The link was discovered. Both Iraq and Al-Queda have the letter Q

Gavool has parents that are cute. This is what they send. I think it also said something in that I was handed the e-mail addy’s of the entire family with it. Guess it’s official now. Heh.

Subject: Beware of Al-gebra

At New York’s Kennedy airport today, an individual later discovered to be a public school teacher was arrested trying to board a flight while in possession of a ruler, a protractor, a setsquare, a slide rule, and a calculator. At a morning press conference, Attorney general John Ashcroft said he believes the man is a member of the notorious Al-gebra movement.
He is being charged by the FBI with carrying weapons of math instruction.

“Al-gebra is a fearsome cult,” Ashcroft said. “They desire average solutions by means and extremes, and sometimes go off on tangents in a search of absolute value. They use secret code names like “x” and “y” and refer to themselves as “unknowns”, but we have determined they belong to a common denominator of the axis of medieval with coordinates in every country. “As the Greek philanderer Isosceles used to say, there are 3 sides to every triangle,” Ashcroft declared.

When asked to comment on the arrest, President Bush said, “If God had wanted us to have better weapons of math instruction, He would have given us more fingers and toes”.

“I am gratified that our government has given us a sine that it is intent on protracting us from these math-dogs who are willing to disintegrate us with calculus disregard. Murky statisticians love to inflict plane on every sphere of influence,” the President said, adding: “Under the circumferences, we must differentiate their root, make our point, and draw the line.”

President Bush warned, “These weapons of math instruction have the potential to decimal everything in their math on a scalene never before seen unless we become exponents of a Higher Power and begin to factor-in random facts of vertex.”

Attorney General Ashcroft said, “As our Great Leader would say, read my ellipse. Here is one principle he is uncertainty of: though they continue to multiply, their days are numbered as the hypotenuse tightens around them.”

shines through like make-up

After spending a lovely day wtih Jenn, I ran into Bill on my way to the Poetry VS musicians thing at Cafe Du Soliex. I was walking with Robin and he was at J.J. Bean talking with someone I vaguely recognize as a local sound tech. I smiled to see him but he wouldn’t let me touch him. Ah well. C’est La Vie. I’m not angry and there’s not a lot of hurt left to tweak, so whatever. Jenn’s responce to hearing about the phonecall was “You are the ONLY woman alive who wouldn’t be angry at this, but glad to hear from him.” I wish dearly that we were alone when we met though, I might have just been cruel for the laughter I could get out of it. I don’t think I’m the ONLY person, but I do think I may be the only one to think for a flash second of using our past sexual experiences as a serves-you-right weapon.

Walking back home after I tried to return Jacques’ things and get my own back, but there was only a note on the door saying that if I liked, I was welcome to wait inside. Instead, I flipped the note over, wrote a reply and kept walking. He found me not two blocks from Venebles. I fell asleep during the movie. Fairly certain I made it at least halfway. I returned this morning to another letter.

danny letter six

hate calls knocking in the dark

Oh the crumbs of past relationships can be bitter. Bill called this morning. Well, last night. It seems something I sent him led him into reading my journal again. Not in depth or anything, just enough to get general impressions, I think. He didn’t know details or how I helped Jen Bishop move, for example. I wish there was someone I could talk to about this with. Someone that knows the both of us. Seems to be a familiar want though, what with my father on the scene.

 After my long day of hyper-reality sleep-dep I finally crawled into bed at two only to be woken by ringing at four. In my exhaustion I thought it was my alarm and couldn’t understand why it wasn’t turning off. It’s only fair and fitting that I was confused even before I picked up because it didn’t go away for almost the entire conversation. Two hours of swearing and hanging up on me only to call back seconds later. Poor thing. It must be hard to be so angry. Keeping such a thing harshly smoldering at all times must take so much energy. Blearily saying hallo led me to the “so you have someone new” conversation. Well, okay, rant. I began by hesitatingly said “yeeaass?” to get an instant “fuck you, you fucking bitch cunt” *click*.

Everything just sort of continued off that, but for more obscure reasons than I can apparently grasp. It seems that my being involved with Gavool means that I don’t care for Bill. I, of course, do not see the connection, but I suppose that’s okay. I see that there’s no explanation forthcoming and I know that anything I say is going to filter through many layers that all seem to have nothing at all to do with me. The fact that I don’t see my current with Gavool as a new thing is also apparently hearsay. How dare I still Love the people I used to. Our three year relationship is now empty and dust because I continued to care for people I loved while I was with him. Very strange. Nothing I can wrap my mind about at all. Over the course of our ‘discussion’ I discovered for the first time that he’s never left anyone on good terms ever. I think that may be part of it. Never experiencing positive goodbyes could make the concept something alien. Also, asking if that’s a viable theory equals cruelly cutting him down.  I know was too tired to attempt diplomacy, but I know as well that I didn’t say any hurtfully intended thing. Not one mean word voiced in my mind or past my lips. I think he hung up four times anyways.

