vr

a novel

Scott Alexander Gabriel Reiss

February 1996

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

From: SAGReiss
Date: 22 February 1996
Subject: 12000 Virgins

Move out the way, motherfuckers. It's big bad Gabe and I'm riding a brand-new, 150 mega herz, thoroughbred stallion called Bucephalus. Just looking at this monsterpiece of modern technology gives you a chronic and probably fatal case of pentium envy. While I've baptized the box, the mouse says "Venus" so it's kind of like the hermaphrodites of which Aristophanes spake in Plato's Banquet, as if any of you undergraduate scum had ever read that. It's got a 17" monitor bigger than the Ritz, a laser printer and speakers which scream and hiss at me whenever I screw up. I'm just on the fascist Microsoft Network as an experiment. My real e-mail address should be the last one, but that's such a fucked-up company that I don't know yet. We'll see. I know what you're asking yourself, Jeff: "How did a low-rent, white-trash scumbag like yourself find the three thousand dollars necessary to buy all this dangerous machinery?" Obviously my mother bought it. Now I can hear you others whom I don't know (I know only the first four, charter members of this not quite in real time MOO.): "Why the fuck has a thirty-two-year-old man with several fake diplomas and a semi-respectable but fairly lucrative job (waiting tables if you must know) need his mother to buy him a 'puter?" Wait, first where did we get this thing? From the non-English-speaking Oriental mafia working for the Stalinist Chinese. They have a simple but elegant sales pitch: "We steal the parts in Japan, have them assembled by political prisoners in psych wards on the mainland, smuggle them stateside in the hull [Yes I still remember that word, Jeff. I read Moby's Dick when you were still wearing diapers.] of ships carrying boat people and sell them to you tax free and dirt cheap." Where did I indeed get three thousand dollars? I can see you all thinking that I didn't have them because I seem to feel the need to spend fifty dollars a day on booze and cigarettes, but you fools are jumping to conclusions. Not at all, though that's certainly true. You see the real reason is far deeper and far darker and much uglier. You remember, Jeff, I told you my old man fled his creditors when he inherited a stash from some forgotten old great aunt... I've wondered for a long time why my mother was so good to me, bailing me out every time I'd spent my last fifty bucks on whisky and Camels and why she wanted to buy me a 'puter (aside from her addiction to e-mail almost equal to mine). She recently admitted that some years ago my sister and I also inherited twelve thousand dollars. My sister got hers. My family decided that I was incapable of dealing with my money and they kept it from me. My father later conned my mother out of it and spent it on whores, licquor, sex, air travel, cars, computers, housing for him and his new sleazy wife (at least that's what my mother thinks, I couldn't care less). Guilt, as you can see, can be an inspiration for very positive behavior. So, in my first official act as figurehead leader of this weird army of misfits and Amazons, I propose the following: a double or triple or quadruple blind date including Corinne and Jeff, Amye and myself, Sweet Lou and his girlfriend whose name I can never recall and Calamity Kate and her boyfriend or girlfriend whatever she's into lately. We can meet at Lou's (Place not Sweet Lou's) at Walnut and East Fayette at seven in the evening for drinks (Please bring your real or fake ID. Mister Betsy carded Katy.) on Tuesday the twenty-seventh. If enough of you RSVP through e-mail or snail mail (My address, for those of you who don't know, is Scott Alexander Gabriel Reiss, Apartment 7, 1009 Madison Street, Syracuse, NY 13210.) I'll reserve a table at the Lemon Grove, the Tai place at Armory Square. Shit, I haven't seen you, Corinne and Jeff, since my birthday and I've got a lot of those fucking Camel Cash coupons saved up. To those of you who don't know me, Welcome to the world according to Gabe...

From: Caroline
Date: 23 February 1996
Subject: Re: 12000 Virgins

Scott,
Do I know you????? I am very confused !!!!!!!!!!!!!

Caroline

From: Brown_Sugar
Date: 23 February 1996
Subject: Re: 12000 Virgins

Who the hell are you?

Tyisha

From: Keith
Date: 23 February 1996
Subject: Re: 12000 Virgins

katy and lou are both gone... she in this hemishpere i think but
really not sure. and he didnt
pass enough classes to merit the university allowing him to spend his
fathers money here.. so much for both academic execellance and the
lucrative nature of academia... if he pays why kick him out?

From: SAGReiss
Date: 23 February 1996
Subject: La Comecabra

The theme of the past few weeks at work has been the dreaded monster from Puerto Rica, la Comecabra or in some versions Chupacabra. The English version is Goatkiller. The French press has surely reported the vile deeds of the Mangeur (or) Tueur des Chevres or perhaps even on analogy with casse-couilles they have called it the Mange-Chevre, but the Germans no doubt have the best title, soon to be the title of an opera, Der Geissfresser. Dr Geisskopf is preparing a treatise on the whole matter even as we speak. Predictably enough the whole thing has degenerated to comechucha and whatnot. I can hear you all laughing at this kind of dumb-ass dishroom humor, but who gives a fuck if you like my jokes. We haven't asked your opinion. Sorry to hear about Sweet Lou. This fucking place. That is a smart boy, and a good man. How the fuck they could throw him out (let alone a man of my calibre) escapes me. I've no fear for him though. He's resoursful and he'll kick some ass when the time comes, which may be soon, for I think I've got a lead to publish Babel. A publisher asking for cyberpunk and erotica. Dr Geisskopf will see you now. I'm sending it out again on Monday. Calamity Kate must be on that boat she told me about, sailing around Asia or something. She suggested I apply for a job there. Career counselling from my students. Actually you Jeff were instrumental in landing me my current job. As to the ladies who wrote asking me who I am, or if we knew eachother, I am exactly who I said I was, and we know eachother well enough or little enough for you to have given me your e-mail. I didn't steal it. I'm an ex-future French teacher at Syracuse University or, in the words I've written for the liner notes of Babel: "a foul-mouthed, drunken polyglot intellectual”. The ritualistic repetition of words outside of any meaningful context, to get back to the subject of this letter, fits very well with my theory of language, which might even be true for all I know. Indeed ladies you know far more about me than I know about you, but you’re free to remain in the shadows or introduce yourselves or even sign off, as you wish. This is a very anarchistic medium. Rectum Vinum.

From: a plea from a sick little girl
Date: 23 February 1996
Subject: Re: La Comecabra

Hi. Please don't send me anymore e-mail. I don't know who you are or how you got my address, but I would prefer not to hear from you anymore. Thanks. Bye.

Amye

From: SAGReiss
Date: 23 February 1996
Subject: Re: La Comecabra

Sorry you're sick, dear. You gave me your e-mail, probably on the lambda moo, but of course I won't write you anymore if you wish. It's just a harmless little experiment in the electronic age of literature. Sorry if you were offended.

From: Brown_Sugar
Date: 24 February 1996
Subject: Re: La Comecabra

Have been at Diversity University?

