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Positive, Curious, and Cold Images

Timothy Ballan © 2009

Contents

Acknowledgements

4

Disclaimer

5

I. Cold Images

Replaced Moments

7

Cold Images

24

Grisworld

31

Closing Images

37

Unreplaced Moments

47

II. Curious Images

Unnatural Images

54

Curious Exchanges

59

Foreign Images

126

Unlikely Encounters

131

III. Positive Images

Somewhere in Space, Somewhere in Time

156

Shimmering Fluorescent Pools

158

The Old Storyteller

160

Positive Images

165

The Island in the Swamp

171

About the Author

173

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank Adam Kukulka for help proofreading this book.

Disclaimer

I refuse to use quotation marks in such a way that envelopes any commas or periods not suggested by the quoted material. For example, quoting a child saying the words "I don't want to go now", I did not put the comma within the quotation marks, as the comma is not suggested by the child's words. On the other hand, I will end this next sentence in a different way. As someone once said, "Use your head, not your rule book." With a similar emphasis on clarity over convention, I also follow dashes with commas at times. Even if preceded by a dash––as I will now demonstrate––, I retain commas that retain usefulness. Beyond just punctuation, though, I'd hope abundant clarity pervades my writing, from word order, to sentence structure, to overall presentation of ideas.

Cold Images

Replaced Moments

A bodiless entity leisurely swoops through outer space, crossing

immense distances in effortless leaps and swinging loops, but it sees

no planets, stars, or galaxies that would be familiar to inhabitants of Earth. After a few minutes, over a period only two seconds long, and with the loud scratchiness of a video tape suddenly rewound, the entity views its entire journey backward, a journey that spanned near-countless years even while traveling at marvelous speeds. These two seconds end with an abrupt take to a blackness that lingers for several seconds before we peer through the eyes of this entity at what was the onset of its journey.

*

We are in the warm kitchen of a middle-class American household.

A little boy, who appears intensely sobered and reluctant to speak,

with eyes often fixed downward, sits eating cereal while his mother distractedly organizes items on the kitchen counter while facing away from the boy. There is some predictable talk between a kindergartener on his way to school and his mother. However, after a fairly long pause, the child says, "I'm a very bad boy, Mommy".

"Why honey? You're not a bad boy," sounding distracted.

After another fairly long pause, he says, "Mommy—". His mother turns her head toward him. Continuing, he says, "I'm sorry," deeply seriously and deliberately, raising his eyes.

Now noticing her son's grave seriousness, his mother stops her hands from organizing dishes by the sink and cupboards (which face toward the fairly busy street in front of their house). Putting the dishes down, she says, "Honey, oh, honey—what makes you say that?", as she hurries to sit by him.

The child seems intensely ashamed and hesitantly states, "Last

night."

"What about last night?" Receiving no answer, "Last night you slept in our room, remember? You didn't do anything bad " Noting no change in her son's contrite positioning, "Timmy, you slept like an angel. You didn't do anything, honey. It must've been a bad dream." After a while, "Did you have a bad dream, Timmy?"

"No." After a little pause, "It wasn't a dream."

"Honey. What do you think happened?"

I'm "

raising his eyes as before.

sorry, Mommy," once again deeply sincere and deliberate,

"What is it, honey?"

Taking a long time to begin, "Mommy—I hit you! I didn't even mean to. It was my hand—my hand hit you and I felt angry like I meant to but I didn't mean to! I don't know what happened! I'm crazy, Mommy! I'm crazy!" He ends up buried in his mother's shirt, hugging her and crying.

Intensely concerned, "Timmy—Timmy, Timmy—you didn't hit me! It's okay. It was just a bad, bad dream. It's okay, honey. You're not crazy, you're not crazy—"

Timmy joltingly backs away from his mother but then slowly walks

toward the door, to the left of the sink and cupboards. Still facing

her, looking terrified, "No—no, no—no because it wasn't a dream "

I'm crazy, Mommy,

His mother slowly approaches him and, once near enough to him,

moves to embrace him, but he immediately bolts to push past the

The entity's perspective follows Timmy on

unlatched storm door.

his way out onto the street as, after a moment stunned, his mother

screams out to him, horrified, "Timmy! me!"

You didn't hit

Timmy!

Continuing at a panicked and determined speed, Timmy is now nearing the middle of the street, where we soon hear the screeching of tires as the perspective takes to Timmy's shocked pose. At the sound of a screaming child, the perspective takes to his mother sitting up forcefully in bed and with a sharp gasp. The perspective widens to show her husband awakening, but much more peacefully.

"What is it honey?", he says, half-dazedly.

Still catching her breath, his wife quickly shifts her body over to face the window on her side, the right side of the bed, sounding and looking relieved when she sees an empty road below. Horror once again overcomes her features, though, as she bolts for the bedroom door, though she is held back by her husband who is more awake by now.

"Woah, woah, woah, honey—what's the matter?"

Intensely preoccupied but slowly brought to a clear mind, "Is "

Timmy

okay?

The husband turns her around to show

Timmy sleeping soundly on a cot to the left of the door, opposite their bed. The husband leads his wife to sit on the bed in order to catch her breath.

"Yes

He's right

there."

I just had the

most horrible dream," but ending with no laugh and appearing resistant to further discussing the dream.

Beginning to laugh, "That was really silly of me

"Well

",

motioning for her to tell about the dream.

"No

adamantly.

It was nothing", shaking her head and speaking more

"Didn't quite seem like nothing to me." Climbing back into bed,

"But if you'd rather not talk about it, I'll respect that back to sleep."

so I can go

While much calmer, his wife still seems preoccupied, her glance focused through the window onto the street below.

Probably noticing his wife's persisting unease, but apparently genuinely motivated to speak otherwise, the husband sits back up

and excitedly. His wife turns around and listens as he talks, visibly cheered. "Well, actually, if you're not going to tell your dream, I

think you should hear one of my dreams

an amazing experience! This time I wasn't just flying over the

ocean; I was flying through space! It was great

feeling of being lost in space

if I was experiencing the inexperiencable

throughout the universe, not knowing where I was going

think of it, the TV show seems to rather trivialize the idea of

actually being lost in space

And, you know, Grace, it seems that just because something is a movie or TV show, even if it isn't filmed as cartoonishly as Lost in Space was, people tend to think of sci-fi concepts as something impractical and worth nothing but entertainment for computer geeks."

It was incredible! It was

There was this

but not like the TV show—it felt as

flying for eternity

Come to

it's actually quite a romantic concept

Through her laughter, "No––I mean it. It annoys me. Any premise

And people

should open their minds and embrace the imagination behind these

films and shows. Imagination has power. It gives the world such a

even if imagination leads

sense of freedom and limitlessness

somewhere scary––that's when you can feel most alive."

for any sci-fi film or show is possible on some level

The entity's perspective began to close in on the husband throughout his talking, but before this, his wife was shown to have formed into

a comfortable position, with a warm smile on her face, glad to have her mind taken from her dream. After he's finished talking, the perspective soon takes to a close zoom on a fuzzy and nearly colorless television screen, focusing on the moving lips of a man being interviewed, who has a shadowed face and distorted voice.

*

The man is responding to a prompt. Fear is in his words, discussing

a subject that evidently deeply bothers, perplexes, and chills him, "I was in the middle of the woods, a day's hike away from society. I had special permission to camp there from the state—there were no other people around. It was night. I had set up my tent and was sleeping in it—soundly. Until I was woken up—by children's voices. What would children be doing in the middle of these woods

at night? I still can't imagine—but I have to believe they were there.

I've never hallucinated before or after then, that I know

I have to

they weren't just

of, and there was no reason for me to

talking quiet and hushed as you might expect. No. They were

screaming—screaming with joy and laughter, as if skipping through

a park on a sunny day. This wasn't an area to be doing so. It's bear country—that's what I was afraid of most before this—having to

But there were so many children—so many of their Why would they have been so happy? How? No one

believes me

I don't believe that they were ghosts; I could see their

well-formed shadows and hear their sturdy steps––maybe thirty

children

I even believe in ghosts, but there was nothing to

face a bear voices

But

convince me that these were ghosts. My only explanation is that there was somehow an overlapping of two different times or

places

I don't know. I can't explain it more than that."

He speaks deeply sincerely throughout, and, at times, sounds deeply moved and impassioned. By the end of his words, the perspective has slowly widened to frame the television set, which soon breaks

into uncomfortably loud snowy static. After a few more seconds, the perspective takes to an angle where the television set (which is on a square metal wheeled stand) can still be seen. We can now also see many students sitting at desks, though, and a man standing next to the television who appears to be the teacher.

This high school classroom is filled with seemingly fairly intelligent students, though most appear neither serious nor focused. Many seem at least somewhat affected by the film, though.

"Jon—would you get the lights?"

The perspective does not move from its position, but we see the lights go back on. The perspective's angle then shifts slightly to show a girl sleeping next to Jon, who has returned to his seat. Those around her snicker and wake her up, but the teacher doesn't notice. The perspective then takes to a new angle and freely shifts around after that.

The teacher is very charismatic but also exhibits an intensely business-like demeanor in his words and actions. He says, "This is

a very interesting example of how our culture defines 'possibility'

and what's 'just

What

do you people think?"

The students, in general, sound unmoved by and fairly apathetic toward this prompt. One student responds saying, "Spooky

Others

a

Another says, "It reminds me of The Blair Witch Project

respond laughing and commenting, one saying, "That's a classic

classic formula for emoting fear! I swear it's a classic, genious "

horror film

".

Sorry—I just get excited over that movie

Teacher: "C'mon, guys

be an overlapping of two different times or places? Maybe there was a park in the place where this guy had a tent two hundred years before. And, maybe two hundred years before, the area was more of

Do you believe that there could

Think

a field and there were no bears there, and there were a bunch of kids playing around for some reason. Maybe time was playing out some

Or, times or And/or,

maybe these were ghosts

sort of 'repercussion' of some instance from the past places sort of 'combined' somehow for the moment

Or,

is he just 'crazy'?"

"I don't believe in all that 'hypothetical' stuff

"

"Yeah", etc.

"But, maybe these things are possible another student says.

Who really knows?",

"Yeah, but it's unlikely."

Teacher: "Why is it 'unlikely'

mean, what constitutes possibility versus outlandishness?"

How do we define possibility?

I

Some student replies, "I think possibility is constrained by what's

predictable

what's expected."

Teacher: "But, how do we know that we aren't missing important information here, or that we aren't at least partially wrong in our assumptions about what's predictable, what's expected?"

The student responds, "Well

"

Teacher:

existence of things thought 'unlikely' relatively recently in the past––that the internet is possible, that we are made of atoms, and that we are the same atoms as the stars. And think about all the things we may never prove

of how far science has come, to prove the

"

Think

"Okay,

I'm

going

to

hand

out

a

poem.

It's

called

'Jabberwocky'."

(He

says

"Jabberwocky"

in

an

affected,

purposefully silly way.) "Hopefully some of you will see a connection with what we're talking about here."

As papers are handed around, students display smiles and knowing quiet laughter upon apparently recognizing parts of the poem. Some hum songs from Disney's Alice in Wonderland. Others talk, their words on the subject of the poem's popularity and its associations.

The girl who fell asleep raises her hand. Her name is Lisa. The forlornness in her face and in her mannerisms is mirrored by her dress and unkemptness.

"Yes, Lisa?"

"Umm

I think there's a misprint

"

"Where?

"

Laughingly and a little sarcastically, "Well, it says, 'tumtum tum'! I "

think it's supposed to be 'tumtum tree'

Chuckling, the teacher responds, "That's clever, adding in another "

nonsense word

Students around are laughing. One says, "Hey everyone! Lisa's got a sense of humor after all!"

Lisa looks genuinely perplexed and ends up saying, "Okay, joke's

over

Shouldn't it be 'tree'?"

More seriously, the teacher says, "That's enough Lisa. She brings up an interesting point, though––however, not what our focus should be right now. Carroll used a pun by taking 'tum' which is a noun and morphing it into a nonsense adjective based on the noun Kind of like saying 'deskdesk desk', pretending 'deskdesk' is a word.

He's kind of poking fun at the English language's re-use of many words for both adjectives and nouns, and homophones in general

Okay

Who wants to read it?"

A student interjects, "I will", as the teacher nods for them to begin reading, but Lisa interrupts. Rolling her eyes, visibly annoyed, Lisa

says, "Real funny. Make me think I'm in another reality joke "

I get the

Students around laugh a little at her but also seem generally increasingly annoyed.

Teacher: "Lisa—that's enough

Go ahead Bridgette."

The student reads:

"''Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe.

'Beware the Jabberwock, my son! The jaws that bite, the claws that catch! Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun The frumious Bandersnatch!'

He took his vorpal sword in hand:

Long time the manxome foe he sought–– So rested he by the Tumtum tum, And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood, The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame, Came whiffling through the tulgey wood, And burbled as it came!

One two! One two! And through and through The vorpal blade went snicker-snack! He left it dead, and with its head He went galumphing back.

'And hast thou slain the Jabberwock? Come to my arms, my beamish boy! O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!' He chortled in his joy. 'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe.'"

There is laughter and side-commenting throughout the poem reading, as has been common throughout what we have seen of this class. By now, though, nearing the end of the class period, some students have actually already begun preparing to leave, and some even since the middle of the poem reading. The teacher says, after pausing for a bit, but in a hurried voice, "Impressions?" He continues the rest of the lesson rushedly.

"Well

it doesn't really make sense

"

Teacher: "Oh but it does. That just takes a little analysis and

We'll talk about interpretation of it another time. But,

let's talk about connecting the impressions we get to 'possibility' and 'craziness'. You're right, Calvin. It doesn't seem to make sense. Why is that?"

thinking

Another student, "Well, it's not using normal words wrote this sounds like they're crazy."

Whoever

Teacher: "But, like I said, this poem actually does make sense upon close reading. It isn't just 'possibly' coherent, it is certifiably so."

"So, it's like walking by that person in the video who might not actually be crazy, but assuming he's crazy––"

Teacher: Excitedly and somewhat surprisedly, "Good! Yet we don't

usually think to––or don't have the time or energy to––question our "

Seeing more and more students preparing

is what I wanted to end

on: In poetry––and life––, things may appear wacky or dismissible,

But don't question too much, or

you just might go crazy! Okay––we're just about out of time. See you guys next week; just make sure you've got your homework down—it's on the board."

but they may be actually sensible

assumptions, do we?

their things to leave, hurrying more, "

This

Some students have left even before the teacher finishes. But Lisa has remained silent and visibly angered since she last spoke. Finally collecting her things, she leaves the classroom in barely-suppressed rage.

The perspective now takes to black for a moment before it shows the inside of the main entrance to Lisa's house. We see the closed front door of an apparently lower-income family. There is enough room so that there's no need to zoom out as Lisa comes through the door, but the perspective moves around freely after this.

From another room, her mother calls apathetically and ritualistically, "How was your day?"

Sounding deeply angry but accommodatingly polite, "Everyone's against me".

The mother sounds neither concerned nor sympathetic. "Ahh

old teenage blues

Go take a nap or something."

The

"

Thanks

again

for

your

great

parenting

skills,"

sounding

unaffected as she climbs the stairs to her room.

Nearly unmoved, "Shut the fuck up, Lisa. Just keep it to yourself."

The perspective takes to black for a moment and then to Lisa and her mother eating dinner.

After a long cold silence, the mother says, "Why don't you say something?"

Why "

do we even eat together?"

More such bickering follows, interspersed with cold silence. After a long pause, though, the mother feigns sweetness in a clearly sarcastically-offered comment: "Well, at least we don't have to look at the bare tums anymore. Don't you just love spring?"

The daughter looks shocked and deeply, deeply angered, but doesn't scream. "Mom—did you talk to Mr. Borwig recently?"

Uninterestedly, "I never talk to any of your teachers. I?"

Why would

Lisa's eyes widen as she seems to grow in anger until she spills into

a rage, screaming, "Why does everyone think it's funny to fucking

You!", pointing

loathingly and accusingly at her mother, her rage sputtering into

utter disgust. She tremblingly walks out the front door it, slamming

it behind her. The mother looks a little shocked. The perspective

stays focused on the mother and the surrounding room where they ate, not moving as Lisa leaves. After the slam is heard, the

mess with me! Why all today all of a sudden!

perspective remains still for a few seconds before taking to black, immediately fading up to the next scene.

*

An apparently wealthy large family is eating dinner, with at least

three generations represented at the table. They have a long but sincerely pleasant and loving conversation. In Bangladeshi accents, they discuss subjects such as how the "tums are beginning to bud" and how beautiful spring is. After a while, they say how tired most of them are from such a "long day".

As they all begin to disperse, the perspective takes to the sixty- something grandfather reading in bed with his wife. The maroon and golden bedroom is arranged with several tall and intricately- decorated shelves housing thousands of trinkets and mementos of possibly high monetary value. They talk about how "that was a nice meal" and speak other pleasantries. The wife says, "I can't wait to see how many more buds will be on the tums tomorrow."

Kiddingly, "I'm sure they're all planning on giving you a pleasant surprise. I'm sure they're all busy planning the number of new buds right now, darling."

"Oh, stop it!

Maybe tums really do have feelings "

Maybe

they really are.

How would you know?

"That's right

scream when I axe at them, for one

How would I know for sure?

Well, they don't "

but maybe they're mute

They laugh and continue their good-natured bantering before kissing "goodnight" after the wife gets in bed and the lights are turned off. They laugh and sigh a little as they snuggle in but soon fall into the silence of sleep. After a while, there is a take to black, immediately fading up to the same room the next morning. They are still asleep though both seem to be smiling. They look deeply comfortable.

From the light shining through the trees outside their broad window, we see a reflection of unmistakably autumn-colored mostly red leaves throughout the room, but mainly on their bed. We cannot see this broad window, but we can see through a small window on the

same wall as their bed's headboard that the trees' leaves are near the peak of their change of color.

Still smiling, the husband wakes up first as we see him glance out the window and then comfortably "re-snuggle" in and hug his wife. He whispers, "The tums are even more beautiful than yesterday, Deary." The wife, also still smiling, awakes, turning her eyes to the window, but then slowly freezes, realizing a state of horrified shock. She stares out the window for nearly half a minute, then looks off for another long while, apparently thinking panickedly. She looks back outside and, after a little more time of thinking, says, seriously and breathing heavily, "Earl—take me to the hospital."

After having slowly zoomed in from showing her whole face, the perspective ends up focusing on one of her eyes, which is not looking directly ahead. After a few seconds, there is a take to a

similarly intense looking eye, positioned and looking as if it could be the same eye as the woman's. The take is nearly unnoticeable.

*

After a few seconds, the extremely agitated-looking eye turns to face forward, retaining its intensity. After a little while, the owner of the eye begins to speak. Throughout his speech, the perspective very slowly zooms out from his eye to reveal where he is. He is a rather young man, probably in his twenties, fairly attractive. He does not look or seem overly "insane", just incredibly confused and sincerely bothered and moved, but not rushedly or maniacally; he seems to be in a mood of residual but quieting fear from some disturbing incident.

"Have you ever gone on a picnic with a group of people, and then you go off on a walk with your two best friends—they've been best friends with you all your life—and you close your eyes as you all

rest on a hill, lied down, relaxed, and then you open your eyes, and

'They weren't there' everyone says—but they'd

always been there, and then they just were

they never existed.

I told them to

gone.

keep track of the path that we took because they knew that I have a

bad sense of direction, and we were going through the woods

only closed my eyes for a few seconds, so I was surprised that they

could've gotten away so fast. I thought it was a joke at first, that it was mean but still just a joke. After a while I thought they must've gotten lost because it started getting scary for me to be alone––on a big hill on the edge of a big and dead empty clearing in the middle of deep woods. Why would they leave me there all by myself? I tried to find my way back, but I got lost in the woods. I then thought maybe they were taken captive while they were hiding from me or when they got lost—like I was—and that I might stumble into their captor who might kill me. But, no. When I finally got home, I was called by one of the guys who was part of the picnic organizers. He was worried about me. He said he was worried for me being off on my own. 'But I wasn't on my own the whole time' I said. He was confused. He thought I was high when I mentioned my two

best friends. This really bothered me. I called the cops

said there were no records for my two best friends ever being born

I

and they

"It's like a glitch in the system, but it's nothing like The Matrix

I don't

think I'm crazy. Everything else in my life is normal, and was normal until they disappeared and never existed. Before this,

and about them—

it wasn't just me. But now everyone says 'they never were' " Clenchingly, "I tell you—it's a 'glitch in the system'—a sign of something greater "

everyone knew them—everyone talked to them

nothing like a movie

It's a sign of something greater

Seeming to shift focus for a bit, "I can't imagine that this has only happened to me. This type of glitch could be happening all the time. It happens to one person and everyone thinks they're crazy. If it happens to a group of people, it's mass hysteria. What if it

happens and people don't remember before the glitch that glitches could be happening constantly

That means

"Imagine a man is hosting a cocktail party. He turns from a conversation to sip a drink and suddenly he is sipping a drink in the same room, but now the room is empty. He doesn't notice. He only remembers a chain of events leading him to where he is now, and all the others at the party only remember chains of events leading them to where they are now.

"Imagine going to bed and waking up a different person. You wake

up with no memories of your prior self, only memories of being this new person. Everyone else only remembers you as this new person too. Who knows! Sure, it all seems crazy, but who says this couldn't constantly be happening? How would people know? Someone or something on a different level who could see it all

happening might say it was normal

somehow

and expected

Maybe someday I'll see

from this level somehow

until again finding his train of thought.

He repeatedly whispers "somehow"

and logical

What if I found this level "

"But it was just one little glitch in my life: the difference between two people existing and then not—two different possibilities of

what I thought life was

only be one reality, and it shouldn't change, and possibilities of

different versions of reality should only be in the mind—like they

used to be

how I thought life worked, but now I know. Now I know, though.

Things are not so clear and predictable. Glitches in the system "

disprove all that

With violently clenched features,

"Now I know: my experience is a sign of something greater—a

One

without any glitches

greater life system beyond what I can know or explain

But, they shouldn't switch—there should

It seems like common sense—like a law of physics for

Now I know

It's a sign of something greater

Maybe

"

By now the perspective has zoomed out so that we see where the speaker is sitting—on the floor of a padded cell.

"Would you shut up over there?! Cut your shit! I'm trying to go to

sleep over here! You're a fucking crackpot––admit it!"

The perspective has not changed—it continues to zoom out slowly. We see the man on the floor then seemingly "pick up where he left off", but now quietly mouthing to himself.