Funny thing is that if I were even a slightly crueller person than I am, I wouldn’t have been actually home last night. I would have made the phonecall explaining that I am full aware of the implications of staying over two nights in a week and how they don’t count because I say so. I can imagine him simmering upset only to eventually wake my roomate with the ringing. “No – sorry – she’s not here” at three in the morning. *chuckles* Would serve him right for asking some of the questions that were hatefully thrown at me. However much I’m sure he doesn’t want to think about it, he still asked personal sex questions. I may just decide at some point he’s a masochist. I could so easily see him picturing me lying with someone else and feeling betrayed. Wanting to burst in, death in hand. In fact, now that I think about it, I would lay money down that he did that before calling me. He even pulled out the orgasm thing. “You got it with him – didn’t you?” Wow – fragility. I suspect that if I were to attempt to be hateful back, he would feel justified and therefore be a bit happier. Almost I wish could find some for him. It wouldn’t be honest, but if he could lose even a little bit of the blackness, he would be so much better. I love him, I don’t like to hear him so ruined. The only victim I’ll have the time for.

I’m glad he called, though the utter teenager angst of a lot of it was a bit much. At least I know now he’s not deleting my e-mails off-hand. Reminded me of Domni’s ex who torched all her belongings and as luck would have it, he direct quoted a note that I got earlier this week. That made me chuckle. My humour hates me. Those two would have gotten along if they’d ever let themselves. They could have sat in a coffeeshop and bitched about me. Ah sigh, he can’t punish me anymore, I’m mine again. Why is he trying this? I didn’t understand and still I don’t understand, and nor will I ever be properly told. If it’s so distateful for him, why not change things? Why not change them when I was still with him if they were so awful? Oh sorry – I was told when I ask these questions I’m putting him down again. *sighs* When he calls again, I’ll have to be more awake so I can find other ways to word them. Certainly I was told this was my last phonecall, but I think I was told the last one was too. None of these have really stood out as anything new though apparently his heart is “actually broken” now. Which, if I were feeling like it, would lead to the question, ‘then what was it before?’. I don’t though. I don’t feel like any of this. That’s likely part of the why-I-don’t-care he’s upset about. No anger? Why then, I obviously have no feelings on the matter. Or something. Wish he’d tell me. When we were together, I was continually telling him to write things down, because he’d become too defensive to ever actually say anything to me. Glad I got the phonecall, now I hope I finally get a letter.

Alrighty – I am way too fascinated.  There’s a new alternate reality deconstructionist puzzle game. Like House of Leaves, but on-line, for those who don’t play them. (See here).I am wholly in love and getting sucked headfirst into  There’s a ‘so far the run through’ page here at I may not emerge from my room the next few days. I will be too absorbed. This is slick work. It’s pretty how well this is being done. Has this ever been done on-line before? Is this a legitimately new thing as pure marketing??? I am strongly suspecting that Mark Danielewski might be an inspiration to the writer of thier mysterious text, perhaps even the artist behind the thing. The syntax, the writers fingerprint strikes similar.

It’s an interesting site to use as the jump off base. Margaret runs her own honey business in Napa Valley, California. Dana, her niece, has been building and running the website. Dana has been trying to fix the problem, as mentioned in her blog (, but everything so far has only been attacked with code and hidden text as well. The text creates full fairy-tale stories and letters with Shakespeare references and pieces of Classic novels interspersed with lines from the U.S Army Handbook creating the narrative of someone shipwrecked on an empty sand beach. The blog, by the way is entirely fictional. Utterly. All of it is except the other players. Well, SOME of the other players. It’s a beautiful thing the mystery people have going. These, of course, are pretty much assumptions. Gads it’s pretty. Entirely false maybe real universes. My favorite.

As the discovery of this “hacking” is tied to the Halo ii trailer release of a few days ago this is quite easily a marketing ploy, in the later frames, the was replaced with, but I do not care. This is too nice. Too perfect. I haven’t played one of these in an age.There is a countdown what leads to the end of Augus. I have a feeling that they will be unable to end it satisfactorally, but Microsoft is finally doing something worthwhile. They’re finally making Art with thier money.

This is enthralling.


So it looks like the rabbithole has far better production than the actual game. Pity.

I can’t vouch for the sexual favours

Just got this letter. Come out and support our local artists!!

CR Avery is in trouble… not sure if you know about the play he’s doing right now “gonna change my tune”… anyways the theatre is going to shut him down unless he can pack the place… the last few nights have been dead… what with luminares and such… they actually tried locking him out of the theatre… so we’re just trying to put bums in seats at this point… it’s a great show so if you could put word out on the radar we’d appreciate it… the show is at the railtown theatre 138 e cordova… doors at 8:30 $10 if you can afford $10… $5 and sexual favours if you can’t.

Choce bit from work:

i just got over this girl but i couldn’t get to sleep cuz i thought about her and had a dream about her but i am over her!!

PS i need a gf

and in the other corner:

I have a problem . I just got over likeing this guy and i had a dream about him laast night and i don’t now what to do because i’m oveer him,but after in my dream he said he likes me but i don’t now? P.S. I NEED A BF
sWEET AND sOUR power

I love this job.

some illuminaires pictures, well the before dark or faerie dust sort at least, to be found at Mostly Ethan on a tall bike.

I didn’t know I could look like that

I’m tired, covered with glitter, smell faintly of hotub, have no hickies, have been to a festival, two parties and and helped someone move, all while successfully avoiding the menfolk, and have arrived home at ten:thirty the next day in someone else’s clothing. *cackles* I think Illuminaires was a success this year. Just a bit.
take you away to the story, my dear