From: Nichelle
Date: 1 August 1996
Subject: Laurent...
Laurent, I'm sorry. I tried to get back on Lambda, but I couldn't. We'll
have to continue our conversation about Seattle later, and in the meantime,
I'll try to get Gaby interested in joining a grunge band. I don't think he
has the hair for it. Yesterday he had it all cut off.
Murder, where are you? Do you read your e-mail anymore? I miss you terribly
and I wish you would write just a short note to say hello. I don't think I
will be able to meet you when you are in New York City, unless some miracle
happens or we win the lottery. I do think there is a strong possibility that
my mother will fly me to Spokane in December, though.
I'm waiting for e-mail, as always, but nobody writes anymore, not even Gaby.
I'll let him tell you about our trip to the French restaurant, when he's got
time. He's translating Michelangelo and feeling powerful at the moment. I
feel hollow, and have for months. With no job and no school, I have little
to contribute, and everything I do is wrong. I feel like a bratty child who
is scolded every several minutes for some annoyance. I have never felt so
anonymous, so childish, so ignorant, so ugly as I do now. I'm not a needy
person, not when I have a normal lifestyle, not when I can talk to people
and do things. But here, the walls are bare, and it's lonely, and I'm not
sure what is important anymore.
From: Jenipher
Date: 1 August 1996
Subject: Re: Laurent...
Does it help, Seashell, to know people have been where you are? I just want
to hold you and tell you everything will be ok, but I doubt that is what you
need.
I had just received my Master's degree when we moved to France. I went from
an incredibly hectic life as a working grad student to a life of total leisure
in a horrid little French village. I though I was dying. I cried all day,
every day, hours and hours a day. My life was empty. I wasn't contributing
anything to my world. Finally, my doctor put me on prozac, after I tried to
kill myself. I don't know how you feel about medicine, Seashell, or if you
can find a doctor there you trust. But if you don't think you can handle everything
by yourself anymore, please see a doctor. What you describe sounds so familiar
to me, I shiver when I read your emails.
I haven't responded to your email oh-so-long ago because I didn't know what
to say. You and I obviously will never agree about bdsm. I have begun speaking
with a real dom, one trained to dominate. She and I have entered into negotations
regarding my possibly serving her. I will keep you updated if you like. It
is a big step, but I think my husband and I have finally admitted that candle
wax and leather belts are fun, but I need more. I need things he just doesn't
have. I felt sick when he and I spoke about it, but he was so sweet and understanding.
I think he knows me better and trusts me more than I trust myself.
I asked Colin the other day why I had never been raped, and the question
opened a door in my mind. Why didn't my high school physics teacher fuck me
in the supply room? Why did my Dad stop just before he raped me? Why didn't
the dom at Chibash fuck me when he had me bound, legs spread, on the floor?
Why didn't TAs in my college courses hit on me when I was a freshman? All
of those things happen to other girls. Is it because they are prettier, sexier,
more fuckable? I think these things, and I am ashamed. And you know what?
That shames makes me want to take my husband home and hand him the belt and
ask him to whip me until I scream.
I really do think I found the source, the reason. I may not be explaining
it well. I know Colin didn't buy it. But the question, why haven't I ever
been raped, echoed so deeply within me, struck such a chord, that I knew I
had found something, some strange key to unlocking this pain.
Sorry for typos. I am in pine and can't seem to go back to correct.
Allset
From: Paticia
Date: 1 August 1996
Subject: RE: Welcome screen
Hi, I deleted all of today's mail, but I nneeded to say something so I'm
replying to an old letter I've saved. Not sure if this will go out to the
World or if it will just go to sagreiss, but anyway:
Allset, you are in need of a reality check. Why weren't you ever raped?
Was it because you weren't pretty enough? WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT? As if Stiff
Lips were the most alluring 7 year old on the block and that's why the neighbor
kid wanted to touch her, as if she had that come-on look in her eye and her
step-daddy just couldn't refuse. Get it straight, rape is not about sex, it
is about violence. It is about the fucking sick mind of the offender, the
twisted need to prey upon someone less powerful then himself. It is about
power.