A perspective swinging through outer space is now faintly overlapped with the current picture. Slowly, the perspective of the padded cell fades out while this perspective that is dashing through unknown planets and stars comes into full clear view. This new perspective eventually fades to black, but only after several minutes.

Cold Images

We continue to hear a woman weeping as complete darkness slowly shifts into some dim light, revealing images of relatively nearby brown and red planets, stars, and asteroids. Some asteroids and one planet appear possibly even less than a mile away, compared to the edge of a brown-grey moon's cave from which we peer, and from which we hear the weeping woman further in. Darkness slowly reclaims our vision until light returns to illuminate black spiders along thick watery webs stretched across a steep but small flowery and bush-covered hill in front of a small old light blue cottage.

A few yards beyond the other side of the rain-pattered dirt road lie heavy aged doors built into another small hill. They open to invite us into an indoor pool area where tens of young students are being taught to swim. The pool itself is about two hundred by fifty feet long and wide, and maybe one hundred feet deep. A small, shy- looking boy is directed to dive in and not come up until he touches the bottom with his hand. We follow him through the increasingly greenish water, until his pace slows behind ours. We peer through a drain before he nears the bottom.

Passing through the drain, we are approaching the bottom of a dark ocean, where we can see in the distance below us a half- decomposed whale, with parts of its skeleton showing. While continuing to descend, we pass over it on our way to a far darker trench a small ways away. Soon, we only see black again, until we arrive in a place far deeper than the ocean.

We enter a large ballroom in a seventeenth century castle-like mansion. From the high ceiling hang ornate chandeliers just above the height of rounded windows at the room's edges overlooking a surrounding balcony and the nearby ocean's edge. One area of the room's edges contains no windows, however, just the pipes of an

organ played all the while by an old lady in flowing purple who stares into a mirror just below the organ pipes. Several nuns veiled in black stand silently in front of the organ and behind a woman in flowing white who appears to be giving birth. Several nuns in white are by her side, comforting her and attending to fluids spilling over the grey marble floor and down through a drain in the center of the ballroom.

We focus in on this drain that soon appears to be that of an old bathtub in a house whose walls are thin and rotting. Through a hole in the bathroom wall we see a child playing with his dirtied toys, surrounded by filth, trash, garbage, and a variety of broken things. On one still-standing table we see milk solidified in glasses, seafoam green and bright blue fur on salmon, a yogurty substance lined with black-brown film upon peaches, and fuzzy blue-green, slimy orange-yellow-white, and dark crusty purples upon old chicken fried rice mixed with tiny crawling white worms.

From beyond the kitchen we see some spark growing, quickly consuming the old wall in its way and catching onto the floor. Some of the child's toys near the fire begin to melt, as he crawls toward them, crying and screaming "No!". Soon all around is ablaze, part of a thickening screen of burning white. After a short while, the burning white becomes that of the sun.

We look back toward the ground that, though still puddled with pools from yesterday's heavy rain, allowed a small house to level into ash and grime except for most of a fireplace, some charred planks jutting out from the ground, and a few scattered mostly melted metal objects here and there. All directly outside of this small area remains unscathed, however. Nearby grass remains withered between soil corroded by a saltish substance seeping from under lichen-, moss-, and sluggy-brown fungus-covered rocks beneath a barely-recognizable molded and rotted, insect-infested barkless tree trunk.

From across the puddled dirt road, our eye is caught by a wild- haired rustic-looking old lady in the distance seemingly running away from us, holding a large fishing net solely composed of wood and twine. She runs behind densely growing pines that tower above the watery swamp where she was apparently fishing, as we notice countless white birds perched in and swirling around the trees.

Behind us, on the other side of the burned house, to its left, we find that the sun is near setting. We stare beyond a field dotted with power lines and rolls of hay as the light fades quickly, exiting with a tiny glint of purple and peach glowing beneath small, round wispy clouds departing far into distant plains, all beneath the first and lone star of night.

After a momentary shift to black, we are presented with an area lit similarly to where we just were, but it is now morning, and peach and purple shine with blood oranges and pinks upon a collapsed shed. Its rusted roof bends to expose junk from broken lamps to moldy disintegrating magazines, and its sides of rotting wooden planks are lined with year-old fallen branches.

We follow an oil- and garbage-filled creek behind the shed until it empties into a pond beside an ugly mess of an abandoned construction site that looks like a long-forgotten disaster area. What was once just starting to be built has become nearly unrecognizably rusted, molded, or also fallen, and wooden planks, machinery, and rods are strewn about as if a tornado had rampaged through the area.

The pond leaks into a swampy backyard nearby. Beyond some trees behind a near-dilapidated once white-painted small home, small streams form down a mossy hill, flowing over small amphibious creatures from newts and lizards to small alligators. We peer under the moss into a recently-dug hole to see other creatures, from large pink larvae with claw-like legs, to long caterpillars hairless but for

their heads, to snails with long and flowing antennae.

The ground suddenly collapses into an underground air pocket apparently a cesspool, but filled with decades-old forgotten toys and some child's old school papers. We notice small snakes slithering through the toys and papers and increasing in number and size toward one corner piled with layers of thick, slick, and shiny black snakes.

We only see black as we approach them, but a door soon bursts open into an underground warehouse, as black gunk and slime leaks out into it from behind us. No walls or ceiling can be seen, just the effect of probable fluorescent lights above a thick misty fog. The area before us looks like a dumping ground, but with streams flowing through it.

A lady can be heard humming some sorrowful wordless tune, heavily breathily, but very emotionally and purely. We look for the source of the voice until we see a canoe led by a black-haired woman come from around a bend. We follow her as the streams become wider and more prominent, and the trash become merely islands. We jump onto one of the islands where we see a child's toys maybe even a decade older from the toys we saw in the cesspool earlier. Slightly buried within the toys is a clear plastic trunk probably filled with the early school paperwork of the toys' owner. Though it appears sealed air-tightly, there is an orangey, wet-looking foam spreading in spongey claw-like shapes especially toward the dark purplish bottom.

The lady in the canoe has waited next to us, and while continuing to hum. We ride with her again until we soon come to land at a shore which, through now lighter fog, we can see to be that of the same pond where the old lady was fishing before. And, we see her again, just several yards away, rushing away from us again. Leaving the canoe, we follow her to a field behind the tall pines where an

unstained wooden small airplane is already prepared to take flight, as she jumps into it and flies toward some very tall church steeple in the distance. We turn to head back toward the pond but first notice a man's dead naked body hung high in a dead tree, a natural color rope knotted tightly around his neck.

We walk around the pond to find a crushed aged skeleton of a dove next to pieces of a turtle shell scattered amidst pearly gelatinous eggs and, hidden within some tall grass nearby, a dead and rotted beaver exposing its yet-unrotted purplish red-brown teeth. We pick up a nearby small branch to stir the thick, green water and watch as a bubbling slime droops from the branch as we lift it out of the water. As we attempt to inspect this slime by holding the branch up to the hidden sun, something from the pond suddenly grabs our left leg. We are nearly pulled into the pond by a slick, strong, and clawed yet small green human-like hand, but we finally break loose from its grip as we watch the hand slowly retreat back underwater.

To the left of the pond and back toward where the old lady ascended in her plane, a rather wide but shallow rocky stream extends hidden by tall grass and small trees. After deciding to walk along it, we soon notice dead and rotting human bodies mixed in with all sorts of garbage that would usually be found in a dump. Along with increasingly thick upward-bending branches of surrounding dead and bare coniferous trees, this refuse only multiplies before the stream ends, by collecting into a deep and black muddy pool. As we peer down into the pool, we choose to descend into it.

After swimming through yards of dark and muddy water, we soon arise from the drain in the deep swimming pool where we began, finding both the skeleton of the shy boy nearby and green to white growths all around the bottom, sides, and surface of the pool now a much darker green. Exiting this area through the still-open large doors built into a hill, instead of the dirt road and blue cottage, we find that we are in a sandy desert but at the bottom of a deep hole

seemingly created by an enormous bomb. There are no signs of life in the sand until we reach the top of this mile-deep hole, where we see the nearby world only covered in thick cobwebs––sometimes draping across things, but always covering every inch of every surface. Spiders of all sorts––sizes, colors, textures, shapes––roam freely throughout their new expansive home that can be seen to already have trapped an array of humans and other animals, only some of which appear still living.

Even through a window into an old house, we can see a man sitting in an overfilling hot bathtub desperately combing spiders and webs from his hair and body. Across the street a middle-aged woman is peeking through a stained glass window of an old church with a tired face of despair, turning around to weep. Yet, seemingly struck with a thought, she reclaims her composure, though shakingly, to ascend some rickety stairs past a door in a rounded part of a nearby wall.

We sneak to enter the church and follow her up a splintery and uneven spiral staircase for several floors. The first few floors are just filled with old church paraphernalia, from hymnals to music stands, podiums, and brooms, though the paraphernalia appears older and more forgotten as we ascend. The walls and windows also appear to increasingly age as we go up, to a point where the walls are crumbling and the windows are not just cracking but absent, allowing a cold wind to blow freely through tattered rags of ancient curtains and dry out not long-dead prehistoric-looking fish of various sizes and textures scattered over the floor. The next level up, human skeletons hang from the walls, while the floor of the next level is covered with not long-dead humans and various other animals lying upon layers of further-decayed bodies that lie upon layers of skeletons. On the next higher level, there are no signs of death, just a multitude of human faces carved deeply and roundly into the wooden planks of walls exposed from plaster long-fallen and -disintegrated. The faces express emotions from neutral

boredom to great pain, terror, and monstrously furious but gleeful aggression.

The top floor is filled with cobweb-covered antiques so numerous that we can barely find the footing to walk around items from phonographs, to buffet tables, to picture frames. Beyond the myriad of antiques we can see an old woman draped in flowing purple sitting with her back toward us at a centuries-old organ, looking into a mirror just below its pipes. To the right side of the organ, there is space enough for a small wooden airplane to sit beside a glassless window that is far wider than tall, where the woman we have followed is standing, peering out.

As the woman we have followed anxiously eyes the ground far below the window, the old woman at the organ positions her arm as if to invite the woman through it, while turning toward us, her face veiled in purple and, upon her lap, the bloody, rotted carcass of an infant whose dead mother in flowing blood-stained white we soon notice, nailed to a wall to our far left.

Grisworld

A child beseeches his mother, "What if I died today?"

To the sonorous but non-melodic howl of some low indigenous flute accompanied by an electrical drone, I can still see, slowly turning toward me, a tall man well-dressed in mostly white––from a suit to fedora and gloves––but with half of a sewn-together bloody leather mask covering half of a grotesquely malformed, burnt, lacerated, and rotting face exposing muscle and bone. I can now more fully see his oddly neutral expression, but less clearly, as my sight becomes gradually flooded with translucent semi-iridescent seemingly electrical flashing spots that heavily obscure my vision of both him and, now overlapping him, an enormous orange sun overcoming an expansive horizon of countless rows of grapes covering an area that resembles an African savannah.

A man with bloodshot eyes rushes to a bathroom mirror and angrily

shouts to himself, "Where is the blood!?" His anger dissipates as the words leave his mouth, and he slowly begins to walk away.

A few rounded haystacks lay upon a grassy knoll surrounded by an

old stone wall mostly covered in thorny plants of red berries and red-tinted small and round leaves. In the distance sway tall grass, bushy trees, and some dead and bare trees.

"My friend Jeff stays over every weekend and sleeps in my room. Over the past few months, I've noticed that he will predictably get up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, and stay in there for about a half hour. He isn't using the bathroom, though, but just standing stilly and silently in there, and with the lights off. I asked his family about it and they were astonished. They told me he never does anything like this in their home where he lives. They said he hardly ever gets up in the middle of the night and has no history of

sleepwalking. I'm so frightened to approach him about this."

Chasing a cow deep into the woods at night, shouting, "Come back! Come back!" until you can see neither it nor your way back.

Beyond the grassy knoll dotted with haystacks descends a slowly setting sun above a rising mist where a ghost will soon appear.

Driving down a familiar but dark country road at the point furthest from any town, a young man notices out to his right the bright glow

of a lantern carried by an old woman wearing a white nightgown

and draping cap.

A seven-year-old girl sits in a bathtub just filled by her babysitter

Melissa. As Melissa turns to exit the bathroom, the girl catches Melissa's eye with an over-sweet smile. "Melissa! Have you met Rahannukah? She is my friend and she lives in the bathtub. But, "

Melissa slowly

Melissa, Rahannukah hates it when you smile

backs out of the bathroom into a darkened hallway only lit from under the now closed bathroom door.

A girl enters her first-floor bathroom on a grey and misty morning to

witness a nearly seven-foot figure draped in a hooded black cloak covering any surface of skin, motionlessly staring into the window.

Through a grey and cloudy dusk falling over semi-deep woods, about two dozen college-aged young adults gather from all different directions over the span of several minutes. They gather around a small pond stopped by a beaver dam with a brook to its left, marshy grass directly surrounding it. Upon arriving, each person begins to cry as if on cue, but without any cue. They initiate neither eye contact nor any contact toward each other.

An old hotel worker fills a large swimming pool around the corner

Through the hose

from a hallway leading to a mall's grocery store.

sprays gallons of thick blood.

As excited horses lie tied and clamped down to the ground in the haystack-dotted field under newly darkened skies, some glowing orbs approach them from different distances, glowing balls under tattered and rippling cloth, like shriveled corn stalks of varying heights.

Within a high-ceilinged mausoleum of mossy cemented stones, under strangely orangish lighting, all the covers of shelved limestone sarcophagi lie dropped and broken, exposing skeletons, to rotting bodies, to newly dead bodies of people of all ages.

A girl swims gaspingly through the pool filled with blood to enter an abandoned grocery store pristinely white except for swarms of flies upon food, from the deli's meats to the produce section's vegetables, all left to rot.

Late at night, two friends drive for an hour down unfamiliar winding, sometimes intersecting, dirt roads until they notice an old white truck following behind them. Upon reaching a dead end, the truck blocks the road back, repeatedly revving its engine.

Having given up on finding your cow, you just want to find a way out until you run into a petting zoo at the edge of an unrecognized road, where all the animals––from alpacas, to llamas, to oxen, horses, bucks, donkeys, and cows––lie skinned and beheaded.

The old hotel worker checks on the blood-filled swimming pool after a month to find it starting to cake over and speckle with dark clumps of rot.

Continuing to drive down his familiar but darkened road, though it has begun to rain, the young man notices, again to his right, someone deep in the woods squirming while hanging from a noose.

At the distant end of a field at the very end of dusk, the girl again finds her tall hooded dark figure. He stands motionlessly as before, until he begins to rushedly charge toward her.

Heading south, passing through a desert ghost town as the sun is just rising, the young man notices to his right several worn horse carcasses propped up on wooden poles. Beyond this area lie chains of fields extending far from and along both sides of the road. Scattered among these fields hang propped-up scarecrows that are very possibly dead burnt human bodies, hats covering charred and disfigured faces. After a few more minutes of driving, the young man begins to notice people approaching the sides of the road from all directions, wearing the skulls of goats and antelopes, and carrying large bones as clubs.

The old hotel worker checks the blood-filled swimming pool after another month to find most of it drying or dried.

A man dreams of hearing from the hall outside his room a crazed- sounding screaming woman clacking the floor with the sounds of bones for her feet. The man dreaming looks into the hall still hearing this but seeing nothing in either direction, before being awoken by banging on the outside of his window, a mostly decomposed woman pleading to be let in, as if being chased.

Beautiful apparent female models of different races, heights, shapes, and hair color all lie dead in cages within their own rectangular tube filled with water, of hundreds of tubes of all different heights spread throughout an enormous warehouse. One apparently living woman awakes with a strong jerk, her eyes fire blue but quickly fading. She screams violently as her eyes continue to fade, only to hear a loudly echoing female-sounding robotic voice projected from a large speaker within one of the cages: "Two seconds of your life remain."

A tall dark-haired woman slumping sick in a highchair with vomit and blood dried all around her mouth looks like a dead overgrown child. Her aged mother approaches with one of several nearby turkey basters filled with blood saying, "Open up, sweetie", though the sick woman dazedly stares with an already opened mouth. Turning away, she speaks with the voice of a deeply disabled person, "But I don't want anymore". "Open up!" Several months later, the woman slumps in the same highchair but much fatter and more bloated. She vomits forth a large amount of blood but with very little bodily movement.

Down a lost country road and beyond a gravel parking lot filled with years of green- and wheat-colored weeds, a simple few-story rectangular building from the mid-1900's with a nearly caved-in roof has kept little of its original seafoam-green paint or black Tudor-style boards of wood. Through its doorless entryway and beneath the heavy yellow-green smog and dust filling the place, drips to pools of blood lie scattered here and there, from faint decades-old stains to yet-undried liquid. Massive cobwebs housing two-inch to two-foot spiders cover the walls, ceilings, and mostly collapsed or collapsing pine wood bunk beds with industrialized- looking once off-white sheets under the bodies of several hundred corpses as well as the subtly groaning living, bodies each differing in their degree of nearness to or from death. While this place appears forgotten, none of the living look starved, just suffering, dying from rashes, to blisters, to lacerations embedded with fungus, cobwebs, flies, and worms. None of them appear able to move, though they will slightly twitch occasionally.

The old hotel keeper returns to his pool after a year to find that the blood has somehow mostly evaporated, except for an uneven very slight to few-inch coating, and a multitude of flies.

I see in slow motion as a character in flowing black turns to the audience of a darkened ornate theatre to reveal a holeless white

porcelain eye mask only for it to be dropped and broken just as any remaining light is lost.

From the top floor of an unoccupied mall late at night, a woman leaves her crying child strapped into his stroller near the mall's indoor balcony, as she bends head-first over the glass and metal railing to fall six floors into a fountain soon bubbling with parts of her brain and a deepening red.

Closing Images

Though I can only see pitch blackness, I hear rushing winds outside my window on a small airplane, mixed with the pattering of summer rain on old pavement, mixed with the conversational though unintelligible voices of those besides me on this plane. I hear the crackling of the plane's old speakers and, over the intercom, a man's low raspy voice.

"Dark skies ahead, dark skies ahead."

*

Out of this blackness I begin to notice a middle-aged woman beside me weeping and slowly sauntering through a misty summer afternoon light rain on a country road. I turn to my left and begin to leave her side as I float beside her, then behind her, then high over her. I notice now that the landscape below me is mostly flat, and that the woman is walking to the right of what is either a wide river or a long lake. I look up toward the sky to see an intensely orange sun whose color is affecting none of the grey-blue sky around it. I continue to focus on the sun over the weeping woman whose cry I can longer hear. I do begin to hear some mellifluously melodious dramatic weeping of some woman, though, a cry uttered as if a performance. The voice seems to be coming from the sun, and, across this distance, it echoes as if over a vast ocean inexplicably carrying and amplifying its sound. I hear now two women similarly singingly weeping, and then three more, and then I begin to hear men's voices with sweeping crescendos and diminuendos in volume and intensity but with fluidity and sweetness. The number of voices increases, and exponentially, until I can no longer identify how many voices are added at once, though I can identify that each voice is unique and performed with its own nuance and intensity; this is not merely a few recordings multiplied. The adding of voices seems to coincide with the adding of clouds that begin to slowly then quickly rush past the sun and multiply enough to gradually block

out its light, from orange to dark orange, to dark grey with some

orange glow, until there is only blackness once again. At this point, which has only been less than a minute, the weeping is deafening and ringing in choruses of echoes not only of the original sound of each voice, but of echoes of echoes and for each of the likely thousands of voices. I hear a singular pound of a gigantic and intensely deep and deeply-resonating drum, and this silences all of the voices, though fading echoes still remain.

*

As the echoes finally dissipate after about another minute, I hear the nearby giggles and snickering of two children, but only faintly compared with an organ's loud drone that also nearly covers the faded vocalizations of a rehearsing choir several yards beyond the sound of papers and curtains seemingly rustled by the organ's strong vibrations. I now sense that I am crawling in a lightless and moderately narrow rounded tunnel behind a cathedral organ following two girls as they whisper and rejoice in escaping an elementary-school-aged children's youth group meeting across the hall from this Gothic, echoing sanctuary. I hear the activity in the sanctuary less and less as we continue to crawl forward. After moments of near complete darkness, I gradually begin to make out a bluish outline to the crumbling walls as an open room is neared, just a few more dozen yards of crawling ahead. This light and the girls' laughter grow exponentially until they are finally able to hop into a stance in the room now clearly just a sudden widening and heightening of a tunnel that only continues monotonously ahead. What light there is seeps through a small hole seemingly drilled through the ceiling, lighting our steps less and less past the hole and until there is access to neither light nor sound from outside of the tunnel. The girls continue to whisper and giggle, but less and less as we go on. Eventually there comes a corner to turn, where the girls' whispering and giggling halts completely with two panicked gasps before shocked silence. About a minute's worth of walking down the tunnel as it continues uncurled ahead, there stands the vague but certain outline of a motionlessly posed man wearing a long beard,

long hair, and a trailing robe. I hear their hysterically terrified and helpless screams as complete darkness returns once again.

*

Their screams become more distant and overwhelmed by the sounds of rushing cars on a secondary highway in some tree-filled suburb dotted with chain restaurants and different stores selling things as different as bicycles, gravel, and cell phones. I only see the area above this highway fully after some length of slow transitioning from blackness; but it is still a dark night. I float parallel above the road yet slowly descend onto its eastward side as a car catches up with me and I land in its passenger seat. The driver is a well- groomed, proper business man in a supple moderately dark-grey suit with a neatly-ironed white shirt and iridescent-blue tie. He is driving carefully but his mind is clearly distant and drained.

As we round a bend, out of the corner of my eye I catch the large outline of an "alien"-shaped balloon figure about a half a mile in the distance, neon green, probably forty feet tall, swaying in the gentle wind, its fingers dangling in all directions and slowly spinning as they wave passersby. The driver next to me reacts to this outline with a look of surprise, but he quickly fades back into a glazed and drained posture of eyes and body as he probably realizes as I do that this must be some prop at a car dealership celebrating a sale. As we pass the "alien", I can see in the rearview mirror that it has swiveled as if by a sturdy wire tied between it and the car. I turn around and observe that any wind has seemingly died down as now neither the alien nor its fingers continue to sway randomly. The alien's fingers seem to come to stillness not gradually, however, but as if moved by the creature that the balloon portrays. The driver notices none of these motions, however.