Tyisha

From: Brown_Sugar
Date: 24 February 1996
Subject: Re: 12000 Virgins

Don't bother answering the email I just sent you. I remember you now. How could I forget. Excuse the fuck out of me.

Tyisha

From: SAGReiss
Date: 25 February 1996
Subject: Feeling quiet

I have no fucking idea who CARLTON&PETRINA are. I didn't type that, so far as I know. Please use both of my e-mail addresses 'cause I don't seem to be receiving all my mail on vcomm.net. Why have I got to do all of the talking?

From: SAGReiss
Date: 25 February 1996
Subject: Before work

Short note. You see there is some attrition, but some new members. Yes, Tyisha that's me from DU. I'm the brilliant but dangerous one, dixit Jeanne. Say hello to her from me. Tell her I still think she's a fat white bitch. She got me knocked off of two internet providers, the cunt. I can't forgive Katie and Sweet Lou. They've still got active accounts at SU and didn't fucking leave me their passwords, the bastards. I've finally figured out how to use this new provider. MSN is a fascist monopoly, but it can come in handy, but this one is fifteen dollars a month unlimited and uncensored. I just have to figure out what to type from the telnet prompt. Any ideas? Please feel free, all of you not just Jeff, to answer all of us, not just me. And you can also invite any of your friends onto this MOO simply by adding their address to the list. It's tiresome to type them all, but perhaps I'll figure out how to use the address book...

From: SAGReiss
Date: 25 February 1996
Subject: Quiet out there

Stunning silence. I can feel you out there or maybe you just don't check your e-mail very often. Only Amye begged off in a letter entitled "A plea from a sick little girl". I was so ashamed I wrote a letter apologizing if I had hurt her feelings, told her it was all just a harmless little experiment of some kind, which it may be. These things have a habit of getting out of hand and changing into something diferent from what you expected them to be. All of you (unless you wear a condom on each finger when you touch your keyboard) are now infected with a brand-new digital strain of the AIDS virus. Remember there's no such thing as (depending on my mood and the time of day) safe sex, virtual reality or paranoia (I stole that one from Hunter S. Thompson who stole it from some guy called F.X. Leach.) I do wonder about you all, sitting out there reading this weird craziness, reading my mind. Whatever...

From: SAGReiss
Date: 25 February 1996
Subject: Fat White Bitches

Who would believe that my latest lust interest at work (since Charlene was promoted and transfered) is a fat white bitch from California, a senior psychology major and a sorority sister (or whatever they're called). When I confessed this weakness to Mark, one of the gay boys, but I like him, he said: "She's not that fat." Not that fat? She must weigh seventy-five kilos. She's obese. In fact she is as fat as she could possibly be without being a blob, but this is precisely her great charm. For she has beautifully sculpted curves. I think the danger of great beauty tottering on the edge of great ugliness turns me on. It's morbidly fascinating. Of course what is firm baby fat now will be mush in ten years, but that's just the point. Right now she's perfect, but it's a fleeting, vulnerable perfection. Just the idea of so much pale pink flesh to play with drives me crazy. I've never screwed a big woman, though I've had a lot of scrawny ones. I wonder what it would be like. I'm going to try to find out. She's got some low rent fratboy punk, but so much woman could never be satisfied by some mincing undergraduate. No, she needs a man of calibre and I think I may be just the man for the job. I already asked her out for a drink once, but she couldn't. I'll ask her out again I think Wednesday we're both closing at night. She's also the only person I work with with even a smattering of human intelligence and even a rumor of a rudimentary education. The others are frighteningly ignorant, beasts. It's all crazy of course. What I need is a sleek, brown skinned type. Wish me luck.

From: Caroline
Date: 26 February 1996
Subject: Re: Fat White Bitches

Will you please stop sending me your idiotic email.......

From: Tom
Date: 26 February 1996
Subject: Re: Fat White Bitches

sir-
no disrespect but could you please delete this address off of your distribu-
tion list for your e-mails- my sister in law is a student at the university
of syracuse and i have sent her some e-mail-a glitch in the system somehow got
me onto your e-mail list- thank you for taking care of this-

Tom

From: SAGReiss
Date: 26 February 1996
Subject: Finally

I have finally figured this fucking thing out. Yes it's a clear ride from here on in. the day didn't look good when i woke up at four to go to work only to find i am on tonight half past two till closing, about half past eleven, but i got in touch with IDT and they helped me with telnet and i figured out my own fucking e-mail address. i hadn't been using the fucking local host name. some girl dropped out calling my mail idiotic. Is it? but as you can see i add new members every day. people out there are looking for something. i don't know what. is it me? i even have to turn some people down. i may begin eliminating people who don't answer at all, just to say hello i am reading your letters. some of these accounts may not even be active i suspect. i can't believe you're all out there reading this drivel and have absolutely no comment at all. perhaps. who knows? I'll write more later. right now i'm getting on the fucking net. Salut bisamme.

From: SAGReiss
Date: 26 February 1996
Subject: Re: Finally

please be alerted my user id will probably change to sagr9 in a couple of days so if gabe19 doesn't work try that or wait for new mail. thanks.

From: SAGReiss
Date: 27 February 1996
Subject: Saddam Hussein

That's what we call him, although the front desk calls him Mr Blankets and his credit card says Stephen Hussein. He's the nephew of the Illustrious One and tonight he ordered first a fish of the day dinner and a bottle of Pino Grigio, which I brought up to him and his sleazy blonde SU co-ed, then he ordered another, saying to the fat white hostess, with whom I'm having no luck at all, thanks to her chickenshit Jason, that it was so good he'd like another, and another bottle of white, and finally a slice of flourless chocolate cake with two flaeschele. All in all it was a fine night for Iraqui-American relations as he tipped me about twenty-five dollars, plus the twenty dollar service charge. Who cares what Mo has to say about it. I haven't seen any Kuwaiti Sheiks throwing around money. His English is very fine too. I had to train a new guy, after spending exactly two nights on room service myself, but when we both went in to this little girls (twentysomething) room the look of unmistakable dread ("This is what Mother warned me about.") was on her face. She thought she was about to be gang-banged by two balding skinny guys. She locked the door so fast after us she must have broken the world record for crossing a hotel room. After all that excitement there was the Delta Upsilon party in the bar. Two of the girls dressed and made up as hookers, one in scarlet one in black, were at the hostess station arguing about the whereabouts of a certain black bra: "Well I'll check under my pillow, but I don't think it's there." "I can't believe you said that," says the hostess after they'd left. "That wasn't so bad. I've said far worse." Shit the girls thought it was funny and I lit their cigarettes. After all, this is a full-service hotel, or so I'm told...

From: SAGReiss
Date: 27 February 1996
Subject: 4X4

Sorry, I couldn't resist that joke in very poor taste. Although both men and women fantasize about rape, I have seen a woman gang banged and it didn't look like much fun. I hesitate to put you on the MOO, so I'll just send you blind copies (all these addresses are mine) of some of our mail and let you decide. Now that I think about it this is an all women's MOO except for me (our fearless leader) and Jeff, my best friend for whom I can personnally answer. He's very mean, but rape is not his style. Have I fainally figured it out? I was very drunk last night, but are you black?  That would explain the weird first name. Most of the members of this MOO are more or less of color and/or speak different tongues than English. I spend my free time on the net or in the ghetto with the bros and spent (as I think I told you) ten years speaking in tongues in Europe. Anyway it's up to you. You would certainly add very much to our little world...

