2002-08-22T17:34:00.000-04:00

Look, Arthur, ICE CREAM!!!

That's what Auntie Minty will buy for you if you hang out with her instead of scary weirdo people....

(God, I never thought I'd get to point in my life when I was anti-weirdo...)

2002-08-22T12:11:00.000-04:00

From our friends at CNN:

Wildlife park to add mammoth attraction

(CNN) --In an eerie recreation of Steven Spielberg's blockbuster movie "Jurassic Park", scientists are planning to clone an extinct animal to be the central attraction of a wildlife park.

The Times of London reports that Japanese scientists are planning to use tissue from the legs and testicles of a dead mammoth to clone the extinct creature and display it at an Ice Age wildlife park in Siberia.

Mammoths became extinct about 10,000 years ago, but using a technique that involves impregnating an Indian elephant -- its closest genetic relative -- with mammoth sperm and then repeating the procedure with its offspring could produce a creature that is 88 percent mammoth in 50 years, the report said.

An alternative technique would involve cloning the mammoth from DNA found in the soft tissue, but although methods of extraction have improved, complete strands of DNA from mammoths are still hard to come by.

This specimen, believed to have been buried in an avalanche 25,000 to 30,000 years ago, was found in 1994, but it wasn't until this month when an expedition was sent to the site following Japanese interest from universities in Kinki and Tifu.

Ten million buried in permafrost
Those behind the planned park are already populating the site in north-east Siberia with other species from the Ice Age in hopeful anticipation of the mammoth's arrival.

There are currently hundreds of wild horses and musk ox grazing the land by the River Kolyma, and talks to import bison from Canada are already underway.

Mammoths, large herbivorous mammals that resemble modern elephants, first appeared on Earth four million years ago.

Scientists are unsure whether global climate change or hunting by early humans -- or a combination of both -- drove the mammoth to extinction.

There are believed to be ten million mammoths buried in the permafrost in Siberia, but because of the sparse population in the region only around one hundred specimens have been recovered.

However, despite the fact that most mammoths recovered from Siberia are seen as some of the finest museum examples in the world, poor excavation and preservation methods have ruined the chances for any reproduction of the animals by destroying tissue samples.

2002-08-20T16:35:00.000-04:00

The Nobility of Blattidae.

I never really think of myself as a queasy person. I have health problems from time to time, and hanging out in the circles I hang out in, I have no shortage of manic and hygenically challenged friends. But there's something I've found last night that really gets to me.

Right.

I dropped in on my friend Arthur to see how he was doing, and to finally get a look at his butterfly collection. He's been getting a little weird lately. I don't know, maybe he's always like this -- I haven't really known him that long, really.

So it's all cool, he's got a little place, bit of a funky smell, but that's the city for you. Clutter is average. Fridge is bachelor empty (what is it with guys and condiment bottles? the sauce is only good if you put it on FOOD, turkeynecks). A bit grimy in the corners. A few bags of something moldy in the drawers at the bottom.

We go into Arthur's room, which is a lot more nest-like than the rest of the place, clothes in heaps everywhere, with papers and stuff in loose piles - a little intimidating, but I'm sure he'd feel the same in my space. He pulls these long boxes out from under his bed - there are brown spots on some of the lids, but nothing too major - and inside are his specimens.

Some of them are really great. I mean really gorgeous insects, wings like rainbows. All very neatly labelled, very anal (unlike the rest of the apartment). Then a couple I notice seem a bit ragged - old, maybe crumbled around the edges in a familiar pattern. (You might see where this is going.) I pointed it out to him and he says, "Yeah, I noticed that a couple weeks ago. I took some measures and made myself some new specimens."

And he brings out this other box, which is *covered* in writing, scribbled, so I can't read it, and he lifts the lid.

And it's all cockroaches. Displayed. On Pins. With their wings spread out like they're flying. Brown - I remember seeing lots of shades of brown - and I remember noticing the funky smell got stronger when he lifted the lid. And I remember looking up and jumping back because I could see Arthur's face with a weird smile, and behind him there was the curtain over the window, and around the edges of the curtain I could see something moving. There were legs and feelers sticking out, and then a lot of bodies moving really quickly. At first I was sure I was making it up, imagining things, but then the curtain blew and the whole window was covered with them. They were all alive, moving, hopping over each other, there was that smell, and some of them, I swear, were like six inches long (OK, maybe four, but still - twice the size of the biggest roach I've ever seen). It only lasted a second, then the curtain blew back or whatever, but I had to get up. I think I screamed, then apologized. I went to the kitchen, splashed some water in my face, and I could swear I saw something moving in the bottom of the drain. That was it. I just ran out.