A few miles ahead, as trees become more numerous and variegated and as the road's winds more closely match the curves of the natural landscape, to the left, a potentially newly-constructed––well- cemented and unweathered––stone wall seems randomly placed. As

I quizzically stare, I notice that the wall extends for some length and that, further down, people are lined up sitting on this wall that would be a rather high fall. They are lined up all the way into the distance, maybe numbering even a hundred. As the car nears these people, it can be seen that they are each staring fixedly in front of them, motionless both in body and in eyes. Each person also appears at least nearly identical––in both posture and even physical appearance––and they each look very much like the driver, who seems to acknowledge this resemblance in a look of surprise strikingly more emotive than his prior reaction to the balloon. As I squint further in this night now unlit by lamps of stores and restaurants, I see that each of these people is also dressed in the makeup of a frowning clown, with only dark red and chalk-white paint and red curly wigs. Otherwise, they look exactly like the driver. He decidedly speeds up, rushing past these clowns who do not change position even in his passing them. I turn around, however, and notice that the last one we have passed by is slowly turning his head. Though it is dark, it appears that, unlike the other clowns, this one has no eyes, just empty sockets.

The driver has not slowed his car, even as the road becomes windier, hillier, and more narrow. It seems that we are no longer on a secondary highway. Yet after some patches of naturally-grown trees and unlandscaped roadsides, we reach a seemingly highly populated residential area. With a look of some relief, the driver dramatically lessens his speed and begins breathing more slowly, though more audibly, and his face once again loses its animation, almost settling back into an appearance of dissociation––but for barely perceptible small twitches pulling at the corners of his eyes and mouth.

The houses all are newly-built and identical, as if large exactly square plastic dollhouses simply placed on newly leveled woods. They extend far beyond the edges of the road, however, into sub- developments that wind back into woods currently-unleveled yet marked with orange signs displaying numeric codes underneath the

large letters "D.E.P. APPROVED". Suddenly the twitches around the crevices of his face grow more noticeable and his face sinks from distant into some sort of anxious despair as I face in front of me and see a child standing fixedly in the middle of the road firmly pointing at the car a few houses' length ahead. The driver does not slow down and only turns the car to swerve around the child as his breathing once again quickens and yet remains heavy. Upon more closely inspecting the child as we approach her side, we see that she has flowing brown hair and eyes that would normally belong to an old woman, sunken in and glowing opaquely green-white in the light of the car's beams. She does not change position as we pass her.

From the left side of the road in front of one of the only houses lit with a porch light––evidently one of the only houses currently owned––, another girl dressed just as the other, in her red gown with white dots and a wide and long blue bow around her waist, points toward the car just as firmly and stilly as the other girl. She seems to be the other girl's twin, her eyes, hair, and face exactly the same as the other's.

And now I see yet another girl, identical in dress, features, and position, on the right a few yards ahead––frozen with her right arm and index finger sturdily pointed toward us. As the car illuminates further down the road, we see more and more girls along the sides of the road, all identical in features, position, and dress. The driver speeds up for a few seconds until, with a tensed gasp, he is forced to come to a violent stop at the dead-end of the cul-de-sac development that leads into a dense forest. As the car lights stay fixed on the thickly-grown trees, shrubs, and saplings and swarms of summer gnats, moths, and other flying insects in the humid air, the driver barely moves but for intensely trembling features. His contorted and wildly twitching face soon smooths out and droops into its original state, however, as his eyes slowly regain a glaze of disinterest. He appears once again drained, distant, and yet now

somehow empty as it becomes clear that, out from the woods,

children as numerous as the trees and plants are approaching.

*

The buzzing of the insects in these summer woods has instantaneously become the panicked breathing of yet another man maniacally darting through seemingly nearby woods. My vision floats above him and between the thorny vegetation brushed out of his way that is catching on his already torn grey shorts and somewhat bloodied ripped white tank top drenched in a sweat that covers his convulsively yet purposely flailing body. I see some blueish glowing orbs throughout the woods far in the distance, the size of tall men encapsulated in iridescent and blue tube-like unmoving flames. They seem to appear and disappear, however, and at quickening intervals while seemingly reappearing closer and closer to the man. Though he continues to change his course in response to these orbs, I can now see that the orbs are dispersed in every direction surrounding us.

As if tripping over a hidden electric current, the running man falls electrified and shaking in violent wobbles as I look a few feet beyond him and see an inordinately tall man, at least ten feet tall, draped in some Native American garb, some sort of tanned leather covered with long feathers gleaming white in the silvery moonlight. The running man lies beaten and soaked in glistening blood as he begins convulsing to a point where he begins shifting along the ground closer and closer to a steep downgrade to his left. As the pace and intensity of his ferocious jerkings strengthen, he is pushed further and further toward what I now clearly see is not just a hill but the edge of a rocky ravine whose jagged walls continuously

increase in steepness toward its bottom. I cannot see his fall, but I hear his tortured gasps and cries and collisions and scrapes. My perspective floats not to his body but onward to where the walls of the ravine are shorter, less steep, and further apart a few hundred yards toward a dirt road at the edge of these thick woods.

*

I

drift toward the dirt road and notice that it is dotted with branches

seemingly fallen after some storm or storms possibly months passed––weedy grasses have grown to lean over some of them. I stay fixed at the road's edge where I can see on its other side a small field with gardens and crops over which the sun is slowly rising. The sky is tinted green toward the horizon with slight strokes of neon pink. Most of the sky is still dark, but it is quickly lightening. As I stare into the sun, it illuminates the ground several feet beneath me where I now notice, slowly flowing from the direction of the ravine, a thick and glistening stream of dark red paint collecting in the center of the road. About a quarter mile away in the direction which I am faced, toward the field green with cabbages, corn, and grasses of different heights, I see a car approaching, driven cautiously and slowly. It is a maroon boxy compact car possibly twenty years old driven by a thin young man either in his early twenties or late teens. While he approaches, I turn my head toward the small white ranch-style somewhat dilapidated house to my right which I did not attend to before, lying on the edge of the field of crops and gardens but only a few yards from the road. Toward the right edge of the house's small yard––that is filled with rusted tires, wheels, and parts of various automobile machinery––, I notice a large bear-like animal turned toward an old rusted and low barbed- wire fence overgrown by thickets that are creeping up from the edge of a small brook twisting out from a forest behind the field.

I turn back to the young man driving the car and can now see that he

is looking only a few feet in front of him as he drives to avoid fallen branches of different sizes every few dozen yards. Out of the corner of my right eye I see what must be the large animal slowly moving away from the fence and moving between all the old equipment filling the house's yard. As I turn back toward the house, it becomes clear that this is not an animal but a large yet only moderately tall man dressed in a bear suit and a leather pig mask with sewn-on tusks and ram horns. And I can now see that he is holding a yet- unlit red candle that he is waving as if to catch the attention of the

young driver whom he may have been waiting for. As I hear the splash of the young man's tires through the thick red paint slowly flowing from the forest behind me, I turn and see him staring at the man with a candle in confusion and fear and no longer steering along the center of the road. Veering into the edge of the forest, he only notices the need to sharply steer back onto the road a moment before he crunches his front bumper into a tree. At the sound of the slight crunch, the man in the yard drops his candle and picks up an axe hidden amongst all the other metal covering the yard. Noticing the man's axe, the young driver rushes to back onto the road again, but his wheels spin in the dirt of the road and forest that has mixed with the paint carried on his wheels from a few yards back. In this amount of time, the man in the fur suit has been able to make his first explosive swing at the young man's window while the young man unbuckles, grabs the backs of the two front seats to lunge himself into the rear of the car interior, and thrusts his body as low to the floor as he can between maps, bottles of soda, papers, and notebooks. But the man with the axe simply lifts the handle of the unlocked door, hurls himself into the car interior, and begins chopping at the young man's body. With each collision of axe and body, instead of cries or crunches, I hear bursts of electric buzzing that become louder with each chop and in between a drone baseline buzz increasing in volume with each intermittent burst. Slowly all sounds around me are swallowed by the electric buzzing, though the

scene of the young man's car is still at hand and continuously further illuminated by the rising sun with brighter yellows that melt through the dissipating pinks and greens.

*

This scene slowly fades out as another scene slowly fades in, a view of a small room lined with stones and cement for its walls, ceiling, and floor, with the electric buzzing continuing from the last scene. Lit only by the outside sun filtered through two small burrows in the back wall––each burrow covered with six vertically-positioned iron bars––, half the space in this dusty room is occupied by two six-foot tall and wide eyeballs exactly reminiscent of the young driver's

hazel eyes. With each burst of continually loudening electric buzzing, the six-foot eyes are illuminated with a slightly blue

quivering electric current as they joltingly squirt some few liters of blood from underneath them. Blood begins flooding this small room until the six-foot eyes are only half exposed.

*

In an instant, this scene evaporates at the pounding of the drum which silenced the choir of weeping in the sun. Though still overwhelming, at a lesser volume than before, the drum continues at even intervals, accompanying a march rhythm perpetuated by hundreds of whooping horns, small aboriginal tribal drums, rushing rattles, and clanging bells. The collection resembles the sound of some alien and ancient sacrificial ceremony. I am flying above an ocean and see a high grassy cliff from which a constant stream of bodies of female and male adults and children are leaping and being hurled to waves and rocks far below. Beyond the edge of the cliff I see less and less green, but, scattered throughout the limbs and branches of each of the few bare small and curling trees I do see are hanging intact bodies, parts of bodies, organs, parts of organs, intact skeletons, bones, and parts of bones. I see barns and houses on fire, the slaughtered livestock of horses, sheep, and goats, crashed cars, and, as my flying accelerates and elevates, I see in the distance a city bombed to the ground in the midst of a hole possibly a hundred miles wide. Surrounding this crumbled, smoldering city of fumes and refuse, I see an immense cloud filling the deep fiery-red horizon. This cloud only grows as it collects dark smoke and slowly swirling brown and grey ash from below, and it deepens the black of the sky above it.

As I tilt down from the sky and slow near the city, in a drainage area surrounded by the ramp of a large interstate covered in fallen electrical wires, telephone poles, and highway lights, I see some sort of snail as large as an average city building, and, a mile beyond that, a bundle of hollow metal tubes as round and long as skyscrapers, as if fallen from a gargantuan truck the size of a city itself. But, a mile

beyond this, a church is still standing, yet with a front door broken in half and fallen off the hinges.

*

I

pass through the doorway into this small alabaster church, and I

see cages bordering either side of the sanctuary walls that are lined with dark blue, green, and red stained-glass windows decorated with asymmetrical shapes. The cages are filled with female and male children and adults screaming and crying, writhing in pain of torture from the whips, clubs, claws, and snarls of animated human skeletons, half-decomposed bodies, and one-horned creatures having red scaly skin and the contorted faces of demons. My perspective moves toward the center of the white-painted wooden- floor aisle cloaked with a long red, silky carpet. As I look up further in front of me, I see a gilded ornate altar draped with cloth of the same material as the red carpet on which rests a worn but gilded and ornate bible. Beyond the altar is a black velvet curtain roped to the

ceiling, hiding the rest of the sanctuary. In front of this curtain, I see

a large and heavily muscular red-scaled two-horned man with the

face of a demon snarling and grinning while slowly lifting into view from below his waist a crying infant wrapped in a long and narrow white cloth. The demon lifts the infant higher to the point where it is above its head, the demon's enormous, bulging, and tapered red arms extended as far as possible. As the wild ceremonial music has crescendoed to a point of torturously deafening and violent ferocity, he lets out a much louder snarl coinciding with the last pounding of the drum now loud enough not only to silence choirs of weeping but also the sun. I see and hear nothing except the echoes of the demon's last snarl. Amidst these echoes that continuously fade as they seem to ripple in all directions around me, I hear a small boy whisper.

"There was more bad in the world than good."

Unreplaced Moments

Rushing through the woods at an accelerating pace, knowing the sun will soon set but knowing you may be lost, your mouth dries as your stomach weakens and nearly all your muscles shake. But, you see a lighted opening in the distance while your hopes soar and you gently chastise yourself for doubting your navigating abilities. Upon clearing enough branches and brushy limbs out of your way, your lips begin to tremble and your eyes lose focus as you don't yet believe what you are seeing: tall, yellow grass surrounded on all sides by tall thick pines. Your mouth redries, your stomach resickens, and your muscles reshake as you are nearly overwhelmed with dizziness. The pungent smell of decaying weeds and grass and untamed wildness overcomes you, but you suddenly hold stiller than you thought you could at the sound of a low growl coming from the woods to the right. An upright grizzly bear sniffing the air walks closely past you as you forcefully cover your face, his frothing mouth stained and dripping with blood. As he disappears into the dark woods ahead of you to your left, you slowly turn at a pace that exponentially quickens with your heart, breathing, tears, and trembling. After about a mile of panicked running, you come to a rocky semi-clearing where you find two bear cubs and a large adult torn and mangled, their innards and blood spread throughout the open area.

In the heavy rain I am in a different forest, trying to keep from slipping on the increasingly muddying path down an increasingly steep incline. I can see less and less in front of me and slip several times before I confront the reality that I need to wait this out. But I am cold and coughing and I have hurt myself from scrapes and falls. I crouch in a convenient hut-like opening under a large fir and I rock myself to steady my mind and rushing pulse. I turn slightly at a small sound I think nothing of until I scrape my face on large antlers positioned directly next to me. I rush to back up, but this large elk

follows me and until I slip backwards down a nearby slope I didn't see. It is a vertical drop dug probably one hundred feet deep though only twenty feet wide and long. I am holding onto a root jutting out about ten feet down and violently shake as I attempt to ease my way back up. There are no rocks or other roots to step on, so I can only cling to the soaking dirt and after tremendous pauses of frantic planning. I look beneath me and can't see a bottom, just the growing rain mingling with a growing amount of water rushing from the edge of the hole just above me. I have made little progress up from the root I initially grabbed when I begin to slip. The rain and rushing budding waterfall are only increasing, and the root which I am now only loosely clinging to begins to break within the hole's wall of soil. I see leaves, plants, and twigs start to fall from the edge of the hole which is moving further and further away from me as I am pushed further and further down the hole, though I cling to the loosening mud to slow my descent. Soon, I see branches, then limbs, then trees start to come from above, and I am slowly crushed and drowned.

Beyond the low lighting of a small fire, we see the shadow of a tall figure approaching us from further within this abandoned warehouse that we have come to from the icy dark streets. Our younger brother wakes up with a scream, his eyes still glazed, still dreaming, but screaming with hysteric panting and convulsive shakes, his eyes darting randomly as he screams, "The tall shadow raped! They came and killed!"

*

From a dark and dank hallway, we enter a small room with splintered wooden boards for the floor, ceiling, and walls, the ceiling slanted toward two windows to the left that only overlook other parts of the large, castle-like building that the room is a part of––only stone can be seen on the outside. Only the moon is lighting this dusty room of about twenty old beds filled with completely still and quiet sleeping girls, all seemingly overly thin, unwashed, and generally disheveled. In the left corner of the room

near the door through which we peer, a round-featured older lady whose appearance starkly contrasts theirs, dressed in nineteenth century proper attire, sits also fallen asleep, but in a rocking chair with crocheting needles and yarn on her lap. Suddenly, one of the girls––the smallest, with short black hair––opens her eyes wide enough for us to assume she had just heard the screech of something like a ghost. She sits up with a jerk, screaming with a voice potentially either under-used or never before used. She steadily eyes and points toward the lady in the rocking chair who only then opens her own eyes. All the girls wake and begin making noises of the highest intensities and volumes allowed by their differing levels of apparent malnutrition or disability. The small girl with black hair, silent, with a face stern and eyes narrowed and focused, slowly makes her way to the lady in the rocking chair who sits seemingly paralyzed with fear. The girl whips her arm up to her mouth to bite her wrist hard enough for blood to spill on the floor, but only enough to form a small but clear impression of the face of Jesus. The older woman, whose mouth is now covered by the hands of another girl behind her, tries her best to scream as the girl with black hair stomps out the face with her bare foot. At this point, all of the girls seem to have been granted some magical strength, some girls even jumping ferociously on their beds, all except one blonde-haired taller girl who has seemingly been dead for days. The girl with black hair runs to this dead girl as one of the others pulls open a large door in the floor a few feet to the left of the older lady's now violently oscillating rocking chair. The girl with black hair kisses the dead girl, picks her up, and carries her into the area underneath the floor, as another carefully holds up then closes the floor door behind them. All the other girls have become wild enough for some to violently pull the older woman's hair, hit her, and pull at her feet, all while the woman tries more and more desperately to scream through the hands of the girl behind her whose grip may now be nearly suffocating. As the light from a lantern down the hall approaches, a man who seems to be a guard enters the edge of the room with a look of deep horror. Before he can retract his steps, one

of the girls grabs his lantern while another takes the blankets from their bed to throw over the older woman. The lantern is broken over

the woman's head as she is lit on fire. Losing her paralysis, she runs into the guard as they are both slowly consumed in flames to the accompaniment of echoing deranged howls.

*

Into some darkened bedroom, a middle-aged woman enters to kiss and cryingly whisper to an unresponsive elderly man. Turning her

head toward the ceiling, she takes a nearby pillow and smothers the man, all while he remains unresponsive.

*

We see a woman laughingly conversing with a very large and muscular socially-confident and -adept gay man, through smoke from across the main room at a heavily-patronized old-fashioned upscale urban bar.

Her face several years older, she is walking through shallow, narrow concrete hallways with polished walls appearing to be composed of separate large stone blocks. After several corners, the hallway shifts to become more spacious and of white plaster. Thick brown windows appear on either side at this point, appearing at even intervals aside similarly windowed metallic doors. The woman stops at the eleventh door on the right side of the hallway. She enters the open door only after a length of stilly deliberating in silent calm. The room is well-lit, even from just the pure white sky past the room's large window.

She only approaches a short distance past the entry before being joltingly struck at his skeletal and bruised appearance. She begins to quiver slightly, her eyes momentarily still, but unfocused. Her face then quickly softens and contorts, her eyes swelling. She slowly approaches all the while, appearing in basic cognitive composure, and enough to attempt restraining her body's tumult. He was expecting her and smiles only as much as he can, with his eyes, and with obvious great effort. She kneels by him as they say

nothing. She touches his hair and face with gentleness, still shaking slightly. She only daintily lays her right hand on the edge of his bed to keep minimal balance of her posture, strugglingly maintaining her bent position with her legs and back. The man's faint shifting of facial positioning begins to stop only after several minutes, as he seems to let himself fall into a sleep. As the time progresses further and further past his waking, the woman appears more and more still, but unfocused.

She is startled slightly by the knock of a doctor who came from the room at the start of the white hall, where there are monitors of the machines connected to the tubes attached to the man's body. As the woman quickly regains her composure while focusing her eyes

toward the doctor, she also begins to intensely stiffen listening to the doctor's few even-toned speeches, her eyes slowly drifting into a fixed limp positioning. The doctor and woman stay in their current postures for the rest of the last minutes of Fred's last hour. Michelle is stayed in her contorted, exact position, the doctor only generally still.

*

I have traveled days and come only here, to this cave filled with ice.

Yet at least it overlooks some grassy field where some berries may grow. But it is far and I am weary. So as I leave the cave and approach a hill of snow,

I let myself sink,

and as I suffocate,

I dream of beauty,

that life is worthwhile.

Despite the destruction of modern civilization, an emerging power of a tribal people

discover the frozen body of a forgotten young man for whom they let live again in their mourning, though his life impacted all of theirs already.

Curious Images

Unnatural Images

To the electronically manipulated and amplified sounds of water sloshing up and down in a bottle of water, we awake from a dream but can still see the fading, flickering image of a man in the desert running up a distant hill of sand, his four-foot raggedy black top hat flopping a bit as he moves jerkingly, rigidly in his tight old- fashioned black suit.

Gradually, the sound of the water fades while overlapping with the gradually loudening tune of a harp somehow perfectly matching the sounds of the water in time and timbre. The water becomes the subtle sloshing of a toilet beneath us as we see through the crack in our stall a middle-aged woman playing a large harp beyond this 1930's-fashioned bathroom's window. She is wearing a faded grey and pink nightgown that gently blows with the wind of the currently greyed sky.

As we stand upright on the large black and white tiled floor to emerge from our black-painted stall, we notice about a dozen living and dead moths of bluish to greenish pastels positioned along the intricately carved moderately darkly stained walls, on one of the relatively ornate sinks, and on one of the urinals opposite the propped-open door where we exit, but not before a moth that flies over our heads in front of us.

We notice directly ahead an ornately carved widely spiraling staircase coated with bright red carpeting. While the moth proceeds in that direction, we are startled by the energetic humming of a late adolescent boy hiding under a large leather jacket while lying on a bench to our left. He stretches his arm out slowly before peering out smilingly, seemingly ready to get up. Something seems to cause him to slow his singing, energy, and movements rather suddenly, though, as he recoils into his jacket and initial silence.

As we continue to stare at his covered body, we are distracted by a long-haired calico cat midway up the staircase that has begun to meow in a loud and distraught, confused manner, apparently prompted by our moth fluttering in its face. The cat eats the moth, but then continues her sorrowful cry, even as we pass her, going seemingly unnoticed.

As we climb further up, the stairs begin to wind more narrowly and appear more worn, and as the lighting dims; by the time we reach the top, the lighting is barely perceptible and the carpeting has completely worn out. Directly ahead of us, a propped-open door reveals a smoke-filled billiard from the 1830's, built with dark wood and painted olive green. No one is at the bar, pool table, or card table; all of the patrons, well-dressed men with long black mustaches and beards, are all silently smoking pipes while sitting atop very tall benches that line the walls; these benches would require climbing to reach, as their relatively compact seats are about five feet from the benches' base.

There suddenly appears to be some movement from under the pool table, where a red-haired, freckled girl in pig tails and wearing a blue and white checkered dress suddenly emerges to jump out the window in front of us, into a hot air balloon anchored to the side of the building. We jump in the light-toned basket with her as she quickly unhooks the basket from the window. As we look around us, however, we see no balloon––only small green whoopee cushions lining the rim of the small basket. Both of us desperately squeeze the cushions over and over, as if to pump them with air, while the basket falls furiously to the ground that appears to be at least a mile below. We are soon hurled out of the basket onto rocks, but we survive because the now bloodied and crushed girl has broken our fall.

Although shocked, we begin to walk away from the girl.

We soon

notice the basket floating now, though, as the whoopee cushions have somehow filled extremely tightly with air. We decide to get in to ride it wherever it drifts––apparently off what is just an island, toward a main land.