Stiff Lips, everytime I read about your story I bleed for you. Right now
you are free from the rapists physically, but emotionally they still have
some hold on you. They come to you in nightmares. I think that one of Gabe's
most redeeming qualities is that he is there to hold you when the nightmares
come, he wants to help you through this. Have you ever gone through therapy,
or would you consider it? Or is there someone you can tell it all to, maybe
Gabe, you can get it all out of your system. I hope so.
For lack of better name,
Strawtop
From: Terry
Date: 1 August 1996
Subject: Whew...
Well, I can't Email much; I don't have the time. :) I'm busy on five MOO's
right now and have a very full real life.
I'm glad I'm on this Email list... I think I have problems until I read
it. I'm lucky. I'm sane. I've not been raped; I don't deserve to be raped.
If I ever participated in bdsm shit, it would be for the pure fun of it...
not because I *deserve* to be spanked or whatever. Geez, I feel so "normal"
after reading Email.
Whew.
Happy with me,
Teri, ArchDeluxe of RLMOO
From: SAGReiss
Date: 1 August 1996
Subject: Two angels
Alright, motherfuckers, take you shots, get them in now before I get really
angry. I may be small, but I'm lean and hard and can take a punch. I know
I'm going to get a beating for this anyway. I can't even answer Stiff Lips'
arguments without making things worse. "Realistic"? Was it realistic a year
ago for a man with neither a 'puter nor a university account nor any geek
knowledge nor friends nor money nor anything else to say: "I'm going to get
me a fucking MOO if it's the last thing I do"? We open in three days. I don't
know how to think about other people's work. I have never seen someone wield
the sullen, vengeful wrath that I put into everything I undertake. I have
heard stories about it, Tennessee William's concentration ("the most frightening
sight of the twentieth century" dixit Truman Capote) and others I can't think
of right now. Do what you have to do, Allset. Here's what I do: ArchDeluxe
is pressuring us to describe the remaining two rooms so she can have them
back? Fine, so last night, after a long and stressful day (More on that later.)
I found a quatrain of a sonnet by Michelangelo (XV by Symonds' reckoning)
so beautiful it escaped two highly-paid, silver-haired, emeriti professors.
So I can't read Italian, don't know the grammar, don't have a dictionary?
Only a fool or a child would be afraid. Here's the four verses with three
English translations, one of which I hammered out in three quarters of an
hour, first last night with Stiff Lips interrupting me, then this morning
on the shitter, finally while walking from the liquor store to the supermarket.
I will put them in random order and you can choose the best one:
Non ha l'ottimo artista alcun concetto
c'un marmo solo in se non circonscriva
col suo superchio, e solo a quello arriva
la man che ubbidisce all'intelletto.
The best of artists hardly can reflect
what yet a single marble block contains
within its girth, which labor he attains
but by the hand that heeds the intellect.
The best of artists hath no thought to show
Which the rough stone in its superfluous shell
Doth not include: to break the marble spell
Is all the hand that serves the brain can do.
Not even the best of artists has any conception
that a single marble block does not contain
within its excess, and *that* is only attained
by the hand that obeys the intellect.
A MOO is a MUD Object-Oriented. A MUD (Multi-User Dimensions) is a computer
program which applies the principles of shared memory to communications. For
the layman, a MOO is a place in cyberspace, which generally means on someone
else's computer, where one can interact with other people in real time. Basically
one types and reads and answers. Users telnet into the host computer. Telnet
is the Internetworking protocol that serves as a standard by means of which
the connected computers understand one another.
MOOs offer a high degree of programming flexibility, which lends itself
to a fascinating, though somewhat anarchistic, environment for social discourse
and dialogue. MOO was developped by Pavel Curtis and the Xerox Palo Alto Research
Center (Xerox PARC), where most of the concepts which define microcomputers
were invented. The first, oldest and biggest MOO is LambdaMOO (lambda.xerox.com
8888). There are now hundreds of MOOs and MUDs, each with different goals
and themes.
MOOers can also emote or do things, usually by typing ":". Some very foolish
controversy has arisen about various abuses of emoting. Let us be clear: MOOs
are a linguistic medium in which no one can do anything, except within the
framework of a given semiological structure. While the same could be said
of what MOOers misleadingly call rl (real life), our society generally draws
a line between verbal and physical violence, allowing the former, prohibiting
the latter.