From: CARLTON&PETRINA
Date: 28 February 1996
Subject: Re: Finally

Dont be a prick. If they arent answering its because your words have such a sobering effect, their fear haunts and spooks them into silence. I wasnt quite sure what you meant by "email club" but it fascinates the hell outta me. I have questions to come...for you.

From: CARLTON&PETRINA
Date: 28 February 1996
Subject: Re: Saddam Hussein

Fascinating stuff...Whos Saddam Hussein? The service was lousy, but im told there was this one fellow who was hung like a horse...they called him "SAG" How you like that Scott, remember me Wild Lisa, the negress?

From: Nichelle
Date: 28 February 1996
Subject: Re: 4X4

Thank you for forwarding that email to me. I'm not sure that I understand why you hesitate to add me to the list. Trust me, I can handle just about anything. As to whether or not I am black, no I'm not. I am the only white Nichelle I have ever met or heard of. I was named after a black girl in a day care where my mother worked when my father was away in Vietnam.
I will send you more about the rape experiences and whatever else comes to mind after I finish all of my rehearsals and performances tonight. I'm in a shitty production of Big River which runs every night until Saturday. I haven't been sleeping enough, and I have fast food for dinner far too often because I have only one hour before the show. I need a shower before the show tonight, so I may just skip dinner entirely. More soon-

Nichelle

From: Brown_Sugar
Date: 28 February 1996
Subject: Re: Saddam Hussein

Although it says that this message is on the topic Saddam Hussein is really is not. My apologies to all for not making consistent responses but I have been swamped with midterms. And don't you worry Scott if you remember I have a mouth just as big as yours and I can sometimes be just as cynical as your opinionated as.
Take Care

Tyisha

From: SAGReiss
Date: 28 February 1996
Subject: Sale of Two Titties

Two girls I spoke with today, yesterday technically, but there's no tomorrow on the 'net, particularly for those who may work either day or evening shifts and drink too much to remember the past, two new members of this MOO or 'net or whatever it is. (By the way my IDT account is temporarily fucking up. I may keep this one as an occasional backup. Shiiit even Wild Bill Gates needs money.) Both of them are students, one in Israel, one in Washington state. Both of them are probably going to be very angry at me when and if I send this letter. The former I have MOOknown for months having spent quite a few very drunken nights promising to take the next flight out of Kennedy to go marry her and become a spy for the Mossad. She won't even tell me her fucking name, even though she's newly available, having broken up with her low-rent boyfriend from the army. She is clinically totally paranoid and will probably have fits when she sees I have publicized her e-mail address. Don't worry, darling, these are our friends. None of them, to my knowledge, belong to the Jihad. Nor do I, at least not yet. They're processing my job application. The latter is called Nichelle, named, as she told me, after a sister, so I was at least a little right on that score. She told me she has been raped four times, including a kind of 'netrape or daterape by someone she met on the MOO. Now all of you out there are women except for me and Jeff, and as I assured Nichelle, he's very mean but rape is not his style, at least not yet, but he may grow into it as time goes by. You see he's very young. Which all leads me to what? I can't really remember, but why would a perfectly secure young Israeli not want to give her name to a friend, but a girl who has had a rather bad experience on the 'net, well on the floor I think she told me, freely give out her e-mail to a stranger (and you all know I'm strange) and ask to become part of our little group? Beats me. There's no such thing as paranoia...

From: Nichelle
Date: 28 February 1996
Subject: Re: 4X4

Hello again. Here is my promised reply about the rapes. I have been thinking all day about how to write this and where I ought to begin. I guess I'll just start.

The first time I was raped and molested, I was seven years old. My family was living in Renton, which is a suburb of Seattle. I was a very sweet little girl (some say I still am), very shy and introverted (which isn't quite as true now), and I absolutely idolized my neighbor Jamie. I remember two occasions when he abused me sexually. The first time, I was spending the night with the neighbors because my parents and brother were out of town for some reason. We were lying there talking with the lights turned off, me on the floor and Jamie on his bed. He told me that the monsters were going to get me if I stayed on the floor. He told me that he would protect me.

When I got into his bed, he began to touch my body. I can't blame him for that, I suppose, because I imagine that my little girl skin was so smooth and so pretty he was just overwhelmed by the temptation to touch it. I think he was about fourteen. He took my hand in his and placed it on his penis. He said things to me that I can't remember now. He put his fingers in my little vagina, and I knew it was wrong but I trusted him.

Another day, I was playing games at Jamie's house. I don't remember what. He took me up to his bedroom, took off his pants and undressed me. He made me suck on his cock, he made me lie down on his bed while he rubbed it between my legs, trying to force it inside of me. I don't remember anything else of that day, except that horrible huge dick in me, ripping me up. He told me not to tell anyone about it. It took me aboaut twelve years to finally face the fact that it had happened.

When I was ten my mom, brother, and I moved to Spokane WA after my parents divorce. Mom remarried within the year to a repulsive man named Chris, the only person I have ever hated. He treated all of us abusively, and this time I was old enough to know it. It was common for him to stand next to me, slide his hand up my shirt and stroke my skin, telling me how smooth it was, how lovely it was. He always tried to kiss me, and would hold me in the kiss when I tried to get away. He made me watch pornos with him in his bed. While we watched them, he would tell me about how he fucked my mother. He would rub his cock under the covers, or play with my breasts. I would lie there quietly, afraid to move, screaming inside because I knew I had no control. When he raped me, I told my mother about it. It was never mentioned again. Maybe she felt as helpless as I did.

My mom and Chris divorced when I was about thirteen or so. I was a pretty normal kid, didn't appear to be too fucked up. I did all of the normal things kids do. I dated in high school, had plenty of friends, didn't really think much about what had happened.

Then my friend Jen threw a huge, loud, wild party. It isn't really my style, but I went anyway. This guy named Jason asked me if I wanted to talk somewhere quiet. When we found somewhere out of the way, we talked a little, then he pushed me down and the next thing I knew he was fucking me, holding down my wrists, telling me it was my fault I didn't like it. "What's your problem, whore? I'm gonna fuck you til you like it." When he was done with me, he left. I walked down to my car, drove home, stood in the shower numbly scrubbing my body until the water came out cold and my body felt as numb as my mind. I went to sleep, I got up and went about my life in a trance. I don't really know how long that lasted. It was my fault. If it happens once, it is bad luck. If it happens twice, it is coincidence. If it happens a third time, I thought, it is your fucking fault. I snapped. I hated myself. I hated the world. I wanted to die, and I tried to kill myself. Obviously, it didn't happen.