We fly over another nearby but very small island nearly covered in a slowly-shifting fog that moves in accompaniment with the start of some light rain. Its grassy land is mostly occupied by a small lighthouse and very aged small fenced-in graveyard, but a small portion separated off by a sandy shallow stream underneath a newly-built small wooden bridge remains bare.

The next land mass over is a peninsula of main land, where, near its tip, we jump from the basket into a rose garden in the small fenced- in yard of a small wind-worn brown cottage. We peer in through a window to see two older ladies in a kitchen, one seated at a small table, apparently waiting for the other to bring some soup over from a stovetop. The seated lady suddenly forcefully vomits out onto the table––vomit also flowing to the floor––several live baby squids, live baby mice, large cubes of chopped cooked carrots, big and small dead and living black spiders, small pumpkins, and various organs, all in a steaming chicken broth. The other lady rushes over to wave the steam from the vomit nearer to her face, exclaiming in jubilation, "Mmmmm!"

As no one is attending to the stovetop, star-shaped noodles start bubbling over from a heated pot, spilling all over the floor, filling the cottage, drowning the screaming old ladies who seem to have forgotten about their cottage's doors. The stars seep out beneath the doors and break through the windows as we quickly move back from the cottage. They soon multiply enough to knock us back into the ocean, though, and now even the ocean fills with stars that rise far above us.

We push through the growing amount of star noodles as they carry

us further inland and hurl us through the misty sky until we fall through the opened sunroof of a noodle-free car driving through windy and wooded roads. Soon after we settle in, at a sharp bend in the road in an area thickly wooded enough to block out most of the sun, we notice a black, shiny, stick-like yet flexible monkey-ish and deer-ish creature quickly squiggle and shift across the road. The driver doesn't seem to notice and we continue safely around the bend to face a more sparsely treed area around the corner.

Ahead to our left, we see seven black buffalo running through a marshy field filled with purple flowers. While typifying the basic movements of running, they advance as if in slow motion; the car is moving much faster than they.

The driver pulls off to the right to get a closer look. Even though we are nearly jogging to follow him across the gravel road, we do not cover enough distance to reach the buffalo, as, by the time we reach the middle of the field, they have disappeared into the dark woods off to the right, even at their slow pace. We peer into the woods, but it is too dark and thick to proceed.

Our driver instead heads for the more penetrable woods of curly pine trees––with thin foliage mostly around their tops––directly behind the field, further away from the road. We follow close behind him while also darting the soggiest pockets of the marshy purple field. Upon reaching the edge of the woods, however, we notice that there is even less dry ground to walk on in there. Around tree trunks and all sorts of grasses and cabbage-like plants, several sometimes deep streams and vernal pools flow to a lake just beyond these small woods. A bit to our left, though, we see and decide to follow a cleared path built on top of the water.

Upon reaching the lake, for some reason, we decide to swim through it. We choose to land at the closest shore of the other side's grassy expansive area. After a bit of trying and waiting to dry, we

notice a bit in the distance to our right a small area where the ground is filled with bananas, seeming like a desert oasis. We also see a thin black cat wearing a clear glass jewel-dotted yellow cloth collar winding aimlessly through these bananas that line the ground in piles, fallen from bushes and trees above.

Much further in the distance, we begin to hear a man screaming, running from our right to our left. He kicks up dust in a straight line while flailing his arms and legs as if shooing invisible flying creatures. We notice, as he comes within earshot, that he is screaming, "Get away from me! Get away from me!" Although, it is clear that he has neither seen us nor the cat, the only life evident within the miles we can see in all directions.

All the contours and colors within our vision suddenly shift into random, angular shapes of iridescent blues, reds, and greens. As these rearrange and somehow swirl, we notice in between moments an outline to a low hilly area where its horizon is filled with mist before a light blue strip of a subtle sunset. We hear the heavy breathy sound of a wide-rimmed and thick bamboo flute pouring through all the air around us. We again wake up on the toilet of our original bathroom where, just outside, our nightgowned lady friend is playing a thick bass shakuhachi to accompany the setting sun.

Curious Exchanges

I. Barbara

Barbara [1:48 AM]:

Barbara [1:48 AM]: you dead?

Schaffner32 [1:48 AM]:

Barbara [1:48 AM]: you have finals? of course you do. I'm writing a 10-15 page paper right now Schaffner32 [1:48 AM]: nope no finals at my school :D Barbara [1:48 AM]: you're joking Barbara [1:49 AM]: when do you get home? or will you be going to sturbridge? Schaffner32 [1:50 AM]: may 7th and will help family move for a couple weeks Barbara [1:50 AM]: wow you get home really early Barbara [1:50 AM]: right after my BIRTHDAY Barbara [1:51 AM]: can you send me something goofy for my birthday, like a homemade card or something? Barbara [1:51 AM]: that would make me laugh a ton I think

Schaffner32 [1:52 AM]: the movers will do big stuff in later June when I'll be gone for a while Barbara [1:52 AM]: my b'day may 5. remember we had my 'surprise party' at lido's. haha so fun Barbara [1:52 AM]: ah yes

HI

possibly

Schaffner32 [1:52 AM]:

hehe

Schaffner32 [1:52 AM]:

hehe

hehe.

Barbara [1:52 AM]: lol I really lol-ed, but you didn't Barbara [1:52 AM]: prob not Barbara [1:52 AM]: you have lots o work? Schaffner32 [1:53 AM]: it's dwindling but yes Schaffner32 [1:53 AM]: last day of classes today

Barbara [1:54 AM]:

Barbara [1:54 AM]: that's so great

wow!

Barbara [1:54 AM]: dwindling good word Barbara [1:54 AM]: I"m like just starting it all Barbara [1:54 AM]: all the craziness

Schaffner32 [1:55 AM]: happy good for you but not cuz sad and angry

Barbara [1:55 AM]:

Barbara [1:55 AM]: why sad angyr? Barbara [1:55 AM]: I want to be yoru friend forever

Schaffner32 [1:56 AM]: I'd prefer that you just die

Barbara [1:56 AM]:

Barbara [1:56 AM]: I will one day Schaffner32 [1:56 AM]: :D Barbara [1:56 AM]: so will you Barbara [1:56 AM]: hey- who do you think will die first? Schaffner32 [1:56 AM]: never Barbara [1:56 AM]: wow, interesting idea Schaffner32 [1:56 AM]: me Barbara [1:56 AM]: whoever dies first Barbara [1:56 AM]: lol why you Barbara [1:56 AM]: has to do soemthing Schaffner32 [1:56 AM]: men live shorterly Barbara [1:56 AM]: LOL good work. know Barbara [1:56 AM]: did you liek godot? Schaffner32 [1:57 AM]: yessum. and I always have felt that I might die like in my 20's probably Barbara [1:57 AM]: I don't think so Barbara [1:57 AM]: I hope not Barbara [1:57 AM]: I would really miss you Schaffner32 [1:57 AM]: just kill yourself to dull the pain, then Schaffner32 [1:59 AM]: everything is always changing and stress is the sense of unexpected and overwhelming change Schaffner32 [2:00 AM]: I'm going to come back from the dead and eat you anyway, so don't worry. ;) Schaffner32 [2:00 AM]: I meant: ":)", not ";)" Barbara [2:08 AM]: Tim. you make me giggle. and I appreciate

LOL

LOL!!

your insight, espeically everything is always changing and stress is the sense of unexpected and overwhelming change [ ] Barbara [2:19 AM]: gg work on paper Barbara [2:19 AM]: I have a giant chick candle Barbara [2:19 AM]: you'd like it Barbara [2:19 AM]: $10 target. but I got as a prize at chi alpha Easter dinner Schaffner32 [2:19 AM]: oohkay :\ (Antonia). ooh! I love chicken candles!! :) Barbara [2:19 AM]: ANTONIA

Barbara [2:19 AM]:

goobi

Barbara [2:19 AM]:

:)

Schaffner32 [2:20 AM]: okilly

Barbara [2:20 AM]:

Barbara [2:20 AM]: talk to you soon hope Schaffner32 [2:20 AM]: might die. bye Barbara [2:20 AM]: ok bye Barbara signed off at 2:20 AM

*

Hello! It is or was and is always a day for that was in what were a remembrance of birth!

bibi

Happy day that was on December 14, I think that I am I don't remember when in an exactly. You are the bird that is with dark hair who flew up and on floor 10 but now is ski. I remember a tooth and an ear and a foot. Have a remembrance that is yours of a day that you are and will be and should for best be happy.

Tim

*

You're welcome for the card.

He emailed you again asking you "how about the next weekend

This

then" when you said you were busy this weekend? Uh oh

might be an awkward situation indeed. like following sentence:

"will be gone next weekend and busy next and maybe next and maybe forever"

maybe he's being friendly but maybe not but I mean flirty over "unfriendly"

"ball was fun." what kind of ball game was it? I know what you mean, of course, though. You had a ball and you liked it. Was it interesting or just all as expected but still good and expected as is but was and then is is not always what is or is that will or would be or could something that be not very interesting but still interesting in its good.

billy

*

Barbara [12:20 PM]: grumbles online Barbara [12:20 PM]: tha'ts mark Barbara [12:21 PM]: wonder if he'll IM Schaffner32 [12:21 PM]: thru up; writing professor to say sick; can't talk; sick Barbara [12:21 PM]: school cancelled for you today? Barbara [12:21 PM]: ok sorry Barbara [12:21 PM]: what wrong? diarrhea? Schaffner32 [12:21 PM]: no; why? Barbara [12:21 PM]: oh threw up? Barbara [12:21 PM]: I threw up last monday Schaffner32 [12:21 PM]: know Barbara [12:21 PM]: snow here Barbara [12:21 PM]: DC can't handle snow. love Schaffner32 [12:21 PM]: that's why cancelled? dint snow much here Barbara [12:22 PM]: yeah but just italian Barbara [12:22 PM]: still ave human body at 1:15 Schaffner32 [12:22 PM]: gud

Barbara [12:22 PM]: hope you feel betteR?

Barbara [12:22 PM]: did you throw up in broom or on yourself?

Schaffner32 [12:24 PM]: in a trash can

sleep now, child. Schaffner32 [12:24 PM]: me sleep mean Schaffner32 [12:24 PM]: I Barbara [12:24 PM]: ok Barbara [12:24 PM]: ok hope you feel better Barbara [12:24 PM]: bi Schaffner32 [12:24 PM]: bi

Barbara [12:24 PM]: trash can like in english Barbara [12:24 PM]: bi Barbara [12:24 PM]: feel better soon hope

*

Barbara: fun Barbara: still there? Schaffner32: no Barbara: floor mtg? bi ellen? Barbara: o Barbara: LOL fr Barbara: of course iet's fr Barbara: mark emailed me he wants to get together this weekend I su ggested next weekend Barbara: can I call you? Barbara: or mtg? Schaffner32: didn't go to flr mtg cuz person from church is online--

I already left one time and he doesn't talk much so I want to talk to

call me

him and not make him think I don't want to talk to him later you beligerent wally-daver. Barbara: lol Barbara: o Barbara: k Barbara: hate you Schaffner32: I know. Barbara: wish you were dead but not

don't want talk bout it.

Schaffner32: Good. Barbara: I don't Barbara: don't wish you were dead Barbara: althoguh I'm sure heaven's fun and great Schaffner32: Ok. You should. Barbara: no Barbara: did you enjoy extra hour sleep? Schaffner32: I slept much. I slept 24 hours from Fri to Sat because I didn't sleep a few days this week, but made up for during week but then didn't from Thu to Fri. ** II. Mel

Schaffner32: hillo Schaffner32: how is your head?

Mel: its ok-thank you-and yours?

you remember coming into my room last

night? Mel: yes- im sorry- idont drink much and i had something to drink Schaffner32: that's ok. how was your day? Mel: odd Schaffner32: I woke up a little while ago. I have sleep problems. why odd? Mel: i had those in hs-i slept like 14 hours a week for months- ummmm- well i dont know about charles and i Mel: he is a nice boy Mel: but Mel: i need a nice man Mel: haha Mel: no Mel: i kid Mel: i think wed make good friends Schaffner32: good friends or more? Mel: i dont know- i had a boyfriend for a year-thats all ive ever had- i dont know much about dating or relationships

Schaffner32: fine

Do

Schaffner32: i know nothing about dating or relationships with

people I'm more attracted to

with" one (in 7th grade--holding hands down the hall, etc.)

Mel: yes- i had a boyfriend senior year-we didnt really "date"- so Mel:

Mel: we need a class on this tim Mel: hehe Mel: dating 101? Mel: do you want to fix your sleeping?

Schaffner32: yes

Mel: when i couldnt sleep it was pure torture sometimes Mel: your mind is awake

Schaffner32: I never have trouble sleeping. I just never sleep on a good schedule and I find it easy to sleep for 24 hours or more at a time. It's scary. Mel: true- most people cant sleep that long

Schaffner32: yes

depressed but I'm just in a rut

music,etc

Mel: im sure oull snap out of it - its just a matter of when and how events fall

Schaffner32: yes.

and ever and in this and the same world like equivaletn in constancy in math in and like it and unchanging and yes. Mel: so true sososo true Mel: i have slept 30mins Schaffner32: all day? Mel: and i am wide awake Schaffner32: I mean since last night Mel: yes Schaffner32: I'm proud of you. Mel: mmmmhhmmm danka y de nada Schaffner32: I don't know what that means! I'm not a bloody whore, you know! Mel: oh- thats not what the cafeteria ladies say- winkywink

things will not always be the same and always

think I could be not

of stuff I'd like to finish (plays,

dated one girl and "gone out

I've

I

will but maybe never

I

think I'm depressed

lots

I

)

and other things

Mel: !!! Schaffner32: Are you Russian? Mel: nope Schaffner32: Is that Russian? yes? Mel: do i look like a spy!?!!?- its german then spanish Schaffner32: wow. Good job. Mel: hehehehe Mel: when i type hehe Mel: i mean it in an evil cackle way Mel: like a dirty old man Schaffner32: I love dirty old men. Mel: you dont get that on computer lingo Mel: ME TOO Schaffner32: Great! Mel: thats why im catholic Schaffner32: I'm so jealous Mel: hehehehe- too bad im not a boy though.sigh Schaffner32: You can be. You know you can Mel: its so true Mel: i have this funny song Schaffner32: It's ok. Schaffner32: Sing. Mel: called my vagina Mel: about a boy Mel: who is made a girl Mel: and my fav line is Mel: now i show all my friends my new designer cut! Mel: heheheheh haha Schaffner32: That's precious. Schaffner32: awww. Mel: hehe-do you enjoy those kinds of songs? Schaffner32: I just threw up. Schaffner32: I like throwing up, though. Mel: are you ok!?!!!?!?! Mel: im concerned

Schaffner32: No I don't like throwing up, don't worry. I just don't like that song very much. I'm not crying though. Mel: im taking this girl to cvs-do you want me to buy you something? Schaffner32: halls. Schaffner32: If you don't, I'll throw up. Mel: flavor? Schaffner32: I'll give you money. I don't care. It's hard to swallow Mel: hehe Mel: silly billy Mel: WHAT FRIGGIN FLAVORRRRRRRRRRRR

Schaffner32: I'm sorry. Uh, uh--uh, uh

sorry Mel: THATS IT Mel: NEVERMIND Mel: IVE Had it with you Mel: now clifford be a good boy and eat your cereal Mel: hehe Schaffner32: ok. But I don't have any cereal, ma'am. Mel: hehe Mel: what flavor halls would you like then? Mel: a suprise? Schaffner32: cereal. no, yes. a surprise would be fantastic! Mel: ok Mel: for you sugar- anyting! Mel: how many packs? Mel: one two mil? Schaffner32: two may suffice. you don't have to. I'll give you money--or cheese, but I don't have any cheese. Mel: hehe Mel: no Mel: you can pay with your life Schaffner32: I know. Mel: teehee- youll be my slave

I'm so

I

don't know!

Schaffner32: Ok. Mel: you can feed my roommate- she is SO DEMANDING! Mel: you have to pet her and wash her too Mel: take her for walks Schaffner32: Is she ugly? Schaffner32: I hope not. Mel: nope Mel: she has a little whip though Mel: she bought it

Schaffner32: Good. Then, I'll have sex with her then eat her. I don't like whips. Mel: for her dominatrix costume Schaffner32: Who's D. Omina Trix? Mel: CVS- ill bring you the goods soon Schaffner32: You betta, baba. Mel is away at 7:04 PM

*

movie tonight me tinks is bueno-me come get you-i need to buy crickets-possibly chopping?-jenga and the like-nanana

love always

spawn of evil

*

Poop is schedule for me and have to clean attic and finish school applications and such, so I think it would be better if we went to movie at school. Vacation did go by and it stopped soon or and will you see. Um I am here and now and then and you and me.

Maybe we can see Big Fish first weekend (next weekend) and we can ride the bus and maybe die. You say? How good?

Breath, Anen? ** III. Sheep and Nervous Vomiting

hate you just like hte sheep I frolicked with yesterday but I loved them but not their poop (feces) all over the ground

*

Did they really frolick? You should show me pictures of them doing that. (But not pooping)

*

Barbara [10:24 AM]: just threw up Barbara [10:24 AM]: momentous morning

Schaffner32 [10:24 AM]: good/why/describe

Barbara [10:24 AM]:

Barbara [10:25 AM]: might be b/c nervous Barbara [10:25 AM]: cause had diarrhea too Barbara [10:25 AM]: (nervous about Jake)

Barbara [10:25 AM]: but. i've never thrown up from nervousness, so maybe not\ Barbara [10:25 AM]: gonna go sleep now. bibeastie Schaffner32 [10:25 AM]: Did you save it? You could leave it by his door to show him.

Barbara [10:25 AM]:

Barbara [10:25 AM]: thanks for making laugh

Schaffner32 [10:25 AM]: so that he knows you care about him. Barbara [10:25 AM]: that is so sick

dunno

LOL!!!!

Barbara [10:25 AM]:

LOL!!!

Barbara [10:26 AM]:

LOL!!!

Barbara [10:26 AM]: I love it. bye Schaffner32 [10:26 AM]: I mean in a bag. Ok, bi Barbara [10:26 AM]: just realized had sound on and K trying to sleep bye Barbara [10:26 AM]: LOL ew bye Barbara [10:26 AM]: lol very funny though Barbara [10:26 AM]: the note could say;

Barbara [10:26 AM]: "just a little something to let you know I care"

Barbara [10:26 AM]:

Schaffner32 [10:26 AM]: I didn't think it was a bad idea really.

LOL!

Barbara [10:26 AM]: gonna sleep now. bibeeeeastie Schaffner32 [10:26 AM]: biibiibii Barbara [10:26 AM]: bi Barbara signed off at 10:26 AM

*

Barbara: I want to talk to him Schaffner32: Don't. Barbara: Nervous. I'm probbly overanalyzing

Schaffner32: Don't overanalyze or I'll throw up on you.

Barbara: But I don’t know how to act around him I like him

I don’t know if

Schaffner32: Just be natural

Don’t force anything.

Barbara: It’s hard do?

I don’t know how to do that.

What should I

Schaffner32: Force it.

*

Barbara: I really don't know what to do now that it's out in the open about Robert (code name for Jake) Schaffner32: kay. good. Barbara: huh Schaffner32: It's good that you don't know what to do. Schaffner32: It's a sign of wisdom. Barbara: what!? Barbara: lol

1:30AM

Schaffner32: I don't know what else to say. You need to live and learn, Schaffner32: baba. Barbara: baba Barbara: black sheep

Schaffner32: No, bayb', like how Ricko Iglesis says in Hero how he says it Barbara: LOL!!! Barbara: baeeebi

like

Schaffner32: exacutelly. Schaffner32: ricko iglesias. hhaa it's something else Barbara: enrique Schaffner32: enrico, I think. I wanted to mix Ricki Martin and him in half. I like how that sentence doesn't make sense and I sort of planned it after I realized it after hearing it in my head. Schaffner32: right, enrique Schaffner32: I typed enrico before you typed enrique . ha--ha. Barbara: LOL Barbara: you didn't really laugh did you? lia Schaffner32: (didn't really laugh--I didn't) Barbara: liar lair pants on fire Barbara: of course you didn't Schaffner32: I started typing that I didn't before you accused me, actually. Schaffner32: :0 Barbara: you hardly ever do smileyus Schaffner32: I'm not really smiling either. Barbara: lol course not Barbara: relaly lol Schaffner32: I only laugh when someone dies. Barbara: !! lol Schaffner32: I actually laughed as I typed that, though Barbara: LOL good' Barbara: laughing too Schaffner32: oops clicked out. what'd you just say? Barbara: just 'laughing too' Schaffner32: can you send a copy of the whole im in an email thus far? Barbara: yeah Barbara: why Barbara: for movie? Schaffner32: yes Schaffner32: FOR REAL

(not saying in excited voice)

Schaffner32: usually use im conversations for the same film call it

"funny film" (for now

don't yet have title) Barbara: LOL Barbara: send now or later?

Barbara: won't write who said what, you'll have to cipher for self Barbara: what made this convo funny Schaffner32: yeah Schaffner32: send now. Barbara: ok Barbara: do ou see pic of you Barbara: buddy icon Schaffner32: I'll have to look through it Schaffner32: Says "no idon" Barbara: o Barbara: it actually says that over "no icon"

it's my shorthand code name since

1:40AM

I

Barbara: it's a lie Schaffner32: I know. I lied. Schaffner32: I always lie

1:45AM

Schaffner32: bye Schaffner32: abrupt\ Barbara: no school tom?

Schaffner32: send me email first

with huck and duck and luck and truck and suck and buck and chuck

and gluck and juck and kuck and kucka/kaka and muck and nuck and puck and tuck and wuck and zuck Barbara [1:46 AM]: oh almost forogt Barbara [1:46 AM]: thanksk remind

Barbara [1:47 AM]:

Schaffner32 [1:48 AM]: good. never come back. tomorrow is gone

no school, tom. you can play

sent

Barbara [1:48 AM]:

Barbara [1:48 AM]: pronounced bibby

Schaffner32 [1:48 AM]: gigigig gigi! bi! It's a bibi!

bibi

Barbara [1:48 AM]:

GIG

Barbara [1:48 AM]:

GIG

Barbara [1:48 AM]:

GIGI

Schaffner32 [1:48 AM]: bibigibigibigibi BIG! Barbara [1:48 AM]: kepet meaning to type gigi Schaffner32 [1:48 AM]: bigi fry

Schaffner32 [1:49 AM]: kepet sounds like "kepetch", how I used to say "ketchup"

Barbara [1:49 AM]:

Barbara [1:49 AM]: when baby bib/ Schaffner32 [1:50 AM]: big bi beastie

It's a big bisexual beast

performing in the musical, Gigi (there actually is one, in case you didn't know)

Barbara [1:50 AM]:

Barbara [1:50 AM]: BIB now Barbara signed off at 1:50 AM ** IV. Winter Break 2003

lol

LOL!!!!

