Imagine: coming home from a hard day of work and cranking up the MIDI files.

Everything I've said about her is true. Her calendar tables are bloated like an over-ripe tick in a dog's ear.



I


t looks like Elly, much like Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction, has become a part of my life for the time being. I'm archiving her pages just in case I need to refer to them some day, perhaps in a court of law. Her latest journal entry¹ uses many unkind words to describe me, some of which are demonstrably untrue. I wouldn't even mention this were it not for the fact that she has told both me and my ISP that she plans to sue us both for libel and slander. The defense against such a suit is the truth. Everything I've said about her is true. Her calendar tables are bloated like an over-ripe tick in a dog's ear. Any jury with less than a T1 connection would have to agree with me on that. I never criticized her content; indeed I actually praised it! I didn't even criticize her personality until after many attacks against me as a person, and then I used the terms "fool" and "bully," both of which seem appropriate. If you want to see where I supposedly libeled and slandered her, check out my June 14th entry. Hortense was pretty rough on her, huh? About the only effect her flying into a rage has had so far has been to:
• increase the entertainment quality of my email
• increase my hit count enormously
• increase the number of people linking to my page(s)
• increase my fame (or infamy, depending how you see it) on the web

You can imagine how much additional fame, hits and accolades would result from a court case. I'd be on the staff of Hotwired in no time. Even if her jury consisted of Theresa Jordan, Rudy, Cardigan and Scooter clones and she won a settlement, she'd have trouble collecting anything. I have absolutely no assets except a 1975 Dodge Dart. You'd think someone with 578 awards wouldn't be taking the "threat" I pose seriously. Her Stalinistic attempt to suppress me hints at insecurity, perhaps the result of an unhappy Middle School experience.

Interestingly, I notice that next to her email hypertexts, she now has the line "Please note that feedback on the online diary is neither sought nor welcomed." Perhaps the webmistress of NARC should also mention that she stands prepared to sue any criticizer of her site for slander and libel. Her heavy-handed tactics rather remind me of McDonald's, which is fully in keeping with her bloated opinion of her value to the web.

A word to Elly's supposed whiz-bang lawyer: charge by the hour and make her shut up now. She's making her case impossible to defend. But if you stay on her good side, she'll keep the money rolling in. It seems as though her inclination to launch doomed legal battles is an indelible aspect of her neurosis.

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I really need to find some better friends who are reasonably entertaining but who don't feel compelled to send me to the hospital to show their love for me.

M


y left knee and right ankle are both injured internally from Leah's goofy show of bottle throwing last night. It seems now to me that she's out to prove how hardcore she is or something. It's a nuisance, because it's so destructive while not being particularly entertaining. I'm actually having my first real thoughts of wanting to move out. Our house is ironically both boring and punishing. Unfortunately, I'm married to Leah even more than Matthew Hart is; we're both on a lease together. I hope she learns to excercise restraint, but I have my doubts. I really need to find some better friends who are reasonably entertaining but who don't feel compelled to send me to the hospital to show their love for me.

I never knew such violence at any prior time in my life. Sara Poiron's violence was so ineffectual it was just funny. Theresa was pretty bad, but the damage was always superficial. But here we have Leah throwing (and using as clubs) big wine bottles. I'm too old and too pacifistic for this ridiculous "I'm a tough girl" routine.

You just can't hit a guy in the kneecap Nancy Kerrigan Style and then expect him to be nice to you the next day.

I'm hobbling around work, responding to supportive email about the Elly situation while cursing Leah. You just can't hit a guy in the kneecap Nancy Kerrigan Style and then expect him to be nice to you the next day. I can't think of a suitable retaliation except to just avoid her for awhile. She obviously enjoys my company a lot, but she's going to have to change before I'm willing to relate to her as before.

---

Then there's a range of people who look as though God has blessed them with extra chromosomes.

H


ere I am at the Mudhouse, updating this with Telnet. You know what? Today must be an International Deformed Person's holiday on the Downtown Mall. All the freaks are out and about enjoying the hot sunny summer weather. There's a man whose head is clearly not in the middle of his shoulders. There's a very skinny older couple, but the man has an enormous puffy hairdo and a big salt & pepper beard. He looks like a dandylion gone to seed. Then there's a range of people who look as though God has blessed them with extra chromosomes. The county fairs of my youth used to be wonderful places to view the breadth of the human form, but most of the variety there appeared to result from farm accidents. I'm not being deliberately cruel to say these things. Let's face it; we all have a certain fascinated revulsion when gazing upon the deformed.

---

W


ell, I picked up a six pack of Red Hook and drank three just now while working on a thorny interfacing problem between a Cyrix 486 and an MFM hard drive. The other three Red Hooks are, even as I type, in the downstairs refrigerator with a note saying
If you ask, the answer will be "Get a Job"
If you don't ask, I cut your throat as you sleep


My psycho friends and even the houseguests know better than to fuck with that. Everybody, even Elly, knows I'm a raving lunatic.

I realized today that I don't want to see anybody in my house. First I put them off by riding my bike to the Downtown Mall. Now I whiz past them on my way to my room. Leah and Matthew were my favourite people, but since last night, with Leah on my shit list, everyone rides on her coat tails. I want a personal social revolution. I want to get laid too. Somehow it seems like something that would exorcise my demons.

This entry has been composed in more places than any other one I have ever done and it's still not over.

---

There's the communion of drinking expensive beer. And then there's the extreme unction of the shit.

B


ack at my house, there was a small group of the usuals hanging out in a silent room. There was no music, no movies. The only exceptional sound was coming from Zachary, who periodically would roar at the top of his lungs. He was as drunk as ever, much more so than anyone else. I've decided that he's a big baby. It's the opposite of neoteny: he has all the physical traits of an adult while having the basic emotional traits of an infant. Every bodily function for him is a holy sacrament. There's the eucharist of fucking. There's the communion of drinking expensive beer. And then there's the extreme unction of the shit.

Matthew had prepared some vegetarian sloppy joe, made mostly with textured vegetable protein. I had one sandwich of that and then went directly to bed. It was only 11pm.

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¹For a supposedly "accomplished webmistress" she's amazingly clueless when it comes to designing pages that can be viewed with Microsoft's Internet Explorer.

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