Things changed because they had to. Nobody can live with this kind of anguish forever. I suffered a lot. For about four years, I think, I did very little except suffer, feel like a victim, hate life. I got sick of it. Eventually, you get really tired of it. So I decided not to suffer anymore. There was an actualy moment when I said, "Enough of this bullshit." And I'm glad there was. You asked me why I'm not meaner. That's why. I don't want to be mean. I don't want to be a victim in my own mind.

When I met this guy from the MOO, I didn't know that he would rape me. I had met several other people. We didn't always hit it off, but I hadn't slept with any of them, and nothing dangerous happened. I rode the greyhound for 25 hours or so to meet this guy. He raped me on his living room floor and cut up my leaft breast and left a scar by my left collarbone. I think there are at least five scars from those razor cuts.

I went home. That's it. I left, I went home. He's an asshole. He's a fucking psycho. But I am *not* his victim. I will never be a vitim again.

Of course I can't just decide that hey, I'm happy, and nothing will ever hurt me again. I mean, this has completely fucked up my sex life. I'm working on that, because I don't want a lifetime of bad sex. Or a lifetime of no sex.

Does this explain things a little? I have not lied to you, nor do I intend to. All this talk about rape isn't really where I like to begin when explaining myself, but if it comes up it's just impossible to resist. You just sit there like Pandora, cracking her knuckles and licking her lips as she imagines lifting the fucking lid. Hmm, what's in here?

Later-

Nichelle

From: Brown_Sugar
Date: 28 February 1996
Subject: Re: Sale of Two Titties

Although I do not particularly like the topic Scott I am not surprised that you would think of some shit like that. Anyway this is just a response to Scott's complaint about lack of response to the messages he types. I do not want you to think that I abandoned you my dearest Scott but the truth of the matter is that UC Berkeley has got me stressed beyond belief with the occurrences of these midterms around the same time. I am letting all of you out there know that I can be just as obnoxious, cynical, stubborn, and opinionated as Scott but the reason I have not been able to reek terror as of yet is because of all these damn midterms. I hope that everyone has a great fucking day.
Cheers,

Tyisha

From: Nichelle
Date: 28 February 1996
Subject: Re: 4X4

I would like for you to tell me more about your MOO. What exactly do you want? Conversation? An audience? How long has it existed? Who are these people?

Nichelle

From: SAGReiss
Date: 28 February 1996
Subject: Only the beginning

I am now sure that this is going to work. The first of my crazy, brilliant schemes to pan out. Now I can level with you all. I may not even be the best writer on my own fucking MOO. Nichelle will give me a good battle for that coveted crown. By the way, Nichelle, be it said in passing, you are a very brave woman and I respect the sheer courage of what you are doing more than any other act of willpower I can think of, and I myself have a will of steel. I encourage you to share that blind message you wrote me with the others. I can't take that responsibility, but please consider it. Well then Ladies and Jeff (I was going to say gentleman, but that's another story.) this is a writing workshop where we are going to write the world's first e-novel. Babel is more of conventional novel because written mostly off the 'net by more or less one man. Let's say it's the novel of transition which leads inevitably to this. I have chosen you all simply because you are smart and mean and (if Nichelle is any example) write like whirling dirvishes. We are all going to be rich and famous. As king of this MOO I decide who gets the cash and the answer is we each get an equal share. I'll simply decide when I think we've got enough or see a fitting ending, and then I'll shop it around the publishing houses. Of course by then I may have already made me and Corinne and Jeff rich and famous by publishing Babel. The novel of letters has a long and rich and noble tradition dating back at least to the Romans, which is a long time ago if you happen to twenty-one years old. As to your questions, Nichelle, there are no rules. As far as I'm concerned anyone can write anything they want to anyone in any language. I suggest that I receive copies if you send blind copies amongst yourselves so that there will be a central depository for all the letters, but if you prefer Corinne as secretary that's fine too. As to your chickenshit exams, Tyisha, anyone on this MOO should be a (wo)man of enough calibre never to study for an exam. I never have and look where it got me. Oops, waiting tables at the Sheraton. Never mind. Actually I did fail an exam once, actually I failed the same exam about seven times, but I more than made up for that on the GRE. On a lighter front boys and girls I almost got married again last night on the 'net. Yes we did have cybersex on the first date, or rather I cyberate her. When I asked if she had actually masturbated (Most people don't, I have the impression.) she gave an ambiguous answer, but she let me do all the talking for quite a while... This is a bad-ass woman and I'd like to share her with you, and show her what I have wrought, for I am very proud of you all. I can't do this yet for a couple of reasons. Number one Jeff has a habit of screwing up my love life irl. Instead of introducing me to beautiful, drunken young sluts, he gets Katy all pissed off at me. I'm so sorry Katie and Lou are here to see this. I'm hurt that Lou didn't come to me for help. I'd have written his term papers for him and told him what's going to be on the exams. You think I couldn't pass Psych 101? Shiiit. Number two is this is a very conservative 30 year old broad with a lot of class and I can't let her see too much of me all at once. It takes a while to get used to my sense of humour and understand all the bad craziness. I apologize to you and to her, but all's fair in love and war. I was so fucking charming last night it was like the keyboard was on fire. I just kept throwing out these elegant, witty, hilarious lines and she kept hitting LOL. We also had our first spat. She thought I was making fun of her on a soft spot (her divorce of which she remains deeply ashamed) and she went off like a rocket. I mean I was scared seeing this white hot anger spewing out of the screen. In the middle of this savage brawl I said: "You seem to have a short fuse. I'll remember that." "How dare you." It was scary, but I managed to talk her out of it. I was in very fine form. To her credit she never even threatened to leave the room, but just sat by and talked it out. I'll remember never to say anything about used sheets in her company. Anyway it feels like the real deal. Stop snicker Jeff you asshole, I can get cyberwed if I like. So anyway kids, that's about it. I need your help. We can only write this together and so far I do all the talking. I think ssullivan is an empty account. If you know someone you'd like to bring on, please feel free, but no children please. I don't feel like being busted by some thugs in the pay of Pat Buchanan and thrown on a chain-gang in Newt Gingrich's state. Oh one other thing, Nichelle. It's just a slight criticism of a very brilliant text. I didn't really care for the sleazy, cliche-ridden hollywood ending about not being a victim and whatnot. Your story is so good it doesn't need a conclusion. This is literature, people, it doesn't need to be literary.