Mel [1:48 AM]: oh my Schaffner32 [1:48 AM]: qor Mel [1:48 AM]: sister is very upset Schaffner32 [1:48 AM]: I mwNR QOE Schaffner32 [1:48 AM]: OH SOW Schaffner32 [1:49 AM]: OH DEdear home position Schaffner32 [1:49 AM]: why she upset?

Mel [1:49 AM]: she lost all her stuff Mel [1:49 AM]: her computer

Mel [1:49 AM]:

cds

Mel [1:49 AM]:

clothes

I didn't have my fingers in

Schaffner32 [1:49 AM]: I'm sure they'll find it!

Mel [1:49 AM]: i hope so Mel [1:50 AM]: she did bring back guitars Mel [1:50 AM]: i got a guitar from her Mel [1:50 AM]: it rocks Mel [1:50 AM]: its a classical

Schaffner32 [1:50 AM]: a girl at my church had her luggage lost

she went to rome. She looks like an antelope; her face. It's

very disgruntled and horrid to think about; she's not very ugly, though. Mel [1:50 AM]: haha Schaffner32 [1:50 AM]: did you tell me this? Mel [1:51 AM]: my sister resembles fivel the mouse Schaffner32 [1:51 AM]: I know someone just got a guitar from

some country

Mel [1:51 AM]: end apparently

Mel [1:51 AM]: yeah- i told you- shes not so short- i think its her face that looks mousey Schaffner32 [1:52 AM]: you don't look like a mouse; maybe a mouse-deer Schaffner32 [1:52 AM]: I'm a distorted squirrel Mel [1:52 AM]: my friend told me i looked like a doe Schaffner32 [1:52 AM]: Are you sure of your birthparents? Mel [1:52 AM]: and she has pictures of me- we call them deer in the headlights Mel [1:53 AM]: maybe my real dad isabig deer Schaffner32 [1:53 AM]: I suppose. Schaffner32 [1:53 AM]: Were you drunk in those pictures?

*

too

you must've already told me;

is she short?

Barbara [3:18 PM]: water Schaffner32 [3:18 PM]: eat Barbara [3:19 PM]: yo udead? Barbara [3:19 PM]: how are exam going, when yo ugo home, tues? I go then Schaffner32 [3:20 PM]: Yes, I'm dead, of course: you simpleton. Schaffner32 [3:22 PM]: I am go home about Tues or about in then

and around and over and in and about in Tues or Weds I suppose. Barbara [3:26 PM]: bus? Barbara [3:27 PM]: I know beast

I think my

parents are picking me up. Barbara [3:28 PM]: good Schaffner32 [3:28 PM]: U? Barbara [3:28 PM]: tues, flying Barbara [3:28 PM]: 1 hour 10 min flight

Schaffner32 [3:29 PM]: shut up! no way! shut uuuuahuahp! (accompanied by stupid smile(s) and laughs ) Barbara [3:29 PM]: LOL!!!!!! Barbara [3:29 PM]: SHUT UP!! Barbara [4:20 PM]: bib Barbara [4:20 PM]: have to study a lot now Barbara [4:20 PM]: bi Barbara [4:20 PM]: beast Barbara [4:21 PM]: by tli soon!! SOON

*

Mel [3:15 PM]: hello demon. Schaffner32 [3:15 PM]: I know. I wrote before if you were home, bitch, but I suppose you were offline. Schaffner32 [3:18 PM]: You yes at home in house or elsewhere that is near or is or was or is in the area of which is in or of and or your is home or house child? Mel [3:18 PM]: yesyes Schaffner32 [3:19 PM]: good. Mel [3:19 PM]: tis a snowing like crazzzzzzzzy Schaffner32 [3:19 PM]: Here it is but doesn't appear to be coming down hard, just a lot. Mel [3:20 PM]: mmmhm Mel [3:20 PM]: mmmm Mel [3:20 PM]: hmmmm Mel [3:20 PM]: so Mel [3:21 PM]: what is up at the syracuse universitaaaaaay

Schaffner32 [3:27 PM]: No

I have too much stuff.

Schaffner32 [3:22 PM]: No. Schaffner32 [3:22 PM]: I mean nothing. (I get those words confused.) Schaffner32 [3:23 PM]: I was singing really loudly and excitely

this morning at about 9 cuz I thought Charles left my room, but he didn't. I realized this when I saw him in his bed sleeping an hour later. Schaffner32 [3:23 PM]: (I didn't kill him.) Mel [3:24 PM]: damn it Mel [3:24 PM]: you should of while you had the chance Schaffner32 [3:26 PM]: I'm waiting; you know how it is. These

things aren't as easy as they seem. I get scared. But

kill, I realize that the high and sense of power is what's valuable and

not the consequences. I (and you) should keep this in mind

well. Nobody's perfect. Mel [3:28 PM]: true. Schaffner32 [3:30 PM]: How are the kids? Schaffner32 [3:30 PM]: (I mean your family) Mel [3:31 PM]: well- lucy is a wench and carol is the devil herself Mel [3:31 PM]: all is well Schaffner32 [3:48 PM]: Of course it is Mel [3:48 PM]: memories Mel [3:49 PM]: meeeeeh Mel [3:49 PM]: its Mel [3:49 PM]: i like home Mel [3:49 PM]: when my friends are here Schaffner32 [3:49 PM]: I'm looking forward to getting out of here. I'm so sick of Trevor 's voice (hear it right now) Mel [3:49 PM]: but right now Mel [3:49 PM]: haha Mel [3:49 PM]: he is rather Mel [3:49 PM]:

whenever I

Oh,

Mel [3:50 PM]: fill in the blank Mel [3:50 PM]: icky?-viler?-odd? Mel [3:50 PM]: yo no se

what is it

Schaffner32 [3:50 PM]: (Are Lucy and Carol real people?) Mel [3:51 PM]: yeah- my mom and sis Mel [3:51 PM]: he Mel [3:51 PM]: is trevor

Schaffner32 [3:50 PM]:

who is "he"

the devil

?

] [

Schaffner32 [4:08 PM]: my dad went to North High School in Worcester

Schaffner32 [4:09 PM]:

Mel [4:09 PM]: ??? Mel [4:10 PM]: is he a loaf of bread? Mel [4:10 PM]: heheeh Mel [4:10 PM]: what do you mean

He also is 100% Syrian

Schaffner32 [4:13 PM]: I'm 1/2 swedish 1/2 loaf of bread (syrian)

it's a cool

my mom's 100 percent swedish and my dad is Syrian

mix (that's why I'm strange)

Mel [4:13 PM]: haha

Schaffner32 [4:16 PM]: I'll be back in a few minutes go potty Mel [4:16 PM]: k Mel [4:30 PM]: mommy beckonms-later gator

Schaffner32 [4:31 PM]: I'm back Do!

*

Mel [5:24 PM]: i love your hampster Mel [5:25 PM]: no? Mel [5:25 PM]: yes? Mel [5:25 PM]: ok Schaffner32 [5:25 PM]: I hoped you liked it; thanks. Mel [5:25 PM]: how was your christ-mas?

Schaffner32 [5:27 PM]: It was. Bland and tasteless like mud. Schaffner32 [5:27 PM]: Yours? Mel [5:27 PM]: hmmm Mel [5:27 PM]: same

] [

I have to

oh

Do have a good day!

Mel [5:33 PM]: i got a patriotic snowman pin Mel [5:34 PM]: so exciting! Mel [5:34 PM]: heheh Schaffner32 [5:34 PM]: I'm proud of you. You should always where it; it's something to be very, very proud of. Wow; you're so lucky Mel [5:34 PM]: i hate that type of patriotism Schaffner32 [5:35 PM]: You mean stupid "let's where red, white, and blue so we can look 'patriotic' and feel cool" patriotism? Snowmen like it. Mel [5:35 PM]: oh they do? Mel [5:35 PM]: nevermind then Schaffner32 [5:36 PM]: Got question. If you leave a message

untouched (not read) in the new mail folder for aol, is it ever deleted automatically? Hope not. Mel [5:36 PM]: i dont think so Schaffner32 [5:36 PM]: Gud. (Bless you, bloody monster.) Mel [5:37 PM]: spank you hairy demon. Schaffner32 [5:37 PM]: We gonna go somewhere and eat some fish? Only 9 days left Mel [5:37 PM]: sounds good Mel [5:38 PM]: hows about Mel [5:38 PM]: ??? Mel [5:38 PM]: i know not when Schaffner32 [5:38 PM]: fhadkso. Mel [5:38 PM]: yes Mel [5:38 PM]: thatll do fine Schaffner32 [5:38 PM]: iohasfd ishfa ohadisf hadisfo fohadis fohadis disfoha odisfha fohadis iohdsfa aosidhf fhdiaso oaisdfh idosafh aosdihf fhdisoaiohsdaf fhadioso oadishf fhadiso oaisdhf hioasdf. Schaffner32 [5:39 PM]: what you think go where?

Mel [5:39 PM]:

Schaffner32 [5:40 PM]: I know; you saw Lost in Translation? Mel [5:40 PM]: nononono

i hear japan is nice this time of day

Schaffner32 [5:40 PM]: I want to but did so I did want to but not really, but if it was that I did not yet see it, I'd want to even though I didn't really before I saw it. Mel [5:42 PM]: so Schaffner32 [5:42 PM]: (It's almost death o'clock. Where are your children?) So you want to go hiking in Vietnam or see a movie or have children or shop or eat something and die? Mel [5:42 PM]: weshall see it but not for the first time but close to the second- not quite yes? Schaffner32 [5:42 PM]: See what? Mel [5:43 PM]: that thing about those people Schaffner32 [5:43 PM]: Kindergarten? Angels? ABC? Mel [5:44 PM]: what weould you like to view devil? Mel [5:45 PM]: think on this Mel [5:45 PM]: i call you soon Mel [5:45 PM]: this weekender Mel [5:45 PM]: yesyes? Mel [5:45 PM]: ok Mel [5:46 PM]: byebye Schaffner32 [5:46 PM]: I ok. Bye. Ok? Uob. Schaffner32 [5:46 PM]: Bi ** V. Mel and the Movies, Spring Semester 2004

Mel [1:36 AM]: i fucking love you Mel [1:36 AM]: you fuck Schaffner32 [1:36 AM]: I fucking eat your fuck Mel [1:36 AM]: doubly.

Schaffner32 [1:38 AM]: I was just going to send something rather

I decided not to unless you want to read it

Mel [1:39 AM]: what type of disturbing? Schaffner32 [1:39 AM]: dead baby joke disturbing Mel [1:40 AM]: send it Schaffner32 [1:40 AM]: "If you ever have a baby, you know I'll eat it before you can ever fuck it!"

disturbing

Schaffner32 [1:40 AM]: I wrote it without really thinking using word "fuck" with different ideas Mel [1:41 AM]: i know sweetie

Mel [1:41 AM]: heheh

Schaffner32 [1:41 AM]: Thank you bunchkin honeyface.

Mel [1:41 AM]: bunchkinface

Mel [1:41 AM]: i like that

Schaffner32 [1:42 AM]: I just pictured you in a giant hornet nest

thick, engulfing honey which you choke on

and suffocate with althroughout your descencion into an eternal grave of netheflore. Mel [1:42 AM]: cops is the most sad show ever Schaffner32 [1:42 AM]: "honey" made me think Schaffner32 [1:42 AM]: why cops? Mel [1:42 AM]: because its real people and they are sad people Schaffner32 [1:43 AM]: they should just have a show of them all drowning in honey, then? Schaffner32 [1:43 AM]: well, I guess the better verb would be "suffocating" in honey

Mel [1:43 AM]: true.

drowning in honey

was just

Mel [1:43 AM]: i think it would be less sad if they did that - yes! Mel [1:43 AM]: a solution!

Schaffner32 [1:44 AM]: not sad

vindicating

envigorating

vivifying

and

sexy.

Mel [1:44 AM]: hehehe

 

Schaffner32 [1:44 AM]: you know

hehehe

Mel [1:44 AM]:

hehe?

Mel [1:44 AM]:

he?

Schaffner32 [1:45 AM]: many he's Schaffner32 [1:46 AM]: steve, green sweater boy, and george Mel [1:47 AM]: true true Mel [1:47 AM]: i have no hes Mel [1:47 AM]: tooo bad Schaffner32 [1:48 AM]: he, he, and he. oh, don't worry. I don't "have" all of them, yet. I just have their souls. You can too.

Mel [1:48 AM]: please? Schaffner32 [1:49 AM]: you know how

Mel [1:50 AM]: cut off there hairs and put it in honey!?!!?

Mel [1:52 AM]:

noyes?

Mel [1:52 AM]:

tim.

Schaffner32 [2:00 AM]: (sigh) honey

Mel [2:00 AM]:

sigh

Mel [2:00 AM]:

tim

you have to follow your heart,

Schaffner32 [2:00 AM]: sorry I was gone for so long. I promise that I'll never leave you nor forsake you or be a bad god. Mel [2:00 AM]: thank you jesus. Schaffner32 [2:01 AM]: thank YOU, Martha. Mel [2:01 AM]: teehee Schaffner32 [2:02 AM]: it's not a joke. Mel [2:02 AM]: i know

Schaffner32 [2:02 AM]:

Mel [2:02 AM]: i like you tim

Mel [2:02 AM]: you make a good person-thingy

I think that I wish I was better at

being water, though) you make a bad sponge, but a good house- wife Mel [2:03 AM]: i wish i were a better sponge- but how i love to wash dish! Schaffner32 [2:04 AM]: I wash dish when my don is dead; he comes and gets replacement but then again by he I mean him or another person who is not dead you know and feet. Schaffner32 [2:04 AM]: do you like apples? Mel [2:11 AM]: sometimes Schaffner32 [2:11 AM]: good. I look like a girl in this shirt Mel [2:12 AM]: sex. Schaffner32 [2:13 AM]: I know. knowie actually is a better word. It sounds nicer and they should've chosen it in the court of law over that other one. Mel: whats time we go to movie?

Schaffner32 [2:03 AM]: (thanks

ok.

Schaffner32: fuck you bitch Mel: okay!

Schaffner32: I'd rather eat your hair than eat you Mel: so 2? Mel: hehe

have you eaten yet? the last bus leaves the mall

at like 6 so we have to be done at the mall by then the fucking movie times now Mel: im gonna look p times Mel: NO ILL CHECK THEM BEEEAITCH

Schaffner32: ock. (one syllable work over two-syllable "o.k.") Mel: its at 410 Mel: shitter

Schaffner32: shitter momma Mel: hold ons Mel: 2h 6m

Schaffner32: oh I have to check the schedule in my room til I know for sure

do you want to do that for me? I'll give you my key a few people and am lazy. I'll make you my slave. Mel: im not yo bitch mama Schaffner32: I aint yo mama, bitch Mel: clever devil Schaffner32: did you eat yet? Mel: no chupa

Schaffner32: I so hungry

dining and maybe if it turns out bus sched is good then we go? Mel: yes maam

Schaffner32: ock Mel: ockggle

Schaffner32: yes indeed, Evil One. Mel: byebye skank

*

Mel [4:43 PM]: quick shower Schaffner32 [4:44 PM]: not quick enough

I have to check

Schaffner32: uhhh

but actually

how long is it?

I'm talking to

maybe I go to room then meet you at

I'll go to room now.

Mel [4:45 PM]: mwa Mel [4:45 PM]: haha? Schaffner32 [4:45 PM]: no.

Schaffner32 [4:45 PM]: this isn't a joke. not this time, barabara. Schaffner32 [4:46 PM]: you masterpiece of dwelv-ed-anchorchiefs. Mel [4:47 PM]: yep Schaffner32 [4:48 PM]: don't be fresh with me, kaka-faced-lunikar of hennity. Mel [4:55 PM]: poopooey Mel [4:55 PM]: on Mel [4:55 PM]: youey Schaffner32 [4:56 PM]: eat your OWN shit, Lutard. Mel [4:57 PM]: are you calling me a TARD?!!?!?! Schaffner32 [4:57 PM]: a LUtard. Mel [4:57 PM]: yeah Mel [4:57 PM]: well Mel [4:58 PM]: youre a pootard Schaffner32 [4:59 PM]: I know that. So when is bus coming? Schaffner32 [4:59 PM]: I'm peeing now Schaffner32 [4:59 PM]: I mean I am going to potty-room. Will be back on a day like this sometime. Mel [5:00 PM]: i Mel [5:00 PM]: love Mel [5:00 PM]: pee Mel [5:00 PM]: who would a thought? Schaffner32 [5:02 PM]: Today is the day of return. Here I am. And I peed. Schaffner32 [5:02 PM]: Peeed, rather. Mel [5:02 PM]: congrats Mel [5:02 PM]: im way wicked proud stoked Mel [5:15 PM]: dinig hall at 530 beeeaitch Mel [5:16 PM]: be there Mel is away at 5:17 PM

on phone with mom; tiet came in and

said "gayly" "tim, ready for our date?" and I was quick to explain

Schaffner32 [5:17 PM]: k

I'm going in a GROUP Mel [5:17 PM]: HAHA Mel [5:17 PM]: CUTE Mel [5:17 PM]: byebey'

Schaffner32 [5:17 PM]: bi

*

Mel [2:51 PM]: sucky sucky? Schaffner32 [2:51 PM]: playing flute loudly, shaved chest, stomach, and croch Mel [2:51 PM]: no way Mel [2:51 PM]: no Mel [2:51 PM]: way Mel [2:52 PM]: isnt it crotch? Schaffner32 [2:52 PM]: oh, yeah. I knew it looked funny.

Schaffner32 [2:52 PM]: want to have sex in sand and fog in a house with jennifer connelly? Mel [2:54 PM]: tonight? Mel [2:54 PM]: what time? Mel [2:54 PM]: look em up hoho Schaffner32 [2:55 PM]: sure, fucky poopy face Mel [2:59 PM]: ehem? Schaffner32 [3:01 PM]: 3:25 , 7:10 , 10:00 Mel [3:01 PM]: 710? Mel [3:01 PM]: ? Mel [3:01 PM]: ??? Schaffner32 [3:01 PM]: two movies or just one? Mel [3:01 PM]: ???????? Mel [3:01 PM]: ???? Mel [3:01 PM]: ? Mel [3:02 PM]: whens the last bus? Mel [3:02 PM]: we can sneak in to 2 Mel [3:02 PM]: is there a bus at 12?

Schaffner32 [3:03 PM]: don't know

free

bus

Mel [3:03 PM]: kkk

:)

it says somewhere

not sure of sched will check thou

Schaffner32 [3:04 PM]: I love those people. Mel [3:04 PM]: its like cub scouts with cooler uniforms Mel [3:07 PM]: oh fuckface Mel [3:07 PM]: lets go to the 10 Mel [3:07 PM]: what say you?

Schaffner32 [3:08 PM]: but, what if bus ain't come back at later when we be done and take taxi? Mel [3:08 PM]: yesm Mel [3:08 PM]: me tinks wed end up taking one anywho Mel [3:09 PM]: kkk? Mel [3:09 PM]: k. Schaffner32 [3:09 PM]: well, we could make it so we wouldn't

have to if you want

Mel [3:10 PM]: no Mel [3:10 PM]: me tinks its like Mel [3:10 PM]: 8 bucks Mel [3:10 PM]: 4 + 4? Schaffner32 [3:12 PM]: ADULT: $8.25 SENIOR: $6.00 CHILD: $6.00 Mel [3:13 PM]: for the cab turd

Schaffner32 [3:13 PM]: YOU will only have to pay $6 because

you're a child

Mel [3:13 PM]: true. Mel [3:13 PM]: and you will pay 6 Mel [3:14 PM]: poor excuse for an elderly childmolester if i ever saw one Schaffner32 [3:14 PM]: I try. Mel [3:19 PM]: so what bus should we take?

Schaffner32 [3:28 PM]: 910 bus to get there at 943; 758 to get there

at 828; I'd rather latter b/c would like to get a few things

But, if we went for 710 film, could take bus back and save money. What think? Mel [3:29 PM]: why does it take so long to get there? Mel [3:29 PM]: me tinks there is a direct bus on friday

you don't mind payiiing?

an immature excuse for the mother that you are.

you?

Mel [3:33 PM]: okok

Mel [3:33 PM]: i want to buys some things too Mel [3:33 PM]: so Mel [3:33 PM]: wait

Schaffner32 [3:33 PM]: yea

other one Mel [3:34 PM]: hmmmm Mel [3:38 PM]: 605 from bb Mel [3:38 PM]: ?? Mel [3:38 PM]: ? Mel [3:38 PM]: ? Mel [3:38 PM]: ?/// Mel [3:38 PM]: one of the buses leaves Schaffner32 [3:40 PM]: where didst thou hear this. Mel [3:40 PM]: billy Schaffner32 [3:40 PM]: who the bloody hell is he????!!!!!!! Mel [3:41 PM]: my bitch.

Schaffner32 [3:41 PM]: I know that, you bloody fool from Hell's mouth!!!!!!!!!!!!!

where did you really hear that? I

Schaffner32 [3:48 PM]: sooo

I don't have

dat's the sched I have

know you were lying about Billy. Mel [3:48 PM]: Bill Mel [3:48 PM]: he vants to come Mel [3:48 PM]: vith tiet Mel [3:48 PM]: what say you? Mel [3:48 PM]: kkk?

Schaffner32 [3:51 PM]: oh Mel [3:52 PM]: good

Mel [3:52 PM]: he and tiet are coming

Schaffner32 [3:53 PM]: I mean

Schaffner32 [3:53 PM]: good Mel [3:53 PM]: yummay Schaffner32 [3:55 PM]: ask billy where he knows the brewster time from Mel [3:56 PM]: some schedile he has

really? Bill on my floor? I love him.