The biggest misunderstanding of the cyberspace concerns the expression "vr"
or virtual reality. Nothing inherent to this medium in any way cuts it off
from everyday life. Some people have chosen to use the MOOs as a fantasyland,
as trite and tasteless as the local theme park. This mistake leads to endless
spam, the repetition of stereotyped words or actions mindlessly borrowed from
other contexts. The MOO's checkered past is behind us. Its present is often
exasperating. Its future is in our hands. Carpe diem.
RECTVM VINVM
Scott Alexander Gabriel Reiss
From: Murder
Date: 1 August 1996
Subject: New York...
Sorry it has taken me so long to write. My apologies also to Gabe, for missing
your birthday. I have been out of town for about a week and had to unsubscribe
from some of my mailing lists so that I wouldn't have so much damn mail when
I returned. Stiff Lips, what do you mean you can't come to NYC??? This seriously
puts a damper on things. I wish I had enough money to get you on a bus, etc.,
but I just don't. I'm pretty much broke. I have an interview for a serving
position at a Best Western in a couple days. I am in dire need of some buckage.
I had a very disturbing dream last night, no doubt induced by reading the
posts to this list. My dream was about the rlMOO, and that it was illegal
and strictly enforced, and that anyone caught having cybersex or whatever
would be locked up for good. I was aware of a computer lab in town that was
open only from 1:00 to 3:00 A.M. exclusively for the purpose of cybersex.
As luck would have it, I was not on more than 10 minutes when the door burst
open and the cops busted me. Premonition for the future?? God, I hope not.
Finally, we have a medium where it is okay to tell it like it is and they
want to take it away from us. Bastards. I miss you, too, Nic, and I feel like
no one around here understands me. While I do have to agree w/Terri that
my life is good compared to what I read on this list, this does not mean
that I do not suffer in my own way. Even some of my best friends have turned
against me, and my closest friend that I have here at school can't understand
me, does not know why I do the things I do, and thinks I'm schizophrenic,
or neurotic, or whatever the hell. The letters I write her are too much for
her, she says. The truth is, I'm lonlier than shit, and I am close to the
breaking point--the point where I cannot work, cannot concentrate, cannot
create. It tears me to shreds. I live a much different kind of hell than any
of you, but it is still hell to me. Nic, send me the copy of the duet and
I will see what I can do. If it is anything like our "Miniatures" I'm sure
it will be wonderful. In case you're wondering, Gabe, I do read each and
every letter that is sent to this list, but I just don't take the time to
respond, even when I disagree with someone and everything he/she stands for,
as is the case with Allset. I have never been able to understand the self-loathing
and complete disrespect for others shown in the abhorrent behavior of a cock-tease.
That is one of my prime pet-peeves about women, as Stiff Lips pointed out.
Murder
From: SAGReiss
Date: 1 August 1996
Subject: RL MOO
My friend Nichelle and I, together with a long list of our co-workers, hereby
invite each and every one of you to the Grand Opening of a new MOO, the Real
Life MOO, at one minute past midnight on Monday 5 August Eastern US time.
Characters may already be requested from ArchDeluxe but, in keeping with the
spirit of RL MOO, real names are in some form to be used and, in keeping with
our wish to stay out of jail, one must be twenty-one or older to participate.
For additional information, please see RL MOO's web pages.
RECTVM VINVM
Scott Alexander Gabriel Reiss
From: Terry
Date: 1 August 1996
Subject: Life
Hello again. Wow, two Emails from me in a single day.
I have to agree with Murder... my life isn't perfect, but I'm thankful I
have shit that I can at least deal with on a level that I can live with.
I, too, am lonely. Hard to imagine; for I'm always surrounded IRL and MOO
by many, many people/friends. It is possible to be alone and in a crowd at
the same time.
I see couples together on MOO all the time and I wonder why I can't seem
to hang on to one person on MOO... I'm constantly looking for a guy that is
stronger (not physically) than me. I know I have a strong, and sometimes geeky,
personality. But, surely there is one guy in the world that's able to handle
me on MOO????
I bury myself in work and enjoy it. I don't deserve to be raped. I don't
deserve to be spanked. I don't deserve to be pushed around. I do deserve to
be treated with respect and I even demand it, at times. (Ask Gabe for details
concerning the time he called me a FWB.)