From: SAGReiss
Date: 28 February 1996
Subject: Cybercourtship

My Dear Karen,

That was some first cyberdate. We have our first spat and end up in the cybersack. I am so pleased to have met you. I have told all of my friends about you like some lovestruck teenager. They are all making fun of me. I am just so amazed to find that such a woman would be interested in me. I'm so used to being treated like shit on the 'net by punks who think they're my betters because I have got a piece of paper to say I'm smart and actually have to work with my hands on something other than a keyboard to buy my food. The truth is I'm a little ashamed of my job myself. Something is a little wrong with either me or the world when a world-class intellectual (I published and article in the very posh French literary journal Les Temps Modernes when I was just 26.) has to wait tables to pay the rent. It's my own fault, really. I'm an arrogant man who doesn't suffer fools gently (Is that the right adverb? My English...) (Maybe that should be gladly?) I don't think we shall disappoint eachother should we ever meet irl. I'm a keen enough reader to see the person behind her words and I'm sure you are too. I don't want to start another brawl, but if you look at the text (My attempt to save it failed and I'm not sure I'm disappointed. Some things are best left in the mind's eye, as I said about music and artwork.) you did go off very fast. The anger was burning up the screen. I was frightened. I was stunned too by your subsequent confession, by it's depth of feeling so eloquently worded. It sounded like a confession. You have nothing to apologize for or be ashamed of. Maybe he was a bum and maybe you were very young. Perhaps the best way for us to communicate is through @talk. I'm not too sure how this works, but I think if one of us just types @talk and the e-mail address it might work. I'll see if I can find out. For some strange reason I can't think of anything to say, which, as you might have noticed last night, is something that seldom happens to me. I'm not working this evening, so maybe I'll see you on MSN.

Sincerely,

Scott Alexander Gabriel Reiss

From: scaredycat
Date: 28 February 1996
Subject: technical junk

read your mail, didn't know what to make of it. anyway, being the helpful person that i am, i'll give you some boring technical advice.

first of all what you have is not a MOO.
in Pavel Curtis' (the omnipotent) own words:
> MOO stands for "MUD, Object Oriented." MUD, in turn, has been said to stand
> for many different things, but I tend to think of it as "Multi-User Dungeon"
> in the spirit of those ancient precursors to MUDs, Adventure and Zork.

if you do not have a MOO, what *do* you have?

it looks to me more like a mailing list
there are programs that handle such a medium, allowing `Bucephalus` and the rest of the internet's electronic beings to do the technical work for you. any other kind of work, such as writing, even a 150MHz monster wont do for you. (do female programmers get pentium envy? sadly the answer is yes.)

i would suggest a couple of alternatives:

1. get a mail exploder program, so you can create a mailing list, there are two kinds of mailing lists, moderated and non-moderated. the first lets the lists' administrator (you) decide what is `fit to print` from what people send in. the second just posts everything automaticaly. you can add people to this mailing list and remove them as you please (the normal procedure lets people send anemail with the subject:`subscribe` and automatically they are added to the list).
** i didn't find out where to get such a program, i could, if you want.

2. there is also an option of creating a newsgroup on the usenet, this will allow *anyone* read the list (you can make it moderated or not, as well).
** to create one you have to write to news.annouce.newsgroups (read the FAQ
** first!) and give them the name of the group (like alt.wierd.email or
** whatever) and the topic for discussion.

whatever you choose, i think you should also look into creating a web page explaining what your discussion group/list is about, and giving information on how to reach you (such as your list's email address or your newsgroup's name).

if you want i can send you a bunch of file about these subjects full of the techno-bable i'm so fond of.

--scaredycat

p.s.
if i understood you correctly, you come to the MOO to get people's email it might be easier if you register as a character (objectively speaking of course...) simply type:
@request Scott_Alexander_Gabriel_Reiss for sagreiss@yourmail.com
(or any other alias you like)

From: scaredycat
Date: 29 February 1996
Subject: Servers...

i give up.
forward the mail that you sent to microwave, just for now.
i think nether.net is down for the day...
(next time use nether.net as usual)
--scaredycat

From: SAGReiss
Date: 29 February 1996
Subject: Lovescript

Despite rumours to the contrary I did manage to script last night's cyberdate from hell. It's beautiful. Someday I'll let you all read it. I'm delighted. I was very surprized by your letter, Rita. It was very thoughtful, kind and even helpful. You sometimes strike me as immature, but this letter impresses me. And I thought you were going to gouge my eyes out on the MOO for signing you up without your permission. Your llogic, however, is poor concerning what constitutes a MOO. You say: "Multi-User Domain that is Object Oriented". This is a domain, which is just a space or place. There are a dozen or so users. And it is object oriented, the object being to create new works of literature. The only difference is that this is not in real time. I don't see why that matters. I will investigate non-moderated mailing lists. It's not up to me to decide what everyone can and can't send. We must be able to control who comes on. The fucking geeks are not going to take over my MOO. So option two doesn't interest us. We're a private, for profit corporation and I hereby declare you technical director. We can call you wizzard if you prefer that title. With those perameters would you please be so kind as to look into a mail exploder program? You're very kind. You're also very dumb and crazy not to come and visit me. You could sleep at Corinne and Jeff's place. Jeff is so pooped from cyber- and irldorking Corinne all day that he probably couldn't get a hard-on if you tried to rape him. Besides he's a ninety-pound weakling and you could take him out. You were a soldier in one of the best trained armies in the world. What have you got to be affraid of?

From: SAGReiss
Date: 29 February 1996
Subject: Lovescript

Darling I have found the tape of last night, at least most of it, everything we said in room 219. I've very happy. I've been reading it and it's very beautiful. I could send you a copy if you give me your snail-mail address. Also I was throwing away some newspapers and found the magazine about China. I could send you that too if you were interested. It's not great, but some of the articles aren't too shabby. I think I may have figured out why I was having trouble finding words for this morning's letter. I don't think of you as a vr friend, but as a real friend and potential lover, whom I happen to have met and with whom I happen to communicate on the 'net, for now at least. May is not that far away ("Shall I compare thee to a summer's day"?). Wait, fuck Shakes. Here's a love poem I wrote (in translation). It also figures in Babel.

Marie please kiss me, fuck me, no not fuck
But tear my heart out with your rosy breath
Don't tear it out, but out of every vein
Suck my whole scattered soul between your arms.
No, no don't suck it, for upon my death
What would I be if not an empty ghost,
No body lying on the loveless bank
(Excuse me Pluto) where one fakes love games?
As long as we live let us love, Marie.
Love doesn't reign on the enchanted troops
Of death who wallow in steel sleep.
He lies when Pluto loves Persephone.
So sweet a care can't enter hardened breast.
Love reigns on Earth and never down in Hell.

I translated that from a sixteenth century French sonnet by Pierre de Ronsard.

From: Nichelle
Date: 29 February 1996
Subject: Re: Only the beginning

Hello, quick introduction, I'm Nichelle, hi hi.. Scott, I am perfectly willing to share my text with the list and will do it soon. In the meantime, one quick comment about your criticism of my text. Why is it that optimism is cliche? Why is it that you expect me to be some mean bitch because I have had a bad past?
I am actively and violently at war against bitterness and cynicism, and fuck you if you think it is cliche. Fine, wallow in your sarcasm and feel big and tough. I see no reason why an intelligent and independent, strong and experienced person cannot be optimistic, cannot express their need to break away from oppression, to elevate themselves above the statis of victim. More later.