I love how he tastes

Schaffner32 [3:56 PM]: I don't believe him right now. Mel [3:57 PM]: dont hurt him

Schaffner32 [3:57 PM]: never mind

to the carousel before. if he says no, only *then* I'll hurt him, don't worry. Mel [3:58 PM]: yea he hast Schaffner32 [3:58 PM]: is that supposed to be "has" or "hasn't" you silly little no-fingered handicap! Mel is away at 3:59 PM Mel [3:59 PM]: has Schaffner32 [3:59 PM]: fine. He better believe himself or else he'll be not again and again and thus unconqueshed. Mel [4:00 PM]: kkk [ ] Schaffner32 [4:08 PM]: I ain't a stupid blowhole, Mary. Mel [4:08 PM]: yes you are Mel [4:08 PM]: your my fav blowhole Schaffner32 [4:08 PM]: thank you. Mel [4:14 PM]: meet me downstairs Mel [4:14 PM]: we are going to buy crickets Mel [4:14 PM]: nownow Schaffner32 [4:15 PM]: what? Mel [4:16 PM]: we need to take a taxi Mel [4:16 PM]: to get crickets Mel [4:16 PM]: for my gecko Mel [4:16 PM]: nownow Mel [4:16 PM]: NOW Mel [4:16 PM]: does your phone work?

ask him if he's used it to go

I'm going to his room

Schaffner32 [4:16 PM]: yes

Mel [4:16 PM]: nono Mel [4:16 PM]: can you call sutaxi and tell them to come to bb Mel [4:17 PM]: we need to be driven to 3150 eerie blvd. Mel [4:17 PM]: to petco Mel [4:17 PM]: im paying- i just want some company

call and explain now.

Mel [4:18 PM]: ?? Schaffner32 [4:18 PM]: how far is? Mel [4:18 PM]: like 2 miles Mel [4:18 PM]: are ye calling? Mel [4:18 PM]: quickly son! Schaffner32 [4:19 PM]: ok. I need pants Mel [4:19 PM]: k Mel [4:22 PM]: ??/

Schaffner32 [4:22 PM]: first place said they have nothing available

until 530/6

Mel [4:22 PM]: did you call Mel [4:22 PM]: su taxi?

Schaffner32 [4:23 PM]: yeah

places

there are many numbers for diff taxi

I'll call in a minute

I'll call another place

I'll call another now

Mel [4:23 PM]: nono Mel [4:23 PM]: its Mel [4:23 PM]: 4SUTAXI Mel [4:23 PM]: is the number Schaffner32 [4:25 PM]: 1800 or 1315

called 3 more places and

they ALLL said they have NOTHING available for an HOUR?? I'll try this place Schaffner32 [4:25 PM]: 800 or 315? Mel [4:25 PM]: the ara code one Mel [4:25 PM]: area code

Schaffner32 [4:26 PM]:

yes

.

I already called that one

I'm

serious. this is weeeeird. call for yourself and see what I mean

I

called 3 places

from SU Mel [4:26 PM]: or is it 443- damn it Mel [4:27 PM]: im so confused Mel [4:27 PM]: hmmm

Schaffner32 [4:27 PM]: I looked at the numbers/letters on them,

I'm confused too! How

and SUTAXI corresponds to one I dialed

the only three places I have on this list received

can they ALLLL have NOTHING available? Schaffner32 [4:27 PM]: maybe b/c of storm??? I donno

Mel [4:27 PM]: true Schaffner32 [4:28 PM]: I really don't understand.

Mel [4:28 PM]: my poor little gecko will have to go without food for a day Mel [4:28 PM]: the place closes at 5 Schaffner32 [4:28 PM]: is there a place at the mall? Mel [4:28 PM]: i dont think so Mel [4:28 PM]: its ok Mel [4:29 PM]: the book says he can go up to a week Mel [4:29 PM]: without food Mel [4:29 PM]: so Mel [4:29 PM]: i think a day is alright Mel [4:31 PM]: k Mel [4:31 PM]: shower time Mel [4:31 PM]: must go Mel [4:31 PM]: i smell

Schaffner32 [4:31 PM]: oh shit

you should email him and tell

him to eat you or that you should eat him or request either of him Mel [4:32 PM]: hell be good Mel [4:32 PM]: he ate three last night Mel [4:32 PM]: so hes ggoood Mel [4:32 PM]: kkk Mel [4:32 PM]: peace Schaffner32 [4:33 PM]: have good showa

*

Schaffner32 [1:03 AM]: Hi. How are you? Obviously I'm kidding; I mean to say that I wish to eat you. Mel is away at 1:04 AM Mel [1:04 AM]: i am fine Mel [1:04 AM]: and by that Mel [1:04 AM]: i mean Mel [1:04 AM]: i want you to eat me Mel [1:04 AM]: goodnight my cannibalistic love Mel [1:05 AM]: i will see the on the morrow

Schaffner32 [1:05 AM]: yes

I'll finally do my reading now

** VI. Randomness

Yanks42423 [11:28 PM]: u there fuckha Auto response from Schaffner32 [11:28 PM]: "

argue that

marriage is for procreation, but if so, a fertility test as well as a blood test would be required. " Yanks42423 [11:38 PM]: gotta ask you something when you get up or get back or wherever the fuck ya are Yanks42423 [11:39 PM]: good bye porter Schaffner32 [1:39 AM]: yes? Auto response from Yanks42423 [1:39 AM]: As Ahnold would say "I'll be bach" Yanks42423 [1:40 AM]: were you the one that busted the suite?

Schaffner32 [1:40 AM]:

Schaffner32 [1:40 AM]: how'd you hear Schaffner32 [1:40 AM]: it was Trevor Yanks42423 [1:40 AM]: my roommate was in there Yanks42423 [1:40 AM]: WHAT? Schaffner32 [1:40 AM]: Trevor said I should before so that's why I suspect it was him

Schaffner32 [1:40 AM]: I don't think it's right to "rat" people out Yanks42423 [1:41 AM]: exactly Schaffner32 [1:41 AM]: they all probably assume it was me though cuz I always them to turn their loud obnoxious bass down Yanks42423 [1:41 AM]: i wasnt here my roommate told me Schaffner32 [1:42 AM]: why would Trevor do it though when he's been in there on similar occasions Schaffner32 [1:42 AM]: what'd he say "Tim ratted us out"? Yanks42423 [1:42 AM]: no, but he said that you complained Yanks42423 [1:42 AM]: he didnt accuse you Yanks42423 [1:44 AM]: its funny you mentioned that trevor was acting weird earlier

Schaffner32 [1:44 AM]: is he maybe

Schaffner32 [1:45 AM]: sometimes bodies still flinch after they

some

nope

dead?

have died Yanks42423 [1:46 AM]: i dont know but he has something against

diego and adam, because they said he cheated in the basketball pool

Schaffner32 [1:46 AM]: childish childish

how much did he get? Yanks42423 [1:49 AM]: thats the thing he got disqualified so tyler and i split the money because we tied for second Yanks42423 [1:49 AM]: and he claimed he didnt cheat Yanks42423 [1:50 AM]: but adam diego didnt believe him and now there is thing between them so their is motive for this action Schaffner32 [1:51 AM]: he'll probably deny it and say it was me

he probably would've rather me do it so he wouldn't get the wrap but then when I said no he must've Schaffner32 [1:57 AM]: why are you dead? Yanks42423 [1:59 AM]: because you are a fucking sewer dwelling piece of shit scumbag motha-fuckha Schaffner32 [1:59 AM]: like yo mamma Schaffner32 [2:00 AM]: ooh snap! Yanks42423 [2:00 AM]: crackle and pop Schaffner32 [2:01 AM]: mmhhHHHHHMMmmmm

Y a n k s 4 2 4 2 3

ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhuh Schaffner32 [2:05 AM]: so what's your favorite cat? Yanks42423 [2:06 AM]: i hate cats Yanks42423 [2:06 AM]: im an africanized bee person myself they make the best pets Yanks42423 [2:06 AM]: for sure Schaffner32 [2:07 AM]: so everything from Africa is bad you say? Yanks42423 [2:08 AM]: i didnt say that i said africanized bees make the best pets wat are you talking about you fucking cunt Schaffner32 [2:08 AM]: you're an awful sexist villain from Detroit Yanks42423 [2:11 AM]: yes of course Schaffner32 [2:12 AM]: don't state the obvious so often, it makes you appear brudish! Schaffner32 [2:14 AM]: and also dull or creatious!

did he win that thing?

[ 2 : 0 4

A M ] :

Yanks42423 [2:14 AM]: smart thinking and while your at it why dont you beat on your cock and balls for a while Schaffner32 [2:14 AM]: only if you'll dance naked for me

Schaffner32 [2:20 AM]:

Yanks42423 [2:21 AM]: good it will help you avoid cancer

well

you don't *have* to

Yanks42423 [2:24 AM]:

right

Schaffner32 [2:25 AM]:

exactly

Schaffner32 [2:25 AM]: I was peeing just now Schaffner32 [2:28 AM]: into a baby's throat Schaffner32 [2:29 AM]: I drank a lot of water before so I knew I'd pee for a long time so that it'd be long enough for the baby to suffocate from pee pouring into its trachea and preventing sweet,

ripe breath that is so invigorating to witness in its most vulnerable moments and finally taken away by me, making me feel so much more powerful and spirited. Yanks42423 [2:35 AM]: :-) Schaffner32 [2:35 AM]: now I'll come to pee in your throat as you sleep

Schaffner32 [2:36 AM]: you never just type smileys

were too turned on by the thought of the baby dying Schaffner32 [2:37 AM]: :) sweet dreams/death

*

shaggy1231232001: what is your name? shaggy1231232001: ?? Tim: pipu shaggy1231232001: huh Tim: well, the full version is dahki-pipu Tim: but it's kind of embarassing shaggy1231232001: wrong person

Tim: glad you aren't making fun of it like most ppl do shaggy1231232001: huh shaggy1231232001: that is your name

Tim: geez! what is wrong with ppl

is there a problem??? Tim: My dad's family is Indian so they chose my first name for me

yes, my name is dahki-pipu.

I guess you

shaggy1231232001: ok shaggy1231232001: i was not making fun of your name Tim: ready? the full name is dahki-pipu lafti lafti genitalianiss shaggy1231232001: ok shaggy1231232001: cool Tim: most ppl just call me pipu genitalia though

Tim: can you imagine elementary school where I got called pipi and

pupu? you try living with it

shaggy1231232001: are you serious Tim: there you go again! I'm crying now! I'm just crying ahhhhh!!!!!!!! Tim: I hear the voices all over again shaggy1231232001: sorry Tim: mocking children shaggy1231232001: i am not trying to make fun of you shaggy1231232001: really Tim: peepee! poopoo! shaggy1231232001: i just think it is an unusual name is all

Tim: I'm just going to eat myself! Ahh! There I go! there goes a chunk of flesh! look what you've made me do!!!!! Tim: well, it's not unusual!

shaggy1231232001:

Tim: don't worry

I have a flesh-eating problem; it's not usually

with me, though; it's usually with people I start getting close to. and

then it happens

shaggy1231232001: ok now you are just acting weird Tim: weird??? are you making fun of me again!!! shaggy1231232001: sleep deprievity creeping in Tim: hehehe

Tim: actually

shaggy1231232001: that is what i thought shaggy1231232001: nice story though Tim: I know; thank you shaggy1231232001: hehe

*

what were my parents thinking

it's a reported condition so I have an excuse

my name is Tim

thescottydoo: hey timdb85: hey what's up?

thescottydoo: nothing much, yourself? timdb85: I'm eating a penguin, you? timdb85: :-) thescottydoo: the poor penguin! timdb85: and he was cute too :-(

*

timdb85: do you have any grandchildren?

LaVieBoheme1221: personally timdb85: hehe

timdb85: you could have a one-year-old grand child by now

timdb85: when you were twelve was 9 timdb85: it's very possible LaVieBoheme1221: true

LaVieBoheme1221: but

LaVieBoheme1221: you have any grand kids? timdb85: of course, I have seven! timdb85: no. timdb85: would like one, though.

*

mirililly [3:58 PM]: hey timmy! Schaffner32 [3:59 PM]: helloooooooo! How is Charlie in the bathed morning sun? mirililly [3:59 PM]: simply marvelous! and thyself? Schaffner32 [4:00 PM]: Only what is not of thine elinguished masterpiece. Schaffner32 [4:00 PM]: How is band if you art thou in? mirililly [4:01 PM]: oh i am mirililly [4:01 PM]: its still great :) mirililly [4:01 PM]: hows college treating you? mirililly [4:01 PM]: i havent seen you in ages! i miss you Schaffner32 [4:03 PM]: I'm not real, don't worry. College is angry with me, but it gave me good ratings, yet it's too strict a bit with

and then when your daughter

no

not really

policies which I need to adapt to so we can better get along. :) I like most things about it. mirililly [4:04 PM]: lol mirililly [4:04 PM]: well thats good

*

Tim: so how's your love life? Tim: a bit personal, sorry jasowu: its ok jasowu: um jasowu: just dating jasowu: i guess jasowu: pining on occasion for a past guy jasowu: but getting over that Tim: good; healthy to keep dating after a breakup Tim: though of course I've never really dated or been in a relationship, I know what's good to do jasowu: its hard jasowu: but yunno jasowu: kinda just getting myself back togethere Tim: we should all be born ajoined to a soul mate whom we are compatible with in every way and would never think of breaking up with jasowu: you and me jasowu: hehe Tim: who knows Tim: no two people are "perfect" for each other though jasowu: well certainly Tim: i like to state obvious facts like I invented them jasowu: its good to sound confident jasowu: jsut not arrogant jasowu: hehe Tim: apdy jasowu: what is that Tim: I wrote that cuz I didn't know what to say jasowu: go to bed

Tim: so I thought if i typed something you wouldn't notice that it was nonsense

*

Diana: tim you're still online Schaffner32: I'm in the lobby of "our" dorm now

Diana: is Charles in the room Schaffner32: he went home for wkend! Yah! Diana: it seemed like he always went home for the weekend Schaffner32: baby Diana: do his parents pick him up Diana: or does he get a ride

Schaffner32: I dunno. he never tells me anything and I hence don't really caya Diana: oh Diana: you can go on AIM from the lobby of the dorm

Schaffner32: maybe he'll crash on his way back

Schaffner32: oh yeah Diana: wow Schaffner32: my internet explorer isn't working so I have to use AOL on my laptop so my family can't use online and they get madddddddddddddddddd and eat children Diana: why is your internet explorer not working Diana: don't you have the ethernet cable

Schaffner32: I'm humming ethnically (middle-eastern-y) and I have 400+ viruses and I never brought it for a repair after it was

diagnosed

Diana: i doubt you have 400+ viruses Diana: i think your computer would be dead if you had 400+ viruses Schaffner32: that's what they told me Schaffner32: do you doubt CMS????!!!! Diana: what is CMS Schaffner32: They showed me the diagnosis program's results and that's what it said. Computer and Media Services, foo'. Diana: oh Diana: i forgot

was in room

hopefully.

I should

Diana: hmmm

Schaffner32: pretending I'm drumming bongos which are really the computer table now Diana: haha Schaffner32: you should be too Diana: i wish a dining hall or something was open Diana: it stinks when you want to eat and you can't Schaffner32: where have you eaten? just eating walls/carpeting, etc.? Diana: yeah Diana: the usual Diana: sometimes i eat chapstick Schaffner32: you're such an animal. Schaffner32: do you really? Diana: yeah Schaffner32: no you don't Diana: and notebooks Schaffner32: nutuh giiahrl Diana: how should i respond to that Schaffner32: I said nut-uh "girl" with a ghetto accent Diana: what does "nut-uh" mean Schaffner32: say it out loud and you'll know Schaffner32: don't pronounce the t very much Schaffner32: it's more nuh(t)-uh. Diana: oh Diana: maybe i'll try it Schaffner32: I'm going to have to log off and then on again. Diana: ok Schaffner32: all betta Diana: good i'm glad Diana: r u in your room now

I had to refresh aol here to see pics someone sent

Schaffner32: no

me in an email Schaffner32: it was yo mamma Diana: i don't have a mom

Schaffner32: awkward Diana: j/k

Diana: i have a mom but i don't really like her Schaffner32: ohhhhhhhhhhhhh good

Schaffner32: I know you do, anyway

guess :-) Schaffner32: that would suck if you were serious I'd eat myself, you know. Diana: no i'm not serious Schaffner32: I know. Schaffner32: can you poop on the floor, please? Diana: technically yeah Schaffner32: sorry, "would you?" Diana: in the bathroom Diana: you'd have to; you can't hold it in

Schaffner32: I mean, would you please do it on the floor. I just want

for you and me;

I just forgot for a minute I

sorry about that.

to see what happens

say you wanted to introduce yourself in a unique way. I'm just curious to how they'd react and how that'd play out

Diana: hey i have to go to the health center to fill out some forms Diana: yeah i might do that Diana: i'll talk to you later ok Diana: bye

*

fivelittlemonkeys: should save some profound thoughts for tomorrow

I don't think I've ever

Schaffner32: you're not a rat

seen, and I've definitely never spoken with a rat

actually, do it on your roommate's bed and

are

you?

fivelittlemonkeys: being a cat person i wouldnt think you would have fivelittlemonkeys: if your cats are worth anything

Schaffner32: I think my cats are rats

fivelittlemonkeys: bats are bald rats in french fivelittlemonkeys: bye fivelittlemonkeys: i have to go

because it all rhymes.

Schaffner32: I'm not that good at French, I just remember that seniore means tomato. Goodbye."

*

lilmacdaddy80: I have alot of bills in April lilmacdaddy80: taxes and all lilmacdaddy80: and car registration and inspectioini lilmacdaddy80: insurance , car and credit cards lilmacdaddy80: ugghhhhh Schaffner32: stinks Schaffner32: just run away! Schaffner32: :-) ** VII. Summer to Fall 2004

Diana [10:30 PM]: James! Diana [10:30 PM]: so you didn't call my house Diana [10:30 PM]: ! Schaffner32 [10:31 PM]: no, sorry. Diana [10:31 PM]: is this James? Diana [10:31 PM]: that i'm talking to Schaffner32 [10:33 PM]: that's what I signed the email as! Diana [10:33 PM]: yeah Diana [10:33 PM]: so who called my house then? Diana [10:33 PM]: Bob? Diana [10:34 PM]: your other personality Diana [10:38 PM]: .ok i'm gonna take a shower

Schaffner32 [10:38 PM]: no; jeremy. I don't know who the fuck. Diana [10:38 PM]: what Diana [10:38 PM]: who the fuck what? Schaffner32 [10:39 PM]: you the fuck. Diana [10:39 PM]: tim! Diana [10:39 PM]: that's mean Diana is away at 10:39 PM Schaffner32 [10:40 PM]: mean? what are you talking about?

*

Schaffner32 [4:06 PM]: hey Mel [4:07 PM]: hello kitten Mel [4:07 PM]: guess what? Mel [4:07 PM]: andrea cut off her finger! Mel [4:07 PM]: a piece Schaffner32 [4:07 PM]: you bought one? Mel [4:07 PM]: of her thumb Schaffner32 [4:07 PM]: Andrea oh no! Schaffner32 [4:07 PM]: I remember her Schaffner32 [4:07 PM]: did she go to the hospital? (duh) Schaffner32 [4:08 PM]: did they sew it back on? Mel [4:09 PM]: no they couldnt find it Mel [4:09 PM]: so the top of her thumb is missing Schaffner32 [4:09 PM]: eww Mel [4:09 PM]: mmmmmmmhm Schaffner32 [4:09 PM]: meat chopper? Schaffner32 [4:10 PM]: oh I assumed it happened at work Schaffner32 [4:12 PM]: how'd it happ? Mel [4:13 PM]: meat chopper Mel [4:13 PM]: turkey to be evact Mel [4:13 PM]: exact Schaffner32 [4:13 PM]: blood flavored turkey Schaffner32 [4:13 PM]: well I'm glad it happened to her Schaffner32 [4:17 PM]: hey, do you have a banquet tomorrow night at 7? Mel [4:20 PM]: wha? Schaffner32 [4:20 PM]: oh, guess not. Just wondering. Mel [4:21 PM]: do ye? Schaffner32 [4:22 PM]: ok, I was just hoping because this girl who I've been ignoring for a long time has a party and my parents and I are invited and I have to find an excuse not to go Schaffner32 [4:22 PM]: I'll just say you or someone have a banquet and invited me Schaffner32 [4:22 PM]: haha Mel [4:24 PM]: when is this

Mel [4:24 PM]: ? Mel [4:24 PM]: tomm? Schaffner32 [4:24 PM]: yeah Mel [4:24 PM]: you can come over Mel [4:25 PM]: im not doing nothing Schaffner32 [4:25 PM]: I was just making a joke Schaffner32 [4:25 PM]: I never want to see you again, really Schaffner32 [4:25 PM]: a have a picture of you that I poop on every night Mel [4:25 PM]: hahaha Mel [4:25 PM]: thank god. Schaffner32 [4:26 PM]: I know Mel [4:26 PM]: i pee on yours Schaffner32 [4:26 PM]: I know!! Schaffner32 [4:26 PM]: but do you want to see the manchurian candidate maybe? Mel [4:26 PM]: i sawed it Mel [4:26 PM]: twas good Schaffner32 [4:26 PM]: ooo Mel [4:26 PM]: we could see something else Mel [4:27 PM]: possibly Schaffner32 [4:27 PM]: possibly Schaffner32 [4:27 PM]: we don't have to Schaffner32 [4:27 PM]: but anything is possible Mel [4:28 PM]: or we could do elsesomething Mel [4:28 PM]: hah Schaffner32 [4:28 PM]: find George? Schaffner32 [4:28 PM]: no Schaffner32 [4:28 PM]: I don't know who that is Mel [4:28 PM]: hah Mel [4:28 PM]: yes you do Mel [4:28 PM]: hes the tighty whitey boy Schaffner32 [4:28 PM]: mmmmMMMMMmmmm Schaffner32 [4:28 PM]: I didn't mean that Mel [4:29 PM]: yes you did

Mel [4:29 PM]: biatchoo. Schaffner32 [4:29 PM]: we can search for male prostitutes maybe Mel [4:29 PM]: now must i to work Mel [4:30 PM]: yesyes! Mel [4:30 PM]: i call you tomm Mel [4:30 PM]: byes Schaffner32 [4:30 PM]: help me think of an explanation first tho Schaffner32 [4:30 PM]: cool Mel [4:30 PM]: come over Mel [4:30 PM]: ok Mel [4:30 PM]: bye Schaffner32 [4:30 PM]: come when? Mel [4:31 PM]: tomm at 530 Mel [4:31 PM]: kkk

Schaffner32 [4:31 PM]: yes; I'll think of what the purpose of the banquet will be Schaffner32 [4:31 PM]: maybe for the kkk? Mel [4:31 PM]: okey! Schaffner32 [4:31 PM]: yes, to benefit racism Mel [4:31 PM]: must go Schaffner32 [4:31 PM]: cool Mel [4:31 PM]: i call tomm Mel [4:31 PM]: or tonight later Schaffner32 [4:31 PM]: k; sorry to hold you; bye Mel [4:31 PM]: byes Schaffner32 [4:31 PM]: have a good day

*

Mel [8:13 PM]: cest bon vive? Schaffner32 [8:14 PM]: oui Mel [8:14 PM]: that looks like french Mel [8:14 PM]: is it? Mel [8:14 PM]: vive is spanish me tinks Schaffner32 [8:14 PM]: yes; it is "yes"/"wee" Mel [8:14 PM]: coooool Schaffner32 [8:18 PM]: how are oui?