So one of the coolest guys I've met lives very simply with a bunch of these guys for roomates.

I mean, the curtains were *moving*. I could *hear their legs pattering.*

Arthur, if you're reading this, sorry I left, sorry I got freaked out, but... really. Screaming like that is so unlike me. You have to have to have to do something about the bugs. It's not safe for you to sleep there, I don't think. You should call the health authorities on your landlord, before he calls them on you. Leave town, sleep on my couch, and buy a sixer of bug bombs. Just... do something. I say this because I care.

2002-08-15T15:25:00.000-04:00

In self-righteous protest of Toho Ltd's attack on poor innocent bloggers, I have changed the name of this blog to Mintyzilla! Solidarity, man! And more importantly, Mintyzilla crush puny humans!

2002-08-08T13:31:00.000-04:00

I'm not sure if this is more accurately the way I look or just the way I feel. I'm consumed with a surprising amount of bitterness lately. On the way to work this morning, I wished three people dead and one of them to get a flat tire (I'm nothing if not fair).

2002-08-01T14:31:00.000-04:00

This is the niqab.

And this is the driver's license picture that's causing such a to-do.

2002-07-30T11:49:00.000-04:00

So, somebody at work got me this "Our Dumb Century" headline a day calendar from the Onion.

Today's entry is from November 6, 1918: "Corpse-Eating Rats Now Largest Military Force in Europe."

What can I say? I have a soft spot in my heart for corpse-eating rats....

In other news, it looks like those of us with a death wish will have to wait for the next space rock. The most recent hopefull is going to miss us by this year, in 2019, and most likely in 2060 as well.

2002-07-26T13:31:00.000-04:00

OK, Phil, if you wrote that last comment to the last entry on my blog, that's fucked up, OK? Spooky and weird can be fun, but fucked up just pisses people off.

Kay?

2002-07-25T17:56:00.000-04:00

So, ran into this guy I know from the club scene today during lunch. He was just leaning against the wall of the building I work in, reading a battered old paperback book about how to play the trumpet. I asked him why he we was there and he was like, "Oh, just seemed like a good place to read." Passing strange, right? Well, he found out I was on my way to lunch and asked if he could tag along. I don't really like this guy, but I felt like disentangling myself from him would take more time than it was worth.

We we went to the salad bar down the street. Phil--that's this guy's name--makes a salad that's all cottage cheese, mushrooms, croutons, and bacon bits, then drenches it in russian dressing. Just a big salmon-colored pile of mush. Very strange.

We make some small talk for a while, then suddenly out of the blue, he's like, "Well, I really turned your friend Arthur on." And at first I thought he meant they were dating or something, but he explained, "I've been giving him some things to think about, opening doors for him. He's really ready to evolve. I think you're going to be very impressed by him." Then, like it was just occuring to him, he adds, "You should come to one of our get-togethers some time. It's very... enriching."

I said I'd think about it, and like a flash, he stood up, said he had to go, and walked out without eating a bite or paying for his food.

When I got back, I emailed Arthur to warn him, and my email bounced back. Probably his server was just down...

2002-07-23T17:11:00.000-04:00

So, trooped down to Philadelphia with Jeremy and his friend Todd for the Gay and Lesbian Film Festival there. Jeremy was quite happy to show us his old stomping grounds and introduce us to some of the lucky few people he’d actually stomped.

The slamminest picture we saw was definitely
Andy Warhol’s Flesh For Frankenstein in 3-D!

It was brilliant. Little Joe was ravaged by woman after woman, hung from chains, and generally hunkish throughout. Udo Kier overacted in a way that I could only describe as hyper-ironic (“The only way to understand death is to fuck life in the gall bladder!”). The 3-D effects were mostly used to make people’s guts fly out into your face when their chests were ripped open. Once I swore there was a penis mixed up in a mess of livers and intestines, but Jeremy says that was just wishful thinking.

Sherman Alexie’s The Business of Fancydancing was quite good. Not so much a story as a series of poetic moments featuring mostly the same characters. Very impressionistic and delightful.

Also saw a collection of shorts called “Cruising the High Seas” and a film about German Drag Queens.

Also, kudos to a bar called Tritone where we ate and drank many delicious meals. I could eat nothing but their cheddar jalapeno mashed potatoes for the rest of my life and be happy.

Much fun, but now that I'm back I already want to kill the Virgin....

2002-07-17T09:38:00.000-04:00

Guess which item on this list of trivia really appeals to me:

Dust: It's Where We Come From....

* What makes dust is its size: anything under 65 microns is dust. By comparison, a single hair is around 100 microns wide, and the period at the end of this sentence is 300 microns across.