Nichelle

From: SAGReiss
Date: 29 February 1996
Subject: Kicking ass

You misunderstand me, Nichelle. You are the big and tough one. I am small and weak. Anyone who doesn't answer your amazing letter doesn't deserve to be on this MOO. And I will begin excluding people, since I have decided that only those who participate actively, be it only one short letter, may continue. There are two exceptions, Corinne and Rita, and it's none of your fucking business why. You seem to have misunderstood me. Optomism per se is not a cliche. What is a cliche is the terms in which you couched your optomism. The stuff about not being a victim. I could read that in the newspaper every day. But very few people, if any, have read such a beautiful account of such horror as you gave to me. Do you see what I mean? I'm talking about literary merit, not substance or philosophy. I only just noticed, you've added someone to the MOO. I cannot express my admiration for you, Nichelle. You are a great woman, a giant, an Amazon, a champion, a world-class literary athelete. I welcome your friend in all of our names. It's like what one reads in the paper (and for those of you who don't know I'm an unrepentant, inveterate reader of newspapers, even USAToday): "Rape is a crime of power, not of sex." Well fine, but what the fuck is that supposed to mean? Someone wrote a book using all of La Rochefucault's famous Maximes and simply inverted the clauses so that they would mean exactly the opposite and they made just as much sense. Meaningful discourse is not so easy as it seems. You have given me a lesson in that and I hope you will pass it on to our fellow members. I repeat, because I cannot reiterate it enough, the awe and respect you inspire in me for your bold, brave behavior.

From: Brown_Sugar
Date: 29 February 1996
Subject: Re: Only the beginning

Sorry Scott,
There is a need for me to study my ass off. Unlike you I do not have the privelege of being white and male. (No intention of being racist). In case you forgot I am black and female. No that does not define me or what my personality entails; however the rest of society defines me by my gender and my ethnicity. Waiting tables when I can do so much more with this intelligence, that I have been blessed with, is demeaning to and for me. So don't tell me not study...as a matter of fact you should be encouraging me and congratulating me for taking care of business (something many people don't do these days which is why alot of things in this world are so fucked up.)

Dear Nichelle,
I think that it is great that you are filled with optimism and would like to spread that feeling around. The world could use that as well instead of continuously putting others down for attempting to make the world a better place. Anyway, I just wanted to tell you to keep on what you are doing.

Everyone,

Excuse my rudeness, but my name is Tyisha and I am a first year sophomore at the University of California at Berkeley. My major is political science and english. I am going to Yale Law School to major in corporate law for graduate school. By the way a first year sophomore is a first year student with sophomore status for those of you who did not know and also take notice that I said I ma going to Yale not that I want to. So watch out world because you have got a hot one in your hands. I hope that all of us can become great associates if not friends.
And I'm out,

Tyisha

From: SAGReiss
Date: 29 February 1996
Subject: Re: Lovescript

Corinne and Jeff don't you see this? Please fucking e-mail us. Don't you realize what's happening. It's working. We are really going to be able to build our own MOO, and look at the bad-asses who are already on it. I can't believe you two aren't trembling with exitement as am I. These are the best and the brightest and the baddest and they're working with us. Sure they treat me like a scumbag from time to time, but that's to be expected. This is new to all of us. No one knows what to expect here. This is a whole new world...

From: Brown_Sugar
Date: 29 February 1996
Subject: Mail Returns.

You need to take off Gabe19 and sagr9 because everytime I email I get some kind of error and it is these addresses that keep coming up. Take care of it.
Thanx,

Tyisha

From: bat7
Date: 29 February 1996
Subject: ListServ

this is what i came up with:

Majordomo
http://www.math.su.edu/barr/majordomo-faq.html
ftp://ftp.greatcircle.com/pub/majordomo/

VxWorks "Exploder" and Public Domain Archives/The Wind River Users
http://www.wrs.com/vxexplo.html
ftp.atd.ucar.edu /pub/.. (someplace in there...

About: e-mail Handling
http://www.organik.uni erlangen.de/info/about-MAIL.html

if i hadn't been so annoid i would spend a bit more than a 5 minute search.
why search at all you ask? *i* keep *my* promises.

--scaredycat

p.s.
if you have trouble with something, RTFM!

From: Nichelle
Date: 29 February 1996
Subject: Oppression and Optimism

Here is the text exactly as it was sent to Scott. Cheese and all. Part of the reason, and he didn't tell you this, that I felt a need to get into the victim thing is that he was really hesitant to add me to this list. A victim was all of me he seemed to see. A Girl Who Has Been Raped Four Times. That is one danger of sharing things about yourself. People judge you enough, as Tyisha pointed out, without giving them more ammunition.

I reserve the right to share this with only the people I choose. It is being shared with you in confidence, and don't take that lightly.

---------- Forwarded message ----------
Hello again. Here is my promised reply about the rapes. I have been thinking all day about how to write this and where I ought to begin. I guess I'll just start.

The first time I was raped and molested, I was seven years old. My family was living in Renton, which is a suburb of Seattle. I was a very sweet little girl (some say I still am), very shy and introverted (which isn't quite as true now), and I absolutely idolized my neighbor Jamie. I remember two occasions when he abused me sexually. The first time, I was spending the night with the neighbors because my parents and brother were out of town for some reason. We were lying there talking with the lights turned off, me on the floor and Jamie on his bed. He told me that the monsters were going to get me if I stayed on the floor. He told me that he would protect me.

When I got into his bed, he began to touch my body. I can't blame him for that, I suppose, because I imagine that my little girl skin was so smooth and so pretty he was just overwhelmed by the temptation to touch it. I think he was about fourteen. He took my hand in his and placed it on his penis. He said things to me that I can't remember now. He put his fingers in my little vagina, and I knew it was wrong but I trusted him.

Another day, I was playing games at Jamie's house. I don't remember what. He took me up to his bedroom, took off his pants and undressed me. He made me suck on his cock, he made me lie down on his bed while he rubbed it between my legs, trying to force it inside of me. I don't remember anything else of that day, except that horrible huge dick in me, ripping me up. He told me not to tell anyone about it. It took me aboaut twelve years to finally face the fact that it had happened.

When I was ten my mom, brother, and I moved to Spokane WA after my parents divorce. Mom remarried within the year to a repulsive man named Chris, the only person I have ever hated. He treated all of us abusively, and this time I was old enough to know it. It was common for him to stand next to me, slide his hand up my shirt and stroke my skin, telling me how smooth it was, how lovely it was. He always tried to kiss me, and would hold me in the kiss when I tried to get away. He made me watch pornos with him in his bed. While we watched them, he would tell me about how he fucked my mother. He would rub his cock under the covers, or play with my breasts. I would lie there quietly, afraid to move, screaming inside because I knew I had no control. When he raped me, I told my mother about it. It was never mentioned again. Maybe she felt as helpless as I did.

My mom and Chris divorced when I was about thirteen or so. I was a pretty normal kid, didn't appear to be too fucked up. I did all of the normal things kids do. I dated in high school, had plenty of friends, didn't really think much about what had happened.