Schaffner32 [8:19 PM]: how are you? Schaffner32 [8:20 PM]: I was trying to be clever, but I forgot how stupid you are. Schaffner32 [8:20 PM]: :) Mel [8:22 PM]: oh Mel [8:22 PM]: indeed! Mel [8:22 PM]: im jammin Mel [8:22 PM]: you? Schaffner32 [8:22 PM]: just got job as Host at cracker barrell in sturbridge in addition to one at pizza place Mel [8:23 PM]: so you like the hosyting ey? Schaffner32 [8:23 PM]: yessum Schaffner32 [8:24 PM]: like other place cuz they don't really have as many rules as cracker barrell and I can work on writing there Mel [8:25 PM]: do you have to dress up? Schaffner32 [8:26 PM]: yeah that too; really strict dress close; always have to be clean shaven, especially in the pubic area Mel [8:31 PM]: haha Schaffner32 [8:35 PM]: when should I come? Mel [8:39 PM]: next weekend? Schaffner32 [8:40 PM]: it could be possible; don't know if I'll have to work on Saturdays for this job though; I'm going to ask for Saturday off Schaffner32 [8:40 PM]: I mean Saturdays in general off or otherwise I'd never have a day off Schaffner32 [8:43 PM]: Every day I pray for your death. Mel [8:43 PM]: thank you. Mel [8:43 PM]: as do i you? Mel [8:43 PM]: no i pray your pets will die Mel [8:44 PM]: so you will live and suffer Schaffner32 [8:44 PM]: and thank you as well Schaffner32 [8:44 PM]: If I come next weekend we can go sledding! Or apple picking? Schaffner32 [8:45 PM]: too gay; maybe just hang out Schaffner32 [8:46 PM]: which could be interpreted as leading to a

killing spree Mel [8:48 PM]: hehe Mel [8:48 PM]: indeed Schaffner32 [8:53 PM]: but you have plans any at all? Mel [8:54 PM]: to screw your mom Mel [8:54 PM]: thats all Schaffner32 [8:54 PM]: none besides, like any events you wanted to go to? Mel [8:54 PM]: hmmm Mel [8:54 PM]: i dont know Mel [8:54 PM]: ill check Mel [8:55 PM]: there are some comedians coming soon Schaffner32 [8:55 PM]: hmmie Schaffner32 [8:56 PM]: it's not like we have to have anything structured to do Schaffner32 [8:56 PM]: how is your school year different this than last? Mel [8:56 PM]: we can always go places and do things like mug small children Mel [8:56 PM]: my classes are so much better Mel [8:57 PM]: its insane how much better they are Schaffner32 [8:57 PM]: better in what way Mel [8:57 PM]: now that im actually in illustration Schaffner32 [8:57 PM]: oh cool Schaffner32 [8:58 PM]: what kind of illustration is your favorite? Schaffner32 [8:58 PM]: I have no idea what I mean by that question but imagine you could answer it. Mel [8:58 PM]: oh i like drawing-some people paint-i like charicatures and want to draw political cartoons Mel [8:59 PM]: that would rock my world Schaffner32 [8:59 PM]: ooh; do you draw Bush at all? (I don't mean vagina) Mel [9:00 PM]: hahaha Mel [9:00 PM]: AHAHA Mel [9:00 PM]: um

Mel [9:00 PM]: sure Mel [9:00 PM]: bush is easy Mel [9:00 PM]: hes got a simple face Mel [9:00 PM]: simple face Mel [9:00 PM]: for simple man Schaffner32 [9:01 PM]: yes Schaffner32 [9:01 PM]: you'll have to show me some of your work; I didn't see much last year Schaffner32 [9:02 PM]: do you know the Dillons? Mel [9:02 PM]: no Schaffner32 [9:03 PM]: oh; they illustrate a lot of children's classics Mel [9:03 PM]: OH Mel [9:03 PM]: oh Schaffner32 [9:03 PM]: very unique; I found a book I didn't know they illustrated that I forgot the name of that I had wanted since 1st grade and found the name while looking through old school papers Schaffner32 [9:04 PM]: The Porcelain Cat is the book Schaffner32 [9:04 PM]: so you know them? Mel [9:05 PM]: nope Mel [9:05 PM]: hehehe Schaffner32 [9:05 PM]: hahaha Schaffner32 [9:05 PM]: ah well Schaffner32 [9:07 PM]: it'll be a sweet, handsome death of yours Mel [9:08 PM]: thank jesus ** VIII. A New Screenname and Era

Schaffner32 [14:48]: my new sn is timdb85 and you should have that Barbara [14:48]: I didn't until now though I should have Schaffner32 [14:48]: it's ok because you have black eyes Barbara [14:48]: I know

*

timdb85: little dormissey

Barbara: hi Barbara: what does that mean timdb85: horry nalinacklance timdb85: mormormor timdb85: call me you? Barbara: I'm gonna go to bed soon

Barbara: me call you tomorrow maybe? timdb85: kkk Barbara: ok timdb85: bibi

*

Barbara: tom! timdb85: aweofiawhf Barbara: hows banana republic? timdb85: good timdb85: of course timdb85: are you dead? Barbara: almost Barbara: it was a rough day Barbara: with very little sleep Barbara: just took a test Barbara: but now I'm done nad happy Barbara: and my fellow mysticism student, her name is Enali Barbara: Enaili Barbara: she is a PhD student actually Barbara: anyway she owns a chocolate shop Barbara: and she gave me a choc eg timdb85: so it's worth it to stay up :-) Barbara: filled iwth chocolates Barbara: like, truffles ands tuff Barbara: lol timdb85: hehe timdb85: I love truffles sort of :-) Barbara: I Know Barbara: I LLOLLLLOVE them

Barbara: give me some for easter? Barbara: ha timdb85: nope. timdb85: :-) Barbara: going to call home Barbara: so ttyl timdb85: I'm saving this conversation btw Barbara: poppy timdb85: kkk Barbara: oh gobby! timdb85: bibi Barbara: do you have some from the past? Barbara: if you do I wnat to see them Barbara: then I'll poop on you timdb85: (note to self--"gobby" means "good")

Barbara: I said this b/c I know you're saving it timdb85: I'll show you LOTS Barbara: bibby timdb85: yeah I have a real lots of them timdb85: bibi

*

Barbara: I have to go study Barbara: exam at 9 am Barbara: spanish linguistcis timdb85: oh ok timdb85: sounds crappy like a balloon ** IX. Matt

Matt: you look sad timdb85 wants to send file C:\Documents and Settings\Timothy Ballan.TIMOTHY-0DUXTZC\My Documents\Pictures and Videos \Sexuality-Related\Pictures of Me\2005_02_20 (About

160)\DSC00479.JPG.

timdb85: thanks

timdb85: I try Matt: like a sexy little orphan timdb85: ooh timdb85: love orphans Matt received C:\Documents and Settings\Timothy Ballan.TIMOTHY-0DUXTZC\My Documents\Pictures and Videos \Sexuality-Related\Pictures of Me\2005_02_20 (About

160)\DSC00479.JPG.

timdb85: it turns me on that someone has experienced loss

timdb85 wants to send file C:\Documents and Settings\Timothy Ballan.TIMOTHY-0DUXTZC\My Documents\Pictures and Videos \Sexuality-Related\Pictures of Me\2005_02_20 (About

160)\DSC00470.JPG.

Matt received C:\Documents and Settings\Timothy Ballan.TIMOTHY-0DUXTZC\My Documents\Pictures and Videos \Sexuality-Related\Pictures of Me\2005_02_20 (About

160)\DSC00470.JPG.

Matt: thats kinda weird in a sexy way Matt: LOL Matt: or not that sexy Matt: but weird timdb85: yes timdb85: and it also untrue timdb85: but I like to pretend it is so I can be special

*

timdb85: my grandmother made a funny noise just now

either her stomach or a big and weird fart Matt: hahahahah ew Matt: r u in bed with her? timdb85: a little bit Matt: sweet timdb85: I wish you would kill me when I turned 60 Matt: hmmm not 60- like 70 timdb85: ok timdb85: I might not remember and be scared when you try to kill

it was

me, though Matt: ok Matt: ill just suprise you Matt: like from behind timdb85: ok, it's a plan Matt: Ok

Matt: well Im off to make some tea and slowly die Matt: night timdb85: haha timdb85: sounds wonderful :-) Matt: I know

*

6:52 PM Matt: do it to me now Tim: mama scared ta check email in a min Matt: ok 6:55 PM Matt: I'm losing my mind 7:00 PM Tim: porquois? pourquois? Matt: not actually Tim: I don't know French but I had a dream I did what not? Matt: thought for a econd I was Tim: an econd like a second only longer Matt: like 2 seconds? or inbet 1 and 2? Tim: 7 and 43 inbet I guess is a word--I'm also dead inside

Matt: oh no Tim: all the way dead

why you think you lost mind for about 23 seconds? Matt: si

*

timdb85: how's (the) movie? Matt: hot Matt: hot guy is in it timdb85: hoo? Matt: jerking off Matt: no idea his name Matt: eddie timdb85: you make me want to drown in your cum in the largest vat impossible to swim out of where even if I'm dropped off at the bottom and have hours of oxygen in a tank it would still run out as I try to rise out of it and however much I hate it I'll love the idea as I die slowly Matt: hahahaahahahahaha timdb85: it's all true Matt: im sick to my damn tummmmmmmy timdb85: really? Matt: little timdb85: I want your tummy in a muffin timdb85: real bad Matt: I want to runaway real bad Matt: im bored with my life timdb85: where would you run to? Matt: Texas Matt: for the love of a cock tease timdb85: awww Matt: lol timdb85: (I quote lyrics of a song) Matt: ur a good singer timdb85: oh thanks timdb85: I'm listening to it

timdb85: heard it first in a supermarket when I went to buy pens or something Matt: naughty timdb85: gramma's dead timdb85: ate 'er timdb85: she used to live with me but then I ate 'er Matt: fuck me timdb85: no fuck a bumblee timdb85: don't know how to spell I guess Matt: guesssssssssssssssssssss timdb85: I think I want Barry in my liver Matt: trauma timdb85: and you can live in my spleen Matt: doree timdb85: hate him timdb85: he lives in my throat Matt: fucked it timdb85: can't cuz I ain't got one timdb85: I lied about doree timdb85: bumbumbumbumbum timdb85: yeah yeah timdb85: yeah yeah Matt: brb timdb85: ding ding ding timdb85: blop blop blop

*

timdb85: grampa ate a clambor timdb85: and a sambo :-( ** X. Anticlimax

Barbara: I sent a friend to your website Barbara: and told him to listen to stampede first Barbara: lol timdb85: did he like?

Barbara: he said 'intense' timdb85: answer my previous questions too timdb85: he said nothing else?

Barbara: I mean lin gering and lyrical go together for me sometimes Barbara: I am working on previous questions timdb85: ahh timdb85: I see Barbara: but they COUDL be diff Barbara: but in this case for me they go together timdb85: thanks for elaborating Barbara: yeas timdb85: and did your friend-thing say anything else?

*

Barbara: I could do reserach for you on music of ecuador Barbara: :-) timdb85: yeah, but I have a canker sore Barbara: ew Barbara: hate timdb85: you stopped talking for some reason

*

Mel: there you are Mel: i was afraid to call timdb85: gramma! timdb85: hahahah timdb85: I had an experience with another egg-man Mel: i was confused by the email Mel: eggggggggggggman? timdb85: remember the other egg man whose house I went to in rochester? He looked like an egg. Well, it turns out that I found

someone else who didn't look like an egg in their pics but did in real life! :-) Mel: hahaha

*

Mel: and how are you doing my dear sweet weebaby timdb85: hehe

timdb85: I pooped on a dead squirrel and it made me angry!!

*

Mel (8:21:41 PM): boo boo ski watten timdb85 (8:22:22 PM): gramber timdb85 (8:22:28 PM): whatcha call me??!

Mel (8:22:50 PM): i called you a rootin tootin halla ninny (granny voice) timdb85 (8:24:43 PM): haheheheh timdb85 (8:24:47 PM): you're a pumpkin-girl Mel (8:25:44 PM): yaaaaaaaaay Mel (8:25:52 PM): i really need to pee. timdb85 (8:26:13 PM): why?!

*

Mel: mamaaaaaaaa Mel: suuuuuuuuup timdb85: I'm dead; you?

timdb85: I got a new cell phone though Mel: im semi dead timdb85: good timdb85: how is school missy? Mel: aight Mel: you?

timdb85: ok

Mel: ohhhhhh Mel: gogo timdb85: you can call me if you want or not later timdb85: or maybe tomorrow timdb85: would be better Mel: ok Mel: tommmm Mel: after 9 timdb85: you call me? Mel: yesm timdb85: betsa boosa! timdb85: =bet your kaboose!

have some catching up to do

Mel: hahahaha timdb85: I just made that up

timdb85: what are you doing tonight? Have you seen Garden State? you should timdb85: go see it tonight Mel: i saw it Mel: i love it timdb85: good Mel: i also love wicker park

timdb85: hmm

Mel: you should maybe see it timdb85: I guess.

Mel: do you think whats his ass is cute Mel: hes in it

timdb85: I know his ass

Mel: josh hartnet timdb85: yes Mel: i dont normally like him Mel: but his character is so cute timdb85: awww; I love seeing cute things bleed Mel: HAHAHA timdb85: it's something Kaira would think I think timdb85: she loves when people bleed Mel: i love that girl and i dont even know her Mel: if someone needed killing Mel: id get her timdb85: me too timdb85: I let a creep take naked pictures of me timdb85: don't know why timdb85: was being "too nice" Mel: uhoh timdb85: he said they'll be in a photo show and will be black and white but he'll probably masturbate to them timdb85: I wasn't thinking Mel: uhoh

should I see it?

I don't particularly like him

Mel: i dont want anyone molesting you timdb85: I won't let him timdb85: he's hit on me before but I've stood my ground

timdb85: but Jesus molests me; I can't help it because he's invisible Mel: HAHAHAHA timdb85: and I LOVE IT timdb85: but not really timdb85: have you molested anyone up there yet? Mel: um Mel: just a few random people

timdb85: Uggh

Mel: I don’t know

*

you smell like shit

Diana

WHY AREN'T YOU DEAD YET??

thanks

you smell like ploob

mixture between poop and boob

Diana

pretty much

i met a woman who pooped out of her boobs, and also bled out of

them at the same time and little baby chickens made of mucus came out too

i bet she was in a lot of pain

Diana

no, she masturbated while doing it, as well as puked but puking is nice for her and she gave birth to doves out of her ass

haha you know what would be super awkward?

Diana

if as someone's Facebook status update, s/he put something like "I masturbated today"

Diana

hahahah

i wonder what types of reactions that would get

Diana

all her friends would defriend her and she'd be assassinated!

like it's def not pc for Facebook

Diana

but really masturbating is not something that should be kept a secret

Diana

I want to go to VT for the night

I slept all day--it's not as usual recently for me to that, but I did. I felt depressed so I didn't want to get up

I know--we're a strangely puritan country sometimes

are you still depressed?

Diana

what

Diana

whats wrong?

Diana

I don't know if I am really

but if I am it's just chemicals, but also it might be influenced from joblessness, lovelessness, and nearby-friend-lessnesss

waaaaaaaaah

aww im your friend

im not exactly nearby, but you can pretend i

am

Diana

yeye

*hehe

yes, I know; that's why I said "nearby"

actually dave will be moving back to mass soon

Diana

but relatively speaking in terms of the galaxy you are nearby

I hate Dave

jk

] [

ive been talking to him more lately, he sounds really good

Diana

i like your skin, and your clever look.

i mean he just sounds diffeerent than he used to

Diana

that's what someone just emailed me

different?

like asian now?

[

]

hi

you can call me jj

you always say hi when you're nervous

Diana

sorry,

I forgot we'd been talking for a few minutes

what are you nervous about? Diana

no, I just was thinking that'd be funny to say I'm going to record this conversation and use parts of it in a play/ story

you will need my permission for that Diana

permission? I'm very average looking

yes

conversation

Diana

i

have

oh no.

copyright

over

all

of

what

i

have

said

in

this

so you will have to pay me $500/ word Diana

np

*

Did you get my emails? Diana 10:11 PM

yessum sowwy on phone will look at file soon! sowwwwwwy

its okay Diana i just wanted to make sure that's the email address you use Diana look at it when you have time Diana who u talkin to on the fone???? Diana

barbbbbbara

oh Diana tell her i say hi Diana

Diana hi barbara say hi back

is this an experiment? Diana is her voice going to come from out of nowhere? Diana

nono

how are you feeling? Diana are you feeling better than when i talked to you the last time? Diana 10:25 PM

yes sorry I'm done w phone now

yes I feel better--I started a new medicine a week or so ago

you're sooooo popular!

Diana

no i'm not

I posted the article on facebooky (a link to it) but I still edit it every few days basically

oh wow

did you post it on the internet?

Diana

yes

google documents! it allows you to edit it and create a webpage for it (and it updates whenever you edit it)

awesome

Diana

i didnt know that existed

Diana

google documents i mean

Diana

I exist and so do my bowels

I got prescriptions for my constipation

you had less questions/comments toward the end of the article; my dad also said the latter half reads easier

yes it does

Diana

that's funny that you noticed that

Diana

although hopefully the newest vesion is easier to understand toward

the beginning

oh what prescription did they give you?

Diana

I just wanted to start the paper off in a just-so way

I don't remember some syrup

lactolose?

sonja?

im here

Diana

sorry

Diana

that's the name of it?

Diana

Lactolose?

Diana

I shouldn't talk since I twas on the phone being ignoring-ish yes something like that

you must have been having pretty bad constipation

Diana

i feel like doctors are reluctant to give out medicine for bowl

functions

Diana

I've had it since I visited you in NYC coincidentally

oh noOoooo!

Diana

that's really sad

Diana

she was a nurse practitioner--there's a difference!

im sorry

Diana

yes I guess so

it's ok

that's true

Diana

sometimes nurse practitioners are better than doctors more caring

Diana

that's what my dad though

t

and he's a dr she was nice

like they're

haha

Diana

well thats good

Diana

does the medicine have any side effects?

Diana

I dunno hope not hope it just helps me poop it's as needed

im

tomorrow night

Diana

ummm

so

going

to

my

flute

instructor's

benefit

concert

im nervous

Diana

thank you for sending the pdf by the way I'm keeping it for ever in a folder with my article suck him off

hahaha

Diana

that would be inappropriate

Diana

spose so

im going alone

Diana

that's what I do whenever I get nervous though

i guess thats why im so nervious

Diana

I suck someone off to try to impress them

then I ususally get arrested I'd go with you if I lived next door to you how was boston, btw?

okay

Diana

i wasnt there for very long

Diana

i ended up leaving at 2, which worked out because i could do laundry and stuff when i got back to NY

Diana

nice neeeayyss! was the laundry bloody? with goat's blood

nope Diana but it smelled Diana

awesome you should sell it on ebay labeled "unwashed and disgusting" you'll get loads of creepers begging to give you all their money then shoot them

oh wow

Diana Craig's List killer? Diana

did you hear about the BU medical student?

yeah, he's my friend he's not a killer he's a good christian woman and he likes apricots in his macaroni but he ate my mind and my tortillini

ooooo Diana i can tell you're still not over that Diana 11:01 PM

omg

Diana

so i really think im falling for mali Diana its really weird Diana like he's not really that attractive Diana and i suck at the flute because i never practice Diana so i cant see him seeing anything in me Diana

hmm sorry I was in the bathroom

you always poop while you're takling to me Diana

take it as a compliment! I just peed and brushed me teeth and washed me face no poop

oh Diana so what's barbara up to? Diana

killin people

she's moving in the fall for grad school

mallory

is good too--my parents' cat

she's PISSED that you didn't ask about her just now

Foreign Images

In a lowly-lit room with large square black and white porcelain tiles, a man is playing a piano of the same carving and wood as the elaborately etched dark wood ceiling and walls. We see this from different angles that only take from one to another after periods of at least ten seconds. Coming to a close focus on the pianist's eyes, though, we see them slowly turn red and, once completely red, slowly melt. He doesn't seem to care, though.

Our perspective now zooms into his completely dark eye sockets, and until there is no light seen, and while the sound of his playing is fading. As the music fades out over about ten seconds, though, another type of music gradually appears: the introduction to a song that grows in volume as the characters who will apparently sing it slowly materialize from the darkness behind them. They are rumpled blob-shaped fluorescently animated characters who look very serious, neither their mannerisms nor mouths aligning with the attitude or rhythm and words of the music:

"We are the dancing fruities, We are the dancing fruities, We are the dancing fruities and we love to say your name. The dancing fruities, We are the dancing fruities, The dancing fruities and we love to say your name."

They come to closely face us one at a time and loudly scream,

it Bob Joe Lotz Bob? Mary!

LOVE!!!!

Croatia Tellekeneketiny?!

"What's your name?!

What's your name?!

love!!

Is

Telleslementerarinifee?

love!

love

"

Love!!!

They slowly re-fade into soundlessness and darkness while transforming into falling droplets of water. But, still reflecting a

tiny amount of light, we can just barely see that they meet and combine to form a very large translucent black slug that soon lands on the top of a closed baby grand piano, sliding onto then off the keys, then falling again for about ten seconds. The slug ultimately reaches some surface that is as shining, translucent, and black as itself, but the slug is soon absorbed into the substance, as the area around is darkened as if by a thick ink, this ink spreading out to become a large ocean.

We are slowly submerged beneath this ocean, but only a few feet beneath the crests of leisurely turning low waves. Our perspective

stays fixed at this level and on the water around us until, after about

a minute, a dull orange and yellow fish coated with spiraling wiry

tentacles approaches and swallows us. We feel and hear it jump out of the water but, even after several seconds, remain in the air,

apparently flying. Little by little, we can see through its body until

it disappears. We see the night sky around us, clouds, stars, and also

a naked fat and rumply elderly woman somewhat reminiscent of a Shar Pei dog, sitting uncomfortably on a cloud, smiling shyly.