* Without dust, there would be no rain - the water vapor in clouds needs something solid to condense around.

* The dust floating freely in the atmosphere helps deflect solar radiation, making Earth a nicer place to live.

* The colors on butterfly wings are made of thousands of millions of tiny, colorful scales - which are constantly being shed into the air as dust.

* Most dust in your home is made of human skin. The average person sheds 50 million scales of skin every day.

* Every day, 100 tons of dust drifts onto our planet from exploding stars.

* By comparison, the Sahara Desert loses two million tons of dust a day. On the Caribbean island of Barbados, the soil almost entirely consists of dust blown across the Atlantic from the Sahara over the last 750,000 years.

* Scientists can tell the difference between the dust that blows into your house from the desert, falls off your skin or lands from outer space by looking at it under a powerful microscope. Grains of supernova dust have little round beads around the outside - where tiny amounts of metal melted and oozed out.

* You probably inhale around 150,000 dust particles with every breath.

* Dust from industrial pollution reduces crops in China by up to 30 percent. The yellowish cloud of dust is also visible from space, blowing into the Pacific Ocean.

* Every solar system is created from floating clouds of dust, which, thanks to gravity, gradually glom together into a sun and planets.

* Every human being is surrounded by an aura of dust - and not just from skin. Office workers carry dust from ink and paper, carpenters are in a haze of sawdust, and cooks live inside a floating halo of flour.

* Even if you're sitting absolutely still, you are increasing the dust in the room by 500 percent!

2002-07-16T14:43:00.000-04:00

Dude! I missed Bastille Day!

Ah, the splendor of France... the refinement... the lights.

The history...

...the architecture....

2002-07-15T12:54:00.000-04:00

Spider man, spider man

Does whatEVER a spider can...

Don't open this link like at work unless they're like cool with... uhhh... extreme superhero fantasy.

No news about the weekend is good news. I'm still not strong enough to dance, but, as Friday evening proved, I can still drink. Although not quite to the point of embarrassment. Mental note: good friends are the friends that say "Hey, cool," when you tell them you're not buying another martini.

I must be getting old.

2002-07-12T13:28:00.000-04:00

I had no idea blogging had such a rich history.

Hail, Caesar!

2002-07-11T17:21:00.000-04:00

Oh, WFMU, how do I love your

temptations, your

indie celebrations,

your

new sensations I feel deep and meaningful

shocks to my system,

so....

... just listen.

That is...

while you can.

(ooo, that gummint make me MAD!!)

2002-07-09T14:53:00.000-04:00

My new project: drawing heroes GOD'S way. God appears not to have as much of a liking for enormous breasts as some other comic book artists.

Oh, whither Neil Gaiman? Whither Sandman?

In other news, thank you, Arthur, for your kind email. It is indeed cool that we've both got a butterfly thing going on. A little disturbing that you behold Mother Nature's airy spirits of light and ephemeral beauty by sticking pins into them, but hey, I can forgive a lot.

2002-07-08T17:43:00.000-04:00

Sorry folks - the last few days can be summed up in two words: ovaries suck.

Nothing major or life threatening, but I'm thankful I have good medical insurance. I enjoyed the long weekend, and managed to see fireworks, but wasn't great company. (Sorry Jeremy. Sorry Stephen. Sorry Art. Sorry Kathy. Sorry outdoor/indoor party people.) The rest of the weekend wasn't much fun either.

I think, once my guts are back in order, I need to go camping. Somewhere in Vermont, maybe, far away from this sick, sick city. Someplace with actual trees and rocks, where you can climb and eat berries. And not worry about bus fares or getting hit by early 90s-model GMC cars driven by the Irish mafia. (Because everyone knows that everything bad that happens in this town, it's the Irish mafia's fault.)

For today, though, I'm back online and back at work. Jeremy gets a gold star for bravery.

I think the Butterfly Farm needs a theme... what kind of theme? I mean, besides my glamorous life....

2002-07-03T15:23:00.000-04:00

Minty's still out of blog's reach, so I, faithful Jeremy, shall continue updating things. Of course, since I'm not a rampant exhibitionist like Ms. Minty, I don't have as much to say. However, fearing just such silence. I made another poem out of a section of Minty's blog.

To remind you the secret of poetry, follow these three easy steps, (1) Capture some prose, (2) Run it through the Lost in Translation website which translates it into life five different languages then back to english, and (3) delete parts you don't like. Voila, instant poetry! Here's the poem:

Boston takes the black color more under the surfaces
and stabbed it.
Possession could also.
I have of a measurer the butterfly and, the man, Ing.
Who I slaughter that I have?
Who I slaughter that I have?

I strike of the end for the ascent.
Scott almost ignited in the fire,
of which the form projects burning itself of sambuka.

how much hour is after Boston
and if "the three of us tonight?" of the signs?
Demons of Jeremy and of I
form to bars with two types,
of that blogs they have
and the three of us we connected,
the end to examine the efforts the Blogging of everything.
One of them had continued,
excess that the end when demanding
explains the applicable names of the way.

It aligns white women, of those who of music, elegant Bessy,
of that one the healthful guide of the ghosts of the world is
white woman of gentleman, Siouxsie,
disowned to friend of the sex,
of which it was Japanese the alcohol-ill place setting jazz of the person of Jeremy, obtained the indicated cattles the supply of Bebop,
the example of the tiger,
the operation, the zone,
The substance appreciates....
One disappears that you know, that...

He is broken
has opened to the outside
The ampere hour, goodie, hour damages, of that one test,
to press the relative donkey in my preferential connection of the leather trousers.
If you stop to come, he is called,
you asked how much of the pretty way!
reincarnation of the cycle.
The narcotic thing.
with the garden one has left the buttock external,
where I ate enough
the end not still to come.

all the air line of the moon and I observed it of a telescope.
when they had been useless who had only given the form to the noises, .
It was as silence, music, silence, music.

Which kisses it?
I possibly go for lower I with something.
A call has the pleasant length of the necessity
of the necessity of the dew of the small mountain....
They are I are strange
this one that improve the small hats to stand out,
He has DEFECTIVE PEOPLE who are of here,
new of the people of the creatures,
he gives to form the terrible and defective things.
Terrible things.
Terrible things.

Rectum like & very; Jerry
to make the better examinación of flavors
and her transforms it inside with a great oscillation.
Boy of the beach of the vampire.

I memory to consider
And I memory of the very greater part
from the house to one
marries the great one very.
Or was this one a construction?
Seriously defective children....

2002-07-02T11:22:00.000-04:00
Hello all. Jeremy here, doppleganging poor Minty, who can't be with you. Think of me as Little Billy filling in while that Family Circus guy is on vacation. Here's Minty's pleading email:
Jeremy, I'm still stuck working from my bosses office and am way too freaked to risk updating my blog from her computer, lest she find it. Could you put some stuff on it for me?

It's almost enough to make one sob, isn't it? Especially, the way she writes "bosses" instead of "boss's". Gasp!

So, slick, what would you like to see here? Should I talk about my sexual exploits? Should I talk about Minty's sexual exploits? Should I tell you Minty's real name? Double Gasp!

Oh, I know, here's one of my paintings. It's called
And So It Was When Each of Them Was Called to Fall

And speaking of calling, I've got to go. People are calling to woo me.

--Jeremy

(Actually a nap is calling, but I'm sure I'll dream about sex.)

2002-06-28T16:16:00.000-04:00
a daring report from the middle of evil virgin territory:

I've been working from the Evil Virgin's desk for the past two days, because of this big file assessment thing we're doing (I have deemed it: The Reckoning). Basically, this is not a problem, especially since it means having an office with a window! Yes, that's a window straight to the outside world. The problem is that there's this guy in the building across the street, who just stands in his window staring in this direction. Now, obviously I can't see his eyes, so I don't know for a fact that he's staring at me, but I do feel like he is. Especially since every time I look up at him, he turns away and acts like he's doing something else. But five minutes later, he's back...

So, what else is new... I hung out with those two blogger boys I mentioned. Such boys. It was all pirates vs. ninjas, mp3s, and pornographic anime. Did have some fun though forcing Art to dance. Some pursuits are so worth the time spend on them...

Ugh, he is soooooooo starring at me. Stop it creepy stranger across the steet!! Stop it!!!

2002-06-26T14:40:00.000-04:00

Does this painting look haunted to you? Apparently it is and it drives people mad, makes them sick, and sells for big bucks on ebay. I kind of like it. Jeremy warned me not to put it up on my blog or people might die. Yeah, like that's going to stop me...

It's like 100 degrees in Boston today and I'm wearing black stockings. How smart am I? I went for a walk during work and this guy good-naturedly hit on me, and I almost stabbed him. I could have too. I have a butterfly knife and, man, does it purr....

Who should I kill? Who should I kill?

2002-06-24T09:29:00.000-04:00
Well, finished cleaning up from Saturday night party on Monday morning (not that I was doing much work sunday). Have come to the conclusion that for some people, a party is a game where you try to hide as many cigarette butts and bottle caps in as many places in someone's home as you can. On the plus side, found someone's little plastic bag still quite full.

Well, let's see...

I chickened out on wearing a corset... despite Jeremy's pleadings. Big Dumb Bastard's new girlfriends hit on some guy I didn't know, and Bid Dumb Bastard threatened to beat him up. Scott almost lit himself on fire doing a flaming sambuka shot. Kenny almost fell off my balcony while smoking a cigar. Dana hooked up with this guy Mark from work, who is currently standing behind me, asking me how long she's going to be in Boston and if "the three of us should hang out tonight?"

Jeremy and I made pals with two guys who have blogs (I couldn't tell if they were a couple or not), and the three of us pledged to check out each other's blogging efforts. One of them kept demanding I tell him my real name. I thought that was funny. Here's Stephen and here's Art.

I met a really interesting girl named Anastasia, but then Jackie showed up with about a hundred people, and it was all madness from there. Music included White Stripes, Dressy Bessy, Ghost World soundtrack, Siouxsie and The Banshees, Alien Sex Friend, some crazy japanese jazz Jeremy brought called Cowboy Bebop, Tiger Trap, Daniel Lanois, Apples in Stereo, Strokes, Space, Hives, Manson, etc. Stuff like that....

That's about it....

2002-06-21T16:38:00.000-04:00
Well, you know who is here... and she's already making a racket. She's currently breaking open a bottle of gin I got for the party and yelling at me about what I'm doing on the computer. She wants a complete list of elligible guys who are coming to the party, complete with reasons why I'm not dating any of them. Hmmm.... let's see... "Too skinny... Too annoying... Junkie... Gay... Dumb bastard."

Oh, goodie, now Dana's trying to squeeze her ass into my favorite pair of leather pants. Well, if I'm ever gonna look even half way foxy ever again, I better go and de-pants her.

I'll try to check in during the party, but no promises! If you're coming, remember, it's 9:00 tomorrow and yes, you can bring a bottle with you, how lovely you asked!

2002-06-19T10:19:00.000-04:00
So, at Jeremy’s request I include the details of my trip to New York.

Whitney Museum of American Art:
Only two floors were open, but at least it was half price. And I discovered a new artist that I love: Paul Cadmus.

Banaras: City of Light

Stumbled upon this show at the Asia Society quite by accident (aka looking for a bathroom after a three mojito lunch), but it was so awesome. Besides pictures of this beautiful ancient Indian city from the turn of the century, there was also this fully interactive tour of all the ways this city figures into both Hindu mythology and Hindu life. Apparently, if you bath in the river Ganga there as you are dying, you are released from the cycle of reincarnation. The amazing thing is that you don’t press buttons or use a mouse to activate things in the exhibit. Instead, you pick up objects that make video spring to life, or turn a bicycle rickshaw wheel to take a virtual tour of the city. Pretty much everything you touched there, made some image or sound come to life.

Great Food
Two restaurants really stood out at being great for the money, especially since we were staying at Jackie’s brother’s apartment on the upper east side. Circus, which is this Brazilian place where we drank many Brazilian mojitos and talked soccer with the owner.
And Suan, this amazing Thai place with a garden out back, where I ate enough squid to sink the Nautilus.

Stiff Little Fingers

Ok, for reasons still unclear, Jackie thought it would be a great idea for us to do acid at a punk rock show. The music was great but it really seemed like the band was a thousand miles away because of the acid. It was like they were somewhere just past the moon and I was watching them through a telescope. There was like a 45 minute period when I was convinced they only made sounds when I looked directly at them. It was like silence, music, silence, music.

David Bowie vs. the Powerpuff Girls
The Museum of Television and Radio had dueling exhibits, one featuring tons of David Bowie documentaries and the other celebrating the Cartoon Network. Needless to say, much time was spent.

That’s about it. And yes, Jeremy, I got lucky….

2002-06-19T10:17:00.000-04:00
My head still hurts.

What the fuck? Maybe I'm coming down with something. Energy low. Need Red Bull. Need Mountain Dew. Need... a nice long nap.

Evil Virgin does not understand these pressures. I wonder if I started emailing her the studies that show naps improve productivity, if she'd institute a policy, office-wide, mandatory for all drones. I'd have to send them from someone else's account, of course.

That would be a glorious day.

2002-06-18T12:31:00.000-04:00
I am back, and my head is still killing me. There are BAD PEOPLE out there who are my friends, and they make young innocent creatures like me do horrible, evil things. Awful things. Terrible things.

And I will never, ever do it again. I hope.

In other words, it was a hell of weekend.

Random memory: thank you Mr. DJ, for this band. How can I explain it? Gothic surf. Just like Ben & Jerry's - take the best flavors of the mid-90s, and spin them together into one big ripple. Vampire Beach Babes.

I'll let you know when the rest of the blur subsides into a meaningful sequence of events. I remember looking really hot in a borrowed corset. And I remember a very big house party at a very big house. Or was it an apartment building?

Evil, evil children....

2002-06-14T10:47:00.000-04:00
New York weekend!

I will eat a HOT DOG!

I leave you with this Farmer's thought for the day: if frankfurters and hamburgers are all-American foods, why are they named after cities in Germany?

2002-06-12T15:17:00.000-04:00
These are the sorts of things Jeremy emails me at work. Pictures of Germans studing plasticised corpses.

Oddly enough, I've felt like that split open person many a time....

2002-06-11T13:14:00.000-04:00
So.... I'm thinking about drinks for this party I'm having next saturday. I mean obviously you need a bottle of gin and a bottle vodka. And you let people bring beer as they will, but I'm feeling like I might want to have something already mixed up in large quantities. Like say margaritas or long island ice tea. I mentioned this musing to Dumb Bastard and he said that back in Wisconsin they drink something charmingly called "Moose Piss." Apparently it's named for the way it looks, not the way it tastes. Here's the recipe:

Ingredients:
1 qt Vodka
1 qt Light rum
1 qt Dark rum
1 qt Whiskey
1 qt Peach schnapps
1 gal Sprite (or similar soda)
1 gal Lemonade
Mixing instructions:
Get a clean five gallon pail and mix all the ingredients together with a ladle. Serve with or without a little ice.

Any other suggestions???

2002-06-10T09:11:00.000-04:00
All right, don't make too big a deal out of this, but I let Bad Friend Leslie make me go see Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood this weekend. She was just all, "Colin won't go with me and I don't have any other close girlfriends!" So, there you go. I did it. I'm not proud, but I went.

Sandra Bullock was typically plastic. Not bad plastic, just plastic. Ellen Burstyn, of course, kicked all kinds of ass. Watching her as the pill-popping drunk in this film though really made me long to see her in Requiem for a Dream again. Or Tropic of Cancer for that matter. Hell, even the Exorcist.

Other than that, not much happening. Drank margaritas after the movie. Spent sunday over Jeremy's apartment, eating corn and trying to sink the 18th hole on Super Monkey Golf.

So, what did you do on your weekend?

2002-06-07T15:30:00.000-04:00
testing: does this commenting thing work?

2002-06-06T10:09:00.000-04:00
Jeremy proving that he has far too much time on his hands at work, has run the last few days of my journal through some ultra crazy translations website, trimmed it a bit, and added line breaks to turn it into a poem.

For reasons we cannot comprehend, the translating turned my blood into alcohol. Jeremy insists this is some form of minor miracle.

Here's the poem:

Nonbad grass, I the virgin, who does not kill the virgin.
It is not the song, of that who we who sing,
slaughters of the virgin!
The poetry, of that gives return today:

It decided this fine week to the wars of the star of palisade,
because George Lucas is a defective man.
And indicated Bastarddeaf one was.

Why I know this? Why I know exactly this?

Ugh. Goddess is exhausted sufficiently very
for the ascent of the base
for the fine week.
I think, because I lost three which alcohol approximately
I paints the end to ruin
to decree not to indicate,
on the cloth of the bath
and slight whole black of the silk of the order.

Unhappily this means I again to the work.
Great excuses of and with my old friend of the university of
(previous-small friend of ahem he...)
Grant to lack to the relative connection!
They appreciate, expensive!

Day: It knows his parts appropriate of sex.
On the other hand this admits for the work
would be delayed tomorrow
like my proprietor (seriously pure he),
because I have an appointment of the attention with my doctor.

The fact asked to me that which it was incorrect,
therefore I that has said.
"Oh, stopped of the hopes right."

Examinación of fêz
of the preparations for the surface and fiancé,
to the interior for the drinks of the alcoholic one.
I do not have a plant.
With oxygen and the beauty the end to give the form some.

If in a monkey the end invests I?
Or an aquarium totally of seahorses?
Or they are a person of the tail?

I imagine that a person of the tail could be.

2002-06-05T16:54:00.000-04:00

You have high standards for yourself, and try desperately to live up to them. But when you are unable to reach those goals, you fall into a deep depression. People see you as a brilliant person, yet inside, you are full of self-doubt and fear of failure. You need to set more reasonable goals.

Your song is: About to Crash

Which degree of inner turbulence are you?

This quiz was made by Dionae

Finally, one I can live with.

2002-06-05T11:15:00.000-04:00
I will not kill the virgin

I will not kill the virgin.