Then my friend Jen threw a huge, loud, wild party. It isn't really my style, but I went anyway. This guy named Jason asked me if I wanted to talk somewhere quiet. When we found somewhere out of the way, we talked a little, then he pushed me down and the next thing I knew he was fucking me, holding down my wrists, telling me it was my fault I didn't like it. "What's your problem, whore? I'm gonna fuck you til you like it." When he was done with me, he left. I walked down to my car, drove home, stood in the shower numbly scrubbing my body until the water came out cold and my body felt as numb as my mind. I went to sleep, I got up and went about my life in a trance. I don't really know how long that lasted. It was my fault. If it happens once, it is bad luck. If it happens twice, it is coincidence. If it happens a third time, I thought, it is your fucking fault. I snapped. I hated myself. I hated the world. I wanted to die, and I tried to kill myself. Obviously, it didn't happen.

Things changed because they had to. Nobody can live with this kind of anguish forever. I suffered a lot. For about four years, I think, I did very little except suffer, feel like a victim, hate life. I got sick of it. Eventually, you get really tired of it. So I decided not to suffer anymore. There was an actualy moment when I said, "Enough of this bullshit." And I'm glad there was. You asked me why I'm not meaner. That's why. I don't want to be mean. I don't want to be a victim in my own mind.

When I met this guy from the MOO, I didn't know that he would rape me. I had met several other people. We didn't always hit it off, but I hadn't slept with any of them, and nothing dangerous happened. I rode the greyhound for 25 hours or so to meet this guy. He raped me on his living room floor and cut up my leaft breast and left a scar by my left collarbone. I think there are at least five scars from those razor cuts.

I went home. That's it. I left, I went home. He's an asshole. He's a fucking psycho. But I am *not* his victim. I will never be a vitim again.

Of course I can't just decide that hey, I'm happy, and nothing will ever hurt me again. I mean, this has completely fucked up my sex life. I'm working on that, because I don't want a lifetime of bad sex. Or a lifetime of no sex.

Does this explain things a little? I have not lied to you, nor do I intend to. All this talk about rape isn't really where I like to begin when explaining myself, but if it comes up it's just impossible to resist. You just sit there like Pandora, cracking her knuckles and licking her lips as she imagines lifting the fucking lid. Hmm, what's in here?

Later-

Nichelle

From: bat7
Date: 29 February 1996
Subject: Scott Alexander Gabriel Reiss

i couldn't prove my point any better.
why would i give ID to someone that even can't keep my email to himself? don't mess a with hackers (or geeks as you might call them) let alone the paranoid ones.

> I was very surprized by your letter, Rita.
it's not rita.
> You say: "Multi-User Domain that is Object Oriented". This is a domain,
> which is just a space or place.
for all i care you can call THIS a `C++` and call ME `Rita` but no one
will know what you're talking about.
when my 'lil brother gets some word's defention wrong - unable to admit
his own ignorance, he mumbles something like, "whats the difference? as
long as i understand myself..."
> It's not up to me to decide what everyone can and can't send.
well, this email proves that in a way...
> The fucking geeks are not going to take over my MOO.
well... i don't think i have to answer that one (and what MOO is that?)
> We can call you wizzard if you prefer that title.
that's `wizard`, and i think i made it as to what extent i care for names.
you insist on useing people's names, but does it really matter?
if my name is rita, geek, george or scaredycat would it make a difference?
would i be a different person? yet, on the other hand your lack of
knowladge causes you to say things "...my MOO" and once you realize that
you are wrong, you are compelled to give lame excuses. A MOO is not a MOO
by any other name. i am.
> You were a soldier in one of the best trained armies in the world.
and i know karate ;-)
> With those perameters would you please be so kind as to look into a
mail
> exploder program?
yes.
> Both of them are students, one in Israel, one in Washington state.
just to give you the facts, i am not a student.
> The former I have MOOknown for months having spent quite a few very
> drunken nights promising to take the next flight out of Kennedy to go marry
> her and become a spy for the Mossad.
i think the chances of the mossad accepting someone like you are about as
high as me saying yes (or, come to think of it, meeting you at the air-port)
> She won't even tell me her fucking name
i think we coverd the name subject already...
> even though she's newly available, having broken up with her low-rent
> boyfriend from the army.
not having a bf doesn't make me available, mind you.
> She is clinically totally paranoid and will probably
> have fits when she sees I have publicized her e-mail address.
true, true. but i think i win this round, this email i gave you is a
freenet, no one knows my name and i don't keep any secret files here. so,
hack away! you'll find nothing. and flames are welcome. i like getting
the >>>new mail<<< message.
> why would a perfectly secure young Israeli not want to give her name to a
> friend, but a girl who has had a rather bad experience on the 'net, well on
> the floor I think she told me.
bad experience on the net? if i think netsex is pathetic it's not because
of some so-called cyber rape or god knows what newbies like you think
happen on the net. what is cyber rape? it's when people invade you
privacy, thats all we (or at least i) have to keep to ourselves on the
net. if you were to hack personal files i would call that cyber rape, if
you crack my password and use my name, that is cyber rape. cyber rape is
not forced netsex. forced netsex is ASCII characters on my screen.
> freely give out her e-mail to a stranger (and you all know I'm strange) and
> ask to become part of our little group?
If you read my letter again, you will see that i never asked to become a
part of it. i still don't understand it, i get the `lets make lotsa money
on the net` but i have yet to comprehend the `how` part.
> Beats me. There's no such thing as paranoia...
whatever you say `king of the MOO`.

before you go on your holy quest for money and power, consider the
following:
you are (like it or not) a newbie, a stranger in another country with
rules and history of it's own.
i once told you to learn netiquette, but i was wrong.
the MTV generation has taken over.
once the only people connected where the people who could figure out how
to use it.
today, every undergraduate can his paws on the net and the whole world
can hear his voice.

--scaredycat (excuse my spelling, it's a second language)

>> A Beautiful obsession with the binary world <<
>> By Steven Levy <<

She can kill all your files;
She can freeze with a frown.
And a wave of her hand brings the
whole system down.
And she works on her code until ten
after three.
She lives like a bat but she's always a
hacker to me.

- from the LOTS
Hacker songbook

From: Nichelle
Date: 29 February 1996
Subject: Re: Scott Alexander Gabriel Reiss

> > why would a perfectly secure young Israeli not want to give her name to a
> > friend, but a girl who has had a rather bad experience on the 'net, well on
> > the floor I think she told me.
> bad experience on the net? if i think netsex is pathetic it's not because
> of some so-called cyber rape or god knows what newbies like you think
> happen on the net. what is cyber rape? it's when people invade you
> privacy, thats all we (or at least i) have to keep to ourselves on the
> net. if you were to hack personal files i would call that cyber rape, if
> you crack my password and use my name, that is cyber rape. cyber rape is
> not forced netsex. forced netsex is ASCII characters on my screen.

Just to clear things up, I didn't have a bad experience on the net. I had a bad experience with someone I knew from the net. It has nothing to do with netsex.

Also, I have seen MOO-rape and it wasn't pretty. Somebody wrote a rape verb, quite lengthy, and used it in a public room. Believe me, it did have an effect. It is possible to violate a person without them being physically present. It is possible to violate a person verbally.

Nichelle

From: SAGReiss
Date: 29 February 1996
Subject: Re: Lovescript

I shouldn't write when I'm this fucking angry and am having a cigarette for breakfast, but you've gone a little too far in your dumb-ass foolishness. I'm sorry, love, please remember you are about ten years younger than I and far less knowledgeable about everything except how to use a 'puter (which is why I asked for your help) and how to shoot a gun, which is about as useless a fucking skill as I can imagine. Don't give me that shit about second languages. I'll write to you in French or German if you prefer. If you would take five minutes (the time you so kindly allot me when you're annoyed) and read Nichelle's breathtaking letter you would see what a far better human being she is than either of us. We're not talking about ASCII, we're talking about a dick up the ass irl about four times and she's got the guts to come on this listserve, if that's what you want to call it, and share her experience with us in the simple, candid prose that have always made the best writing chilling and wounding. I have made a lot of jokes about daterape and the camps de viol in Bosnia and I shall continue to do so, but never again without wincing inside and thinking of Nichelle. She has given me a scar which will never heal, like reading Macbeth or the 120 Days of Sodom. By the way Nichelle I want to personnally apologize for the vile race of men, God and whoever else is responsible for all this shit. I don't give a fuck about your chickenshit hacking. Grow up, woman. There's no such thing as virtual reality.

From: SAGReiss
Date: 29 February 1996
Subject: Silence

Am I just a one-night cyberstand? Have I said something to piss you off? Is your server down? Or don't you check your e-mail very often? Should I call you in OZ? I'm confused. Please tell me what I should do.

From: SAGReiss
Date: 29 February 1996
Subject: Calmed down

I'm sorry about that childish little outburst. I was very angry at what seemed (and seems) to me your belittling of Nichelle's real life bad luck, if I may call it that. Let's be grown-up about this. If you want off the 'net, I think I still have the moral authority to take you off and prevent anyone else here from using your e-mail against your wishes. This is quickly spinning out of my control, but that was part of the plan. I do think about these things, you see. I don't think any of my friends would want to e-mail someone who isn't going to read it or answer it. What's the point in clogging up someone's inbox? If I made a mistake in putting you on here, I'm sorry. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Perhaps I got carried away. These are heady days. Anyway, I've calmed down, had some coffee, grapefruit and peanut butter bread, smoked a few cigarettes, taken a shit, bathed and done the dishes.Tyisha, I'm sorry about sagr9, but you'll have to bear with me. I can't afford to stay on MSN and I'm waiting for an upgrade from IDT. They're very hard to reach. It usually means waiting an hour playing mindless games of solitaire and listening to their stupid muzac and recorded messages. I'm taking care of it as fast as I can. Please be forewarned, all who don't speak up (except for you, Corinne and Jeff), I'm going to take your addresses out of this when I get the Eudora software in a few days. So please, just speak up if you want to be on here and say the word if you don't. Rectum vinum.

From: SAGReiss
Date: 29 February 1996
Subject: Times zones

I have to get used to the +15-hour time difference. I'm home now 10:40AM EST. I'm going to work in four hours. I too was around last night. I don't know who we missed eachother. We'll have to think of some way to work around my chaotic schedule and the time change. I'm sorry I couldn't talk to you last night. I'll tuck you in bed, platonically kiss your clitoris good-night and wish you sweet dreams.

From: karen have a guess
Date: 29 February 1996
Subject: Re: Silence

dear scott,

where were you tonight??
i was in the chat rooms. lobbies for hours!!
i read your email but it would have been 4am your time. therfore i didn't answer back. sorry.
anyway it's 1:15 am now and i'm off to bed now.
where are you now??
email me. i won't be close to my computer this weekend but i shall email you.
take care,

karen

From: SAGReiss
Date: 29 February 1996
Subject: +14 hours

I'll try to work this out. I guess it's fourteen hours because of daylight savings time or something. My phone book said fifteen, but I'll take your word for it.

NY: OZ

6AM: 10PM
9AM: 1AM
Noon: 4AM
3PM: 7AM
6PM: 10AM
9PM: 1PM
Midnight: 4PM
3AM: 7PM

I understand now. I was looking for you in the morning and early afternoon OZtime while you were working. You were looking for me in the very early morning NYtime when I was asleep. I'll be on tonight in the late afternoon and early evening OZtime if you're free. I'm working the nightshift doing room service. That's a weird job. People call me up to their rooms in their underware and worse. I'll look for you around 6PM OZtime. Sleep tight, my love.

From: bat7
Date: 29 February 1996
Subject: a couple of things

1.
please take me off your list. all i wanted to do was help you out with
the technical side.
i didn't do this because i wanted you to comment on my mental state, my
logic (rather the lack of it) or the fact that i'm paranoid.
i didn't do this because i wanted to give my email to people i do not
know, as nice and intelligent as they may be, i still do not know them.
i like to have control over that matter, and decide myself who may write
to me and who may not.
when i gave you my email, i presumed that my email would not appear on
all the recipients' copies. i assumed that only by sending in a letter
would i give away my email. for some odd reason i was thinking of any RL
newspaper: only when posting an artical is your name published, not when
you sit down in the morning to read it with your coffee. even though the
administator might have a list of subscribers (this is true for most
mailing lists, new groups and 'zines on the internet, and those that DO
publicize the list of readers MUST make this fact known to the subscriber
beforehand).
why did i do it? i'm not sure, maybe because i'm a compulsive helpful
person, yet another one of my many flaws.
2.
i didn't mean to offend nichelle@ewu.edu, i don't even know her. i wrote
that post to your group because you got me pissed (congradulations, thats
quite hard to do...)
3.
have you noticed the welcome screen of LambdaMOO? it has been changed. a
ballot was passed to include a line forbidding reaserchers or jurnalists
to quote a MOOer without permission. if you do so (not that you were
planning to do such atrocities), you may get disputed by this MOOer and
the wizards of LambdaMOO will put your connection site on a black list.
"what do i care about Lambda's legal system?" this will make it
impossible for you to connect again.
4.
> Despite rumours to the contrary I did manage to script last night's cyberdate
> from hell.
the correct term is `log`. as iRL, you "log events as they happen", you
do not "script" them. the technical deffenition for script is a list of
commands for a certian scenario. if you don't remember the non-technical
defention simply send an empty email to infobot@infomania.com with the
subject: WEBSTER SCRIPT
5.
why DID you get a 150MHz pentium?
--scaredycat

From: Nichelle
Date: 29 February 1996
Subject: A quick note

Scott, this is s quick personal message, which is why I am sending it only to you. I am flattered by the things you have said about me over the last few days. Apparently, you have managed to discard that scorn you felt the night of our meeting. I look forward to talking to you again, perhaps on the moo, minus the scorn this time. Soon-

Nichelle

March 1996

vr: 1996

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