We come over and sit next to her, but she looks bashful and only offers us infrequent sideways glances without moving her head. Even as burning meteorites start falling all around, she looks neither scared nor concerned, even when a small one hits her, creating a large gash along the top of her head. The gash only grows, though, as a flame ignites out of it, beginning to consume the woman who continues to smile but shyly. The cloud supporting her and us begins moving as if a vehicle and, after it descends for nearly half a minute, it leads us into a cave within the rocky ledge of a hill.

After the cloud and continuously burning woman leave us, there is nothing to light this dank cave but the open sky around several corners. We only hear and faintly see drips and splashes for minutes until the blackness lightens to morph between blueish-seafoam green and other colors that sparkle iridescently with pinks, dark

After about twenty seconds, these

lights fade to darkness once again, but now complete darkness and also silence.

blues, and bright yellow-greens.

Through the eyes of a young child waking from a dream, we emerge to see him immersed in urine slowly but continuously spilling from his bed onto the floor around it. Creeping under his door, we see that the urine has spilled out into a hall and down a set of stairs to flood the entire bottom floor in about an inch of liquid. His parents are sitting on a couch in darkness, the mother crying, repeating, "What are we going to do?", the father comforting her. As we pass through their house's open front door onto its porch, we can see that it is only not yet quite dawn. Yet, we still notice at the edge of the porch above its three steps two mice looking intently up toward us, one quite larger than an average mouse and one quite small.

The little one, apparently bravely, shakingly, but deliberately, begins to sing a very sweepingly lyrical but nonsensical song.

"Chicken heads and lollipops and days of all the weigh, Sing a song or kill your mom and then we'll all be gay, nana nana nana nana nana nana nana nana nana, nana nana nana nana nana nana nah, nana nana nana nana nana nana nana nana nana, nana nana nana nana nana nana nah."

The larger one watches him start and, as they eye each other, begins to sing as well, though similarly nervous. They seem to be effectively encouraging one another through fixed glances, but they continue to shake and look uneasy even as they finish, though they are now smiling.

As they retain lovingly fixed glances between one another, we fly over their heads, over nearby trees, and over a nearby field of wheat. Flying onward and continuing to ascend, we soon notice a large and

sudden cliff that drops off into extensive rocky terrain. We begin to descend, however, upon spotting a rockless field in the distance, where we land, at the nearby edge of a murky bog.

Next to a large pile of various mostly notably curly twigs, a softly smiling shriveled and small elderly woman––dressed in witch-like black with strikingly black but warm eyes––is instructing two burly developmentally-disabled men in building her a house of these curly twigs. After only several seconds, time somehow lapses so that we see the men finish building the house and then leave. We now follow the witch-like old woman as she enters her new hut to sit on a stool made of twigs and slowly but deliberately eat her hands. She bleeds little, though, and smiles all the while. Once the woman finishes eating her hands, she begins to hum peacefully and, using her now-stump arms, open one of her new cabinets. She removes a pumpkin from this cabinet, carries it through her still-open front door, and sets it in her new mailbox. Once the woman returns inside and closes her brittle door, though, the pumpkin falls out of the back of the mailbox.

We focus on this pumpkin as time fast-forwards until it rots away. We are then forced through the dirt beneath it for several seconds until we come to the opening of an underground cavern as extensive and spacious as several linked enormous warehouses. We are directed through the cavern, through a city sewer, up onto a telephone wire above in the remnants of this long-abandoned city, and into an apartment window of a pumpkin-shaped man facing us but with a torso and legs that are backwards from his head and arms. Wielding a newly minted machete, he excitedly yodels and skips, running down the decrepit cement steps of his building out into the ruins of the city itself, knocking heads off of only townsfolk who look condescendingly toward him. When done, we watch him catch his breath, calm down, and then look very sad, looking downward, seeming to fall limp.

After several seconds of stillness, he falls completely over, impaled with an arrow shot from a golf cart decorated with red and blue balloons and streamers. It is being driven by wide-eyed small deformed-looking people dressed and acting like deranged stereotypical Native Americans. Their costumes and held toys seem to imply that they have just come from a six-year-old's wild birthday party.

We rise above the ground to see a whole line of these vehicles with these people in them, as far in the distance as can be seen. As we look further in the distance, we also notice that the landscape looks like a keyboard, with this first line of golf carts and more lines on either side of it representing "white keys" and areas in between the lines representing "black keys".

The keys begin moving as if being played, the landscape transforming into some extraordinary, inordinately expansive keyboard. Some keys soon shift to differing heights with some also widening and some narrowing. Some collapse and fall into possibly eternal black nothingness below the ground. We follow the path of one collapsed key for a while, but then stop and look back up beneath the ground to see what looks like the inner workings of a cheap upright piano but with wires, clock spirals, automobile gears, and other pieces displaying a mechanism much more complex than that of any piano.

We ascend closer again and see that there are green worms crawling all over the springs, bars, discs, and other parts of this mechanism, eating them. As they eat, this whole "underneath world" begins to shrink as we suppose the "above world" is as well. When all that is left are the worms, they form a huge ball that grows larger and smoother until it appears to be just growing glass that glows on and off with various neon tones. We follow the growing and glowing ball as it travels for some time, but we eventually let it drift away.

We begin to fall and fall and fall until we break through and become trapped in the skin of a large timpani in some completely darkened dusty school closet. We hear oddly deranged brooding string music all around but can see nothing, until we notice that all the instruments in this vast closet are being hurled into each other and all around us. Soon we appear to be crushed to the point of death.

Unlikely Encounters

Early Morning

An innocent-looking deer approaches a gate where a cutely quivering squirrel is sitting. As the deer inches closer and closer,

the squirrel quivers with increasing intensity, appearing frozen with shock. It soon becomes more and more apparent that the deer intends to eat the squirrel.

*

Waking up to their loud beeping alarm, one says, "It sounds just like

a harp––and beautiful endless fields of daisies stretching across all I know or could ever hope to know "

*

Just warming up their morning shower as their mother breaks in through door with an axe:

"What are you doing!?"

"I thought you were dead! You've been in there for hours, I couldn't find the key to the door, and I didn't want to waste time waiting for a locksmith."

"Umm

I've been in here for maybe two min––"

"––Ohh

Sorry."

The mother leaves leisurely as the son stares in shock.

*

To her father: "I want a baby named Sue––I don't care if it's a boy and I'll just keep it here in my apartment––it can sleep on the couch."

Her father replies with a delay:

"Oh dear.

I think I've forgotten

something

"

"Dad, you have Alzheimer's! How cliche is that?!"

*

You call up a friend who, when they say "hello", you respond to sternly, as if irritated, with a forceful and seething "What?!".

At the end of the ensuing actually normal conversation, the friend laughs while sweetly commenting, "I would never kill you". You both laugh warmly as if she said, "I'm glad we're friends".

*

To: continuingeducation@wls.edu Subject: Withdrawal

Hi.

I e-mailed the following to the wrong address a couple days

ago:

I would like to be withdrawn from PH 100 EL. My name is Timothy Ballan––I do not have a student ID because I am not a matriculatd student yet.

Thank you,

Timothy Ballan

PS––I know I don't know you, but did you happen to see the movie "Lady in the Water" yet?

Breakfast

White mother to white son:

muffin?"

"Aren't you going to finish your

"Shut up you black bastard."

*

Breakfast in a quiet diner, after having sat by one another for only a

short time but without looking at one another or making any sound, one turns to the other and coldly states, "I wish you were dead."

En Route to School

One watches as a fat lady runs down the middle of a road rubbing honey all over her body––under her clothes and on her exposed skin––, screaming "I'm a bee! I'm a bee!"

Elsewhere, someone notices a woman with her baby on the street and asks, "Can I please have your baby?"

After a pause and with a disgusted and quizzical expression, "No!"

"Fine."

Another person, to a random little girl waiting for the bus: "There are things worse than death, you know "

*

In clearly early fall, as I am driving through narrow winding forest roads, I see a duck fly down into a pond to my left.

"A duck? What the hell? I fucking hate ducks!", as I step on the gas

to shoot my car into the pond. As the car is sinking, I step up on the roof, angrily flailing my arms to try to catch the duck as it flies away before I fall off into the water. As I'm reaching the shore, I say "I FUCKING HATE DUCKS!"

*

While driving on a busy street, a warm-looking, smiling female

driver graciously and very unexpectedly lets me go in front of her. I drive very slowly and deliberately in front of her while I roll down my window and give her the middle finger.

*

A woman who doesn't look particularly friendly boards a bus to sit across from me. I say semi-enthusiastically, "Hi Sam!" as she

ignores me except for an initial near-expressionless glance.

A passenger behind me has a box of ants on his lap, many of which crawl out and all over the bus and onto people.

I fail to notice as two giant old-fashioned black bicycles ride by my window, taller than the bus and almost as long, and, riding a few seconds behind them, an equally giant Volkswagen Beetle. Several seconds later, I notice neither a girl riding a tricycle nor a Mack truck that soon honks before unintentionally catching up with her and running her over. Someone nearby catches my attention by saying, "Did you see that?" He details what happened intensely

excitedly, but only mentions the bikes and car. I only shrug as, after

a few seconds, he does as well.

Kindergarten

Holding a snow globe with clearly only four characters inside, a little girl gives names to each of them but also to characters that obviously aren't there.

Catholic School

A visiting priest from Ghana gives a long-winded yet very energetic prayer, prompting me to, after quite a while, throw a hymnal at him. He only says "Ow, why you'd do that man?!" before continuing his prayer as I and others sigh with disappointment.

Before Class

Obviously referring to another girl's anklet, a girl asks "Didn't you wear that as a necklace the other day?" Apparently awoken from a daydream, the girl with the anklet becomes flustered by the question and confusedly asks, "These?!", pointing to her sandals, then, "You mean these?", pointing to her shorts, and then continuing in this

manner referring to aspects of her attire besides her anklet, all while remaining in a seemingly dazed state.

*

"How should I treat this girl who's been so mean to me?"

"Kiss her on her head and pet her side and act as if she is a goddess of comfort to whom you are returning comfort slowly and lovingly––angelically as if to a baby deer sent from heaven."

*

In response to a blind teacher approaching the front of his

classroom, one says, "I'm sick of this blind guy; the joke was old the second day––he can't see, we get it "

*

"Does anyone have any questions before I hand out the test?"

"Yes", quietly but definitely.

"Okay––great! Here's your test."

Class

A professor brags, "Millions of fractions of people have already bought my book!"

"How many people is that?"

" One."

*

An older together- and respectable-looking male teacher in "proper" posture and uniform stands silently writing at the blackboard of a small nineteenth-century-styled classroom with a high ceiling and intricate ornamental carving throughout. All the students look quiet and sleepy. Through a tall old-fashioned window next to the board, we see an overcast morning sky with traveling mist near the ground. The teacher abruptly stops writing though continuing to face the

board, starting to shake. He begins to defecate uncontrollably enough for his excrement to burn a hole through his pants with its intense speed, amount, and heat. As this starts, he stands frozen,

but, after a while, he moves a little to avoid becoming more covered

in his feces. After the flow of his waste stops, he continues writing

and speaking at his new position, clearing nervously––shakingly–– trying to ignore what just happened as is apparent from his voice, posture, and what facial expressions can be seen from his position.

There's a pile of feces as large as at least two elephants' and then a trail away from it to where he now stands. People look shocked but don't laugh or say anything.

*

In

the middle of a class discussion, a girl explodes into dust, but the

few who notice don't seem to care.

A few minutes later, I look toward the closet and ask, "Who's in

there?!" when there was clearly no noise coming from there.

The teacher is then prompted to ask, "Wait, where's Cheryl?"

With slight annoyance in their voice, one student casually responds, "She turned to dust a few minutes ago."

Lunch Break

One buys tissues as snacks at a convenience-type store located in a mall's food court.

*

Waiting until it's her turn to order at a fast food restaurant, a woman slowly takes the bucket meant for tips and vomits into it, while a man has been changing his baby's diaper on the counter for minutes.

*

A

woman dumps hot tea on her own head.

Another points toward

her and laughingly states, "It looks like she peed in her pants!"

Another person adds, "I wish she did. I wish she would."

*

An old man sitting at a Thanksgiving dinner with many of his relatives picks his butt relatively inconspicuously, but his wife points toward him furiously and screams, "CRAP!"

Soon after, a young child burps violently and long enough to splatter blood all over his surrounding family.

*

In a nasally Long-Island-ish accent, a woman comments to another, "Oh Delila! You must have been putting that new gel in your hair!

You're beak is coming in quite well

",

sing-songy toward the end.

The speaker is a hideously bulbous older woman nearly covered in course hairs stemming out of moles and multiple moderate to large apparent tumors all over her body. She has cracked and broken

skin, varicose veins, and greasy white-grey hair that is balding in the middle. As she speaks, Delila––a lady dressed up in a bird suit, apparently a white mallard duck but with a wide cartoon-like beak––looks flattered to the point of speechlessness, only cheekily turning her head downward while looking sideways and batting her long eyelash extensions.

*

A middle-aged somewhat hefty man is sitting backwards on a toilet that is positioned almost parallel with the bathroom door. Someone opens the unlocked door as the man nearly screams, "I'm on the toilet" very pointedly and moderately angrily. The other quietly apologizes while gently closing the door.

The Sickly's Mid-day

Nurses come to move an immobile thousand-plus-pound woman from her bed onto a kind of wheeled platform through a doorway recently widened by several feet.

"I'm as big as a house

realizing she had put on a few pounds over the past few months.

",

in a moping, depressed voice, as if just

The nurses all find it appropriate to attempt to flatteringly dismiss

this and say, "Oh no

You're fine!" and, "Are you kidding?!"

*

A

senile and otherwise demented paraplegic old woman in a nursing

".

A volunteer youth meanly responds, "They're treating you just like

everyone else. You're not special and the animals don't think you are either." The old woman then begins to cry.

home says, "All the animals like me

They keep coming to me

At another rest home, an old lady moves a recliner so that it faces the bottom of some stairs. She proceeds to sit on it and read.

*

In a free clinic's waiting room, someone is lost in concentration while reading a book, but it is upside down. Another patient observes an interaction between some acquaintances that just noticed each other:

"Hi! How've you been?"

"Good."

"How's your son?"

Loudly and dramatically but seriously, "HUGE!"

A woman with gray, frayed, and disheveled hair sits alone on a

bench with a sad expression. She is wearing a cheap-looking purple velvet-like hat and dress, and one of her cheeks is as swollen as a moderately large melon. As the doctor walks up to her, she smiles with a sadness in her eyes as her mouth opens just enough for a thick whitish-yellow fluid to stream all over her dress, the bench, and the floor.

Later, in his office, the doctor nonchalantly comments to another one of his patients, "What's that awful smell?"

"

you?!"

*

At an anger management group, a seemingly sweet, kind, and gentle

I just want to go on

a killing spree by taking glass bottles and smashing them into random people's skulls!"

*

older fat man says, "Sometimes I get so mad

Is that okay with

It's

me!

Okay?!

I smell!

I have a problem!

Sitting down with a therapist for a first time visit:

"So

Tell me a little about yourself

"

"Umm

I'm sorry, but I don't really see that this is getting us "

anywhere––I think I'll go

"Okay––sorry."

Elsewhere, a patient complains to her psychiatrist, saying, "They always put diamonds in my throat, the people in my mind, Charlotte and Karlotte."

Somewhere else, a patient grabs papers off of their social worker's desk to intensely scan them as the worker requests more and more sternly that they be returned, such as by saying, "Tim, those are "

*

confidential

The worker finally grabs them away.

A rich-looking man observes a homeless person's shoes falling apart, commenting, "––Oh, maybe you should get new shoes someday "

"I can't––I'm penniless."

Smiling, walking on, "That's nice."

Elsewhere, an old homeless woman runs through a city park, followed by a flock of pigeons pecking at her hair and all over her. She says, "Get away from me! Please! I don't smell bad––do I?!"

Afternoon

A group of snobby-looking teenage girls ride in a red convertible

past an elderly couple who have their car windows down. The girls

throw bags of wet, rotting lettuce into the couple's car so that the bags hit the couple's faces, as the girls laugh and point and then speed away.

*

A

mom gives instructions to her son as she leaves the house for a

few hours: "Mrs. Jarvis should be coming at two-thirty, so let her in

if

she

But

don't let her in before two-thirty."

*

Two male friends in their early twenties are walking energetically through a city park:

Seeing an old lady, one of them comments, "I wish that lady would jump up and down forever and never stop."

Seeing a big dog, "Oh! It's a baby! I wonder what color its heart

is

If only it would say something."

Seeing a fat dog, "I wish he were a pig."

Then, pointing to an empty space: "This is a girl; I think I can't "

remember what 'a girl' means

They soon pass two women on a bench talking in normal voices, one repeatedly asking "What?" in between the other's breaths.

Then, whenever the other tries to repeat herself, the first woman interrupts her by saying "What?" and continues this as the other patiently restarts over and over.

Nearby, a thin, wide-eyed, skittish-looking man in his thirties beseeches a young child alone on another bench, "Child, what day is it? Is it Friday?"

Innocently, "I think so."

"Actually I think it's Saturday––I think that's today

you know if Dolores is yet living in her temple cast of iron trudglings?!"

Child! Do

"I think so."

*

An older lady attending to her garden on a leafy and flowery winding suburban route is disturbed by the sound and slight breeze of a six-year-old girl slowly passing by on a small training-wheeled bike, a pink helmet on her head and pink pompoms hanging from the white bike's handlebars. As the girl passes, the older lady notices a rotting dove at the edge of the woods across the road. A slight sadness at this quickly becomes intense rage, as the lady throws her shovel and gloves down into the mulch beneath her, stomps away from her weed-ridden and overgrown yard filled with trash and refuse, and begins running after the girl who, by now, is well beyond hearing range of the lady. The lady starts screaming and waving maniacally, "You killed my bird! You killed my bird!" until she happens to trip over a seemingly unused spray paint can in the gutter of the street, next to a sewer opening. Struck with a thought, though still in her slippers and night gown, the lady decides to immediately trek with this spray paint can two miles in a direction perpendicular to the girl's path; she crosses several bridges over nearby highways and highway ramps but only decides to spray paint on the edge of the fourth bridge she comes to. In scratchy,

childlike handwriting, with some upside-down and some backwards letters, she writes, "YOU KILLED MY BIRD". Satisfied with her

handling of the situation, she turns back to return to her gardening.

*

It is starting to rain and I don't have an umbrella, but I see a stiff- looking middle-aged woman with one. I run up and say, "Can I share?", all very awkwardly. She's visibly disturbed but relatively polite. While she remains stiff as we don't talk for minutes, I remain relaxed.

She then asks, "Where are you going?"

"Brewster Hall."

"Well I'm turning here––"

"That's okay. I'll take a longer route if it means I'll be drier!" I smile and laugh warmly, while she fakes a smile and laugh. I follow her to her car––her destination––and give her directions to where I

would be driven, all without asking, but I do say "Thank you" in the end.

*

In a place where snow thickly coats the ground, on the outskirts of shoveled paths through a campus quadrangle, we barely notice benches surrounded by two feet of snow and with much snow on them. We also barely notice seated upon one of them an old woman nearly covered in snow that collapsed on her when she sat, reading while holding a cup of hot coffee.

*

An old lady looks at a young man on his cell phone and grabs it away, saying, "That's mine!" before biting it, throwing it, and stomping on it.

Early Evening

Behind a hotel, at a point where a muddy swamp meets a well- manicured lawn, a family finds this place fit to lay down beach

towels, build muddy sand castles, and play in the water, even while

it

is starting to thunder and rain.

*

At an intersection of trails in the woods, just off one of the trails, a huge manatee-ish grey bunny, furless, wrinkly, slimy-ish, and clammy-looking, tall as the trees and very wide, bends but doesn't break trees as it moves like a slug through them. A little girl says , "Look Mommy––a doggy!" Ignoring her daughter, preoccupied with packing up lunch materials from the picnic they just had, bending over and with her back toward the bunny, she neither notices it nor its quiet, wind-like sounds of movement, even though

it

is very near her. She is soon slid over, crushed by the bunny that

is

blinded by wrinkles over its eyes. She screams and flails, but it is

too late.

*

A

schizophrenic pre-pubescent boy dials a car dealership, though he

is self-conscious about his high voice enough to apparently generally fear phone calls. With a heavily frightened but also pitifully sad sound in his voice, he starts, "There's a goat here and she keeps unplugging the charger to my cell phone."

Taken aback but carefully and hesitantly, the car salesman on the other end responds, "Sorry ma'am, we can't help you with that

Sounding incredibly, achingly depressed, the voice shakingly

and then hangs up. Without seeing the caller,

you'd assume the voice belonged to a feeble old woman.

*

Responding to an e-mail filled with small-talk from my assigned "peer advisor" at college:

responds, "

Okay",

"I'm Tim, your peer advisee. Do you only get one? If so, it might upset you to know that I'm a bird. I hope you don't mind.

Love,

Thomas"

*

As I meet people on my dorm floor, I start a conversation with one

Isn't it amazing that

every single one of our lives has now intersected?!"

*

Someone directs me to "Smell this lotion", so I put some on my hand and smell it. Looking enamored with it, then energized to

receive more of a high from it, I grab the bottle and vigorously pump much more on my hands and stuff as much as I can up my nostrils.

*

"You're such a cutie-pie!"

by exclaiming in a very serious tone, "Wow

"I'm not a pie––I'm a human being!"

En Route to the Mall

One calls 411 and asks, "What year is it?"

*

"I'm going to the store now."

"So am I."

"You are?"

"Oh, wait—no; I thought I was you for a second."

*

As you pass through a fast food drive-through, you and your friend notice a young female worker go into a storage shed belonging to

the restaurant. "Open the door; let's lock her in there, okay? Come on, let's go."

*

Someone notices a feather, saying, "Oh look!" before grabbing it

and eating it. They defensively exclaim, "What?!" in response to a weird look from their friend.

*

While smiling, with wide eyes and a crazed facial expression, you should go up to a stranger on the street and, looking fixedly off

aside from their face, in a heavy British accent, ask "Have you met Charles?"

*

I call to say I'm not coming to a small get-together because I'm busy, but I come anyway.

"I thought you said you weren't coming

"

"What? Why would you think that?!"