This is the song that we all sing,

I will not kill the virgin!

Feeling much better today, thanks. The poetry that turns me on today: the Latin names of houseplants.
Spathiphyllum. Mmmmm. Aspidistra.

This weekend, I have decided to picket Star Wars, for George Lucas is an evil man. And Dumb Bastard said he was going. Why do I know this? Why do I even know this?

2002-06-03T10:54:00.000-04:00
Ugh. Have been pretty much laid up in bed for the weekend. I feel like I lost about three pints of blood, not to mention ruining two bath towels and a set of black silk sheets.

Fortunately, though, things have righted themselves without any kind of surgery or other manhandling. Unfortunately, that means I'm back at work.

And big apologies to my old college friend (ahem... ex-boyfriend) Grant for missing his wedding! Love you, dear! Congratulations!

2002-05-30T17:24:00.000-04:00
Farmer's Thought of the Day: Know your own sex parts.

Example: Told my boss (the evil virgin) I would be late for work tomorrow, because I have an emergency appointment with my doctor. She asked me what was wrong, so I told her. I have a ruptured ovarian cyst.

It's nothing super crazy. I've gotten them before, but there's been a lot of bleeding to I wanted to get it taken care of. My boss, upon hearing this, said, "Oh, I hope your ear will be all right." I said, "well, it's an ovarian cyst." She said, "well, it sounds terrible. My ears hurt just thinking about it."

Now, is there some part of the ear that sounds like "ovary" or "ovarian"??? Or was this some form of puritan politness that she couldn't acknowledge a medical condition below the neck?

OR (and I think this is the correct answer) does my boss (who is a woman for god's sake, albeit one who's never had sex) not know what ovaries are where they are located or what they do? Can someone be so ignorant of what is at the core of them? Would it have helped if I pointed? Should I have showed her?

Ugh....

2002-05-29T13:52:00.000-04:00
True friend Dana has made airplane arrangements, and promised to chip in for booze, so party is now officially happening on the second to last saturday in June. This will be my first party ever in this apartment. That's probably why I am in fear of having people see where I live.

I have no plants. People are supposed to have plants in their homes, right? Some to do with oxygen and beauty, I think I've heard. Hmmmm..... must get plants.

What about pets? Should I invest in a monkey? Or an aquarium full of seahorses? Or am I a snake person? I think I could be a snake person. Of course, I always have my butterflies, but I think pets officially stop being pets when you put them in to a Killing Jar.

2002-05-28T23:04:00.000-04:00
So, Farmer's Thought for the Day: If you're a bitch (or bastard), then at least have the courage of your convictions to be so all of the time, and not in waves. Because otherwise you're not even being a decent bitch.

The Evil Virgin brought in donuts to work today, and was all smiles whenever I saw her. I, of course, being a human being and not a machine, treated her with the icy silence of a smart person that has been called stupid by a stupid person. Did I eat the donuts? Yes. Half a jelly. But only because it was the kind with the granulated sugar on the outside, instead of the powered stuff. Did I say thank you? No! This is how I shall have my revenge. By being... well... rude.

Not trusted that the Evil Virgin and I were back on good footing, I didn't dare update the old blog until I got home tonight. Instead, went out for drinks with The Dumb Bastard, who, at least has the moral fortitude to remain a bastard.

Oooh, the sauce for the vietnamese spring rolls I had for dinner just gave me the most fragrent belch. And on that note...

Good night.

2002-05-26T23:36:00.000-04:00
I am so psychic!

Yes, it was Jeremy calling last night, and yes, he did want me to go out drinking. So, I found a suitable pair of black stockings (only slightly smelly) and a black and white pvc dress that I figure I can wear for at most one more week before I have to go on a diet. Unfortunately my favorite pair of boots are still broken. Obviously, I was looking like quite a catch.

We went to Man Ray on Brookline so Jeremy could look for his ex-, whom we shall hereforto refer to as: Johnny Feel Good. They were playing 70s music in one of the rooms, so of course Colin and Bad Friend Leslie were both there. It wasn't my scene but at least the music was too loud.

Jeremy ended up dancing all night with some guy who wasn't Johnny Feel Good, but who nevertheless made him feel all right. When their future life together become reasonably assured, I caught a ride home with Bad Friend Leslie, who made me promise (in front of people) to hang out with her, her brother, and Colin to play "Space Risk" with them the following day, which is/was today. (At which point I realize I really suck at conveying any sort of chronology in blogs!)

So, despite managing to keep hold of Africa for most of the game and keeping Leslie's brother from holding onto the Moon, and despite cackling gleefully, "I will hurt you! FROM THE MOON!" I still lost.

Now, I am sitting here at the computer, drinking some green tea, and fantasizing about sleep.

Good night, my children.

2002-05-25T19:28:00.000-04:00
Well, it's a little after 7:00 in the goddamnd evening and I've just woken up. My head is no longer pounding, but it does feel oddly swollen. Ate some lovely cheese-flavored crackers, and a quick scan of the kitchen suggests I'll be breakfasting on ramen noodles (spicy chicken flavor). Want to hear about my friday?

Got bitched out my boss yesterday for screwing up a spreadsheet. Wouldn't be so bad except she did it in front of the whole office. She was so mad she was shaking. Shakey, no-ass, 50-year old virgin! She's all like telling me fifteen times which two columns I left off of the spreadsheet and how someone (not me apparently, because I can no longer be trusted) is going to have to go through all those files again to finish my work. Then she was like I was going to have to take a course in Excell if I wanted to keep my job. It was all I could do not to tell her how much I didn't want to keep my job.

The one good thing was that after everybody left, Nobles, the guy who cleans up our offices, saw I was upset and offered to take me out for drinks. We've talked about the Celtics and movies and Buffy a hundred times, but I never really thought about what he did after work. Turned out he was really cool.

We went to this bar that I would have never gone to in a million years. I guess it had a new orleans theme to it or something. It was all bright and there was peppy blues playing on the jukebox. People were drinking beer and eating fried food. I wished Jeremy could see it. He would have fainted. Fainted then ran home and got his camera so he could document the place.

I had this sandwich that had every kind of lunchmeat in the world in it. I couldn't eat most of it, but there was this olive tapenade stuff in it that was like an orgy in my mouth.

We drank pabst blue ribbon and did shots of southern comfort and talked about my job and talked about his cousin who is a boxer and he flirted with me and I said he was too old for me but I flirted back anyway cause he was really, really nice. And I got really plastered. I think we played pool, though I don't remember ever having a cue stick in my hand.

Got home around three or four, and the rest, as they say, is history. Phone's ringing. If it's Jeremy, I might be going out again. Bye.

2002-05-23T10:46:00.000-04:00
So, I missed David Blaine last night, but I tell you, I really wish I could jump off a tall building sometimes.
R., hereafter referred to as "dumb bastard," was at ManRay with his new tool. He was wearing his dust mask, which is too bad, because she could have used it to cover her face.
Jeremy gave Dumb Bastard the evil eye last night, but he didn't even notice it, because, of course, he's a dumb bastard.
Maybe I should give that place a rest. I just hate being driven out of my one-time favorite place by him and his sstupid ssorority ssisters.

The Dumb Bastard.

There. I feel much better now. You'd think with all the colleges letting out, traffic would get better, but the roads are still packed. Nearly got nailed crossing the street to get to work this morning.
I blame, of course, the Dumb Bastard. He is every bad driver in this city. He is their King.
King Bad Driver Dumb Bastard.

Oh, that feels much better.
I should do this every morning.

2002-05-22T12:06:00.000-04:00
Got email from true friend Dana today. Claims she's visiting Boston at the end of June. Claims she's staying at my place. Claims I made some drunken promise back in college that she if she ever came up to Boston she would not only have a place to stay, but that I would throw a party in her honor.

College now seems like quite a long time ago.

2002-05-22T10:46:00.000-04:00
Farmer's thought for the day: if goth was the new mod, then what is the new goth?

Because I fear the old one is getting tired.

2002-05-21T18:14:00.000-04:00
There. I said it.

Mom, if you're reading this, this never happened to me.

No, really. I swear.

2002-05-21T18:03:00.000-04:00
This is a poem by Elissa Wald.
I'm beginning to really like her.

Meeting the Master
by Elissa Wald

"Beware the fury of a patient man." John Walden

I dreamed you had the patience of a prayer:
You let me memorize your open hand
Before you closed a fist around my hair.

I read a warning written down somewhere:
"Beware the fury of a patient man."
I dreamed you had the patience of a prayer.

I'll swear to the truth if you'll take a dare,
Plead guilty if you'll force me to the stand,
And close a knowing fist around my hair.

Yours is the rhythm of a rocking chair:
Steady as an hourglass spilling sand.
I dreamed your patience would make saints despair

I've yearned to cringe beneath your level stare,
My wish has been to be at your command -
To kiss the iron fist around my hair.

I've waited for years, searching everywhere,
But only you have made me understand:
Patience in a slave is itself a prayer,
And answered by your fist around my hair.

2002-05-21T17:54:00.000-04:00
Let's see if this works.

To new beginnings?