I'm a great person. Heh. Fairly happy with myself and my life. I just like
to bitch at times.
Laterz and see you on MOO!
Teri
From: Murder
Date: 1 August 1996
Subject: Re: Life
Also my second message for the day. Geez, Gabe, did you ever expect two
messages each from two different people (besides yourself, of course) on
the SAME DAY???? I really liked Strawtop's post. I think Allset is a FWB
herself and I am not afraid to say it. Some people are so far removed from
reality that it scares me, even taking into account the fact that reality
is a highly subjective thing. At some point in our lives, we must get a grip.
I value very highly Stiff Lips' determination to face her life situations
head on. I have known her for (help me out here) seven years or so; determination
is one of her stronger suits. I have always sensed that she is torn between
resignation and sheer willpower, in which case willpower almost invariably
wins. She knows what is good for her and what is not. She takes responsibility
for her actions in a way few people could ever match up to, and she doesn't
shift blame as readily as many others I know. None of what I have just said
applies to Allset. True, Allset, we have never met and probably never will
(except maybe someday on the MOO), and I have not so much as even read your
conversations on the MOO much less know the details of your life story. But,
judging from your posts, you are weak. Very weak. I am a big fan of the existentialist
notion that we must take responsibility for our own actions, desires, and
fears. The moment we allow someone else to dictate how we feel we become a
puppet in someone else's sick little play. In short, we are dead. We are not
alive. To be alive means to take responsibility for ourselves, not to pine
away the hours wondering why we've never been raped. Stiff Lips does not
pine. She has integrity and honestly wants to share her experiences with others
and get her feelings out into the open. Allset pines. Allset wants attention.
Allset has no regard for the feelings of others. In this sense, Allset can
never live. Stiff Lips works toward resolution and chooses life; Allset resigns
and chooses death.
Murder
From: Terry
Date: 1 August 1996
Subject: Re: Murder
I think I wanna meet this guy. He actually talks normal.
Teri, ArchWizard
From: Nichelle
Date: 2 August 1996
Subject: 1, 4, 7...
I wanted to reply in some logical order, but my mind is reeling. First things
first. Murder, I will try to come to NYC. It all depends on my crazy work
situation. It is painful to me to imagine the two of us, in our simple, strange,
and perfect friendship, separated by thousands of miles and terrible loneliness.
Somehow you and I have survived. I read your letter three times, set it aside,
read it again just a moment ago. I *miss* you, and our adventures, and our
caterwauling around Helensberg. Have you become a man and I a woman since
we met, since I asked you (in the practice room, second lunch, 11th grade)
to be my boyfriend? I only wish I could be there with you, playing duets.
I don't know how anything on earth can be so chaste and pure as our friendship
is, while playing music so full of sweat and sex and passion. (C.P.E. Bach
excepted.)
Allset, I am stunned. You ask why you haven't ever been raped? It astounds
me that women talk about being raped like it is some trophy, or that something
is wrong with them if it hasn't happened, as if it was some kind of passage
into womanhood. And yet *your* impulse is to hold *me*? I'm not going to kill
myself. I don't need prozac. What I do need is a job, or full-time school.
No, I don't understand the leather belts, the candle wax, the pain, the shame,
the real-life dominatrix... I won't make the obvious remark about your Master's
degree. No, Allset. No medication, no pain, and no shame.
>I'm glad I'm on this Email list... I think I have problems until I read
it.
>I'm lucky. I'm sane.
What exactly can I say about this? Being lonely is not the same thing as
being crazy. Are you only here as a dazzling example of sanity? Are we not
all human? Tell me, Teri, in your monumental sanity, what plagues your most
horrible dreams, and what are your dark fantasies?
As for you, Gaby, I cannot leave your letter untouched. Your translation
is beautiful, and I've put it up as the description for the room called Michelangelo.
You do beautiful work under difficult circumstances, and the people who only
see 'cunt' and 'motherfucker' and 'FWB' are missing the point. I did not crucify
you in my letter. I have seen those bow-legged, pseudo-intellectual assholes
in the living room gang up on you, and I know it must get to you sometimes.
But not me, my love. You only make my life richer. I read and see and smell
and taste the world in a way I never could, and all because you are here,
showing me the beautiful things you know, one at a time.
What the hell, Strawtop? Rape is not about sex, it's about violence? You
bleed for me? Therapy? As for who I can tell it all to, what about the 750
strangers who have been to the web site? Sure I have nightmares about rape.
So...? Murder has nightmares about cybersex. Gaby has nighmares about being
chased by an army of 5'8", 110 lb, green-eyed, redheaded MOOers. We all have
them. I liked your comments about being "the most alluring 7 year old on the
block." I most certainly was.
Your letter, Teri, was a beautiful self-affirmation, but I wonder why you
feel the need to say you don't deserve to be spanked, or raped, that you deserve
to be treated with respect. None of us deserves to be raped, or spanked, or
beaten, or hurt. I've been searching for the letter in which Gabe mentions
your comment about a rape fantasy. If you could see the mess of papers, stacks
of books, our floor littered with sonnets and dictionaries and e-mail, you
would understand why I couldn't find it. But I'll not forget to mention that
you said it...
Murder, I'm flattered. I just got your new message. Just don't forget that
we've all got our motives...
From: Corinne
Date: 2 August 1996
Subject: merde
Je sais que j'ai jamais ecris...
et on a perdu to numero de tel.
ceci etant dit, on va se barrer de ce putain de trou, mais on sais pas ou
on va. et puis on est marries maintenant. on s;'en fout, mais on l'est.
et donc, on se fait une petite bouffe--ou une grosse.
(appelle ns avant le 7 aout)
trop saoule pour ecrire plus
corinne
From: Jenipher
Date: 2 August 1996
Subject: Hey Gabe
Translate that last mail for me, will you? I don't have my French dictionary
with me.
I see lambda is down, and you are up very early. Either that, or I just
got a mail that was sent sometime before you went to bed last night. I am
sure you can tell, but just in case, this mail is just to you.
I imagine I will never understand what is wrong with me, or why everyone
hates me so. I wasn't seeking attention. I thought I could use the listserv
to share my feelings and self-realizations. I don't let these things run my
life irl. As I have said, I am very strong. I stab people who try to hurt
me. Perhaps, in text, I am able to be vulnerable and seek attention. That
won't happen again. I will tell about how I run my life with the precision
of an army drill sergeant next week. How I keep my husband's world going while
he thinks of nothing but Physics and forgets to eat and sleep. How I had
to go home two months ago to talk my mothe out of killing herself, and how
I was successful. I am not weak. If I have given such a false impression,
I can't correct it now. I was just stupid to share. I don't know how my sharing
was any different than anyone else's, but there you have it.
Oh well, Colin knows the ugliest side of me, and he is still here. That's
all that matters.
Fuck this
Write me
From: Patricia
Date: 2 August 1996
Subject: RE: Two angels
Gabe - I liked the second translation the best (the one you did while on
the shitter? Is it better to be constipated or contemplative, but anyway..)
I have a friend who was raised in irt Italy if you'd like a literal translation,
but I think you've got the essence without question.
Stiff Lips - I hope that did not sound condescending. AllseT's mail angered
me (more than I showed, I controlled it) so much that the back lash was to
be protective of someone who actually had been victimized. So I apologise.
However, I think you are over-rationalizing the normalcy of your nightmares.
We all have nightmares, yes, but we don't generally shake in terror from them
and scream in our sleep. You have shared your story with the hundreds of
people who've hit the web page. Gabriel can tell you that until I read that
story I thought that he was just another stupid asshole spouting off in the
LR.
It showed me that you are a very strong woman - in your same situation,
I might well have retreated into some kind of catatonic seizure and spent
the rest of my life in some mental institution.
Teri - Yes, not everyone on this list is riddled with problems. We've met
on MOO before, btw, but I don't think you liked me very much so i won't tell
you when or where (yet).
Murder - welcome back, I enjoyed reading your mail.
c. - Je ne parle pas francais. 3 years of hs french taught me that
sentence. Oh well.
Strawtop
From: Jenipher
Date: 2 August 1996
Subject: Hmmm...
> She has integrity and honestly wants to share her experiences with
> others and get her feelings out into the open.
I have hesitated to reply for the last six hours, and I will try to make
this my only reply. That is -exactly- what I want to do, as well, Murder.
If you have misinterpreted my emails, or if I have erred somehow in my communications
to you, I can understand this mix-up. I just want you to know, I am not weak.
I opened myself up to you all, allowed you to know things about me I rarely
show anyone. I am not sure how that is seeking attention. Perhaps you can
clarify. You, or someone, anyone.
Maybe, in text, I allow myself to seem more vulnerable than I am. I acknowledge
and take full responsibility for that. The strangest line in your email was
> To be alive means to take responsibility for ourselves,...
and the further implication that I didn't do that. I make my decisions knowing
full well what the consequences will be. I have achieved an incredibly high
level of self-understanding. So maybe you need to try again, Murder, or perhaps
you could try not being so goddamned judgemental with regard to someone and
something about which you know practically nothing.
Allset
From: Nichelle
Date: 2 August 1996
Subject: %new activity on world g
My mother is one crazy bitch. She calls at 5 AM (Pacific time) to tell me
that since I haven't sent e-mail in a week, she's ready to call the Syracuse
Police and see if I'm OK. As I just said to Laurent, a lot of weirdness on
the listserv. What surprises me is, I've never seen Murder launch such a serious
attack against anyone in the seven years I've known him. I don't hate you,
Allset, and do remember that Gaby and I share an account. Neither of us receives
anything privately. I know he'll have a lot to say when he gets home, and
I'm tired out. Last night, my ex-boyfriend from the midwest came on the MOO
as a guest, and negatron chased him off. I spent all morning on the phone
with my mother, and I'm starting to wish I liked drinking a little better.
"No, I'm fine. No, don't call the police. It's *OK* mom. I just forgot to
send you e-mail. No, I'm *FINE*." A full hour of this, luckily on her bill.
I'm going to go now, and try to call the asshole who owes me a recommendation.
Doesn't he know that school starts in a month?
From: Murder
Date: 2 August 1996
Subject: Re: Hmmm...
Just got finished with my last final--three in one day. No wonder I wrote
such a crazy letter last night. Allset, you are very right in saying that
I have no right to judge someone or something I know nothing about. I have
admitted that I am going strictly on your previous posts--some dating back
several months. Yes, I also realize that you have gotten things out into the
open for all of us to see. That does require a certain amount of courage.
My point in all of this is simply that one must take responsibility for one's
own actions without claiming victimhood every time something backfires. Of
course no one deserves to be raped. That is a given. But I gather from your
posts (and I may very well be misinterpreting this, given my emotional state
the last few days) that you wish you had. Why? To prove you are worthy of
some sick man's violent conquest? Priorities... Stiff Lips herself can attest
to the fact that I have grown up in what many people consider an "ideal situation."
In fact, I think she once referred to one particularly traditional event as
"a classic, Leave-It-To-Beaver episode." But I still have my problems. Endlessly
jumping through hoops of the educational system, like many of you, just to
get a piece of paper that says I did my time. It is a very lonely process.
I am burnt out and am prone to depression. Still, I can choose my way out
of it. Some days I just don't have the strength. Other days I will fight
tooth and nail to make a difference. The times when I feel the best about
myself are the times I have forgotten myself in my quest to help others. This
is the only way we can truly make a difference in this lifetime--to make
a difference to someone else. Fur dich leben, fur dich sterben (sorry about
the missing umlauts). This is not about religious doctrine or anything like
that, it is about human decency, something which I find ever lacking in my
own self. Allset, my post was not directed at you as much as it was a vent
for my own insecurities (of which I have many), and it was in a moment of
weakness that I hit Ctrl X to send. I feel like I have no outlet to express
some of these feelings, but on the forum of this list maybe I will gradually
learn how, among other people who are gradually learning how...
Murder
From: SAGReiss
Date: 2 August 1996
Subject: Stalker
The fucking MOO isn't even open yet and we've already got a free-for-all
on our hands. Not only that, but one of Stiff Lips', um, admirers has already
made a cameo appearence. Happily, instead of finding his prey, he found a
mean dog called negatron who, I hope, was meaner than necessary to get rid
of the cunt. Let me try to begin by addressing the relatively few people on
this fucking listserv I'm not angry at. Comecabra, this is what's called blackmail.
Either you give me a text to put on the web pages or I'll post your lovely
little letter from yesterday. I'm not going to let the first member of the
World forsake this land of death without leaving me something for the site.
I hope we can get together. How about Sunday evening, before the MOO opens?
I'll call you tonight. Maybe it's just the tension of the Grand Opening,
but that was one weird and prolific day of e-mail. I don't know whom to insult
first. Allset, fuck this Dr Prosac shit. Stiff Lips needs a job, to go to
school and to play her fucking horn. None of this is my fault (I told her
right when she got here that I had a tendancy to swallow up women, that Calamity
Kate wrote on her mid-term evaluation of me, before we slept together, that
I should found a cult.) but neither does it drugs and/or therapy. Stiff Lips'
letter was not a plea for help. It was trolling for e-mail, and wildly successful
at that. ArchDeluxe, as John can tell you, I don't need to log text, I remember:
"I fantasize about rape. Sometimes I think I deserve to be raped." Enough
said. One of the few intelligent things I've ever heard in the Living Room
is: "A normal person is someone you don't know very well." I'm tired of people
telling me about their Tres Riches Jours. The Duc de Berry was probably bored
stiff with his fucking wife and mistresses and felt even more dead when he
held that stupid little commissioned book in his aristocratic little hand.
I'm probably in the best position of any of us to be called 'abnormal'. As
I told Allset this morning, I've been in jail and a psych ward, not once.
I have no family, no social life, no hobbies, a job totally unrelated to
my calling. In the future, if you want to attack 'abnormality' please pick
on someone your own size, and that means me. Murder, your letter was so mean-spirited
I have to quote it: "...even when I disagree with someone and everything
he/she stands for, as is the case with Allset. I have never been able to
understand the self-loathing and complete disrespect for others shown in
the abhorrent behavior of a cock-tease." Are you sure you really wanted to
say that? If not, I can put it down to the thoughtlessness which e-mail encourages,
which is one of the things I love about it. Had Comecabra thought before
she sent that letter with five spelling mistakes to a man who worships spelling
mistakes and is looking for a text from her, she might not have sent it.
And yes, Strawtop, I will post that letter without her consent if need be.
It's beautiful and no one is master of a text, neither author nor reader.
If you really meant to say that, I'll still try to excuse you because you
are so young. Allset, on the other hand, may not be so forgiving. She is
pissed. I don't understand the gratuitous nature and groundlessness of your
attack, which struck me as soon as I read the letter. I have said, in public,
that S&M is pathological. Allset did not quibble, but I have also said
that drinking as much as I do or eating as much as Stiff Lips must have is
also pathological. There are enough pathologies to go around. Nor am I preaching
tolerance. On the contrary, I have put: "La tolerance est la vertu des faibles"
in the private room called Sade. I'm simply amazed that you would lash out
at someone who is publically wrestling with her demons and writing some pretty
good letters. In case you hadn't noticed, this list is not exactly dedicated
to what I did on my summer holiday... Strawtop, you are wrong on all counts.
First, no rape is not about sex. Rape is sex. It is sexual behavior on the
less-consent, more-violence end of the spectrum. Further complicating matters
is the fact that no one with a brain believes in free will, which kind of
trashes the whole notion of consent. As disturbing as it may seem, the difference
between 'normal' sex and rape can be as slim as refusing to pay a whore or
scorning a woman the next morning. If consent was made under terms differently
understood by the two parties, then meaningful consent was never made. Back
to Murder. Your second letter I cannot simply toss off to the irresponsibility
of youth. That is just a crazy, savage letter. You also don't know shit about
existentialism. Try Kierkegaard and Heidigger. Existentialism is a philosophy
of the will. It's very clearly explained in The Sickness unto Death. Kierk
says we must have the will to wallow in despair, precisely the quality which
you mistakenly attribute to Allset. I have no idea what the fuck you mean
by: "Allset pines. Allset wants attention. Allset has no regard for others."
Doesn't the phrase "wastes and pines" ring a bell? I don't know what to say,
except please accept my apologies, Allset, for this dumb-stupid and totally
uncalled-for assault. I'm sorry it happened. I don't know why it happened.
Fuck, the whole thing started with what was a brazen and obvious (to me)
call for attention on the part of Stiff Lips. What's wrong with craving attention?
Who doesn't like to get e-mail? I hope, Allset, you won't allow the misunderstandings
of the Philistines stop you from helping us reach our goal of exploring our
lives in a literary medium. Strawtop, wrong again. Stiff Lips drew straws
out of a hat, or something a little less poetic, and mine is the first. I
shall briefly say why it is unquestionably the best. There are three problems
in translating this quatrain, the meaning of "concetto", the rhyme with "intelletto"
and the loose syntax linking the subordinate clause to the main clause. The
second translation simply ignores the third problem, making two independant
clauses, which is no solution at all. The third translation tries to solve
the problem with italics, which is a vulgar faute de gout. The first translation
rather elegantly uses a relative also as a determiner. However it is the
first two problems which prove my translation's superiority. A conceit is
what made John Donne rich and famous. For more on this matter see T.S. Eliot's
brilliant article "The Metaphysical Poets". It is usually an extended metaphore
of unusual complexity and difficulty. Instead of trying to find a translation,
I have made my own conceit, for the verb reflect means both 'to think', which
makes the rhyme with "intellect" all the richer semantically, and 'to represent'
artistically, which alludes to the theme of mimesis so present in the meaning
of the poem. Shiiit, "show" and "do" is poorer both phonetically and rhetorically.
Murder (and I'll stop soon) you just keep putting your foot in your mouth:
"your previous posts--some dating back several months"? She's only been on
the list for four weeks.... Enough of this bullshit. I'd like to thank each
and every one of you for your extraordinary participation these last two days.
It almost rekindles my lost hope in mankind. I hope we can all get together
in a more informal context Sunday night. Vale.
RECTVM VINVM
Scott Alexander Gabriel Reiss
From: Terry
Date: 2 August 1996
Subject: Re: Stalker
Ok, just to clear something up... the night I made the comment about *deserving
to be raped* and fantasizing about it... I was sooooooooo drunk I wasn't even
rational, much less believable.
So, for the record, I don't deserve to be raped. And don't believe everything
a person says on MOO when drunk. :)
As for meeting Sunday concerning RLMOO, I can do Sunday afternoon... not
evening. Unless it's after 10 pm CST. :)
Laterz,
Teri
From: Murder
Date: 3 August 1996
Subject: Countdown
I didn't know quite what to make of Gabe's letter from yesterday. What exactly
is your definition of "free will?" Do you mean that neither society nor the
individual has free will? I just want to make sure that I am understanding
you correctly before I jump all over your opinions of this. What you said
about my "crazy, savage letter" was pretty accurate, and it would be easy
to attribute it to the six-pack I had downed in 45 minutes (and I'm a lightweight)
before I wrote the letter from a friend's 'puter. But I take full responsibility
for my oversights, even the stupid ones such as my attribution of Allset's
posts "from the last several months" which was obviously a result of temporal
perceptions gone awry. However, I must disagree with Gabe's assertion that
I "don't know shit about existentialism." I have read Kierkegaard, as well
as Sartre', Jaspers, Marcel (since I was Catholic for a long time)... oh,
who cares. Your claim (I'm paraphrasing...I printed a copy of the letter,
deleted it, the lost the copy) that wallowing in self-pity is at the heart
of existentialism is entirely too pessimistic and inaccurate. Kierkegaard,
et al claim that we must face this despair and anguish (which Kierk refers
to as "the sickness"), but that out of this arises Being. Existence before
essence is the way I have always understood it. What I was referring to in
the part about taking responsibility for ourselves was the Sartrian notion
that man is what he makes himself. When he chooses for himself he also chooses
for all, which (maybe only very indirectly) affects all. I acknowledge that
Kierkegaard is regarded as the first existentialist, hence your undue bias
toward him? This bias is the same as my saying that since Beethoven is acknowledged
as the first Romantic composer, he is the only true Romantic and all the rest
of the fine composers of the Nineteenth and early Twentieth centuries were
not. Anyway, as with any philosophy, existentialism is much more complicated
at its highest levels (notice how coyly I avoid the word "essence") than what
we could ever represent in words. Also, like any other philosophy, we can
all agree on what it denies but are much less clear on what it affirms. So,
having said all that, I will not comment further on my previous letter. On
a much more positive note: congratulations to Gabe, Stiff Lips, et al for
all their hard work on the MOO. For you, Gabe, this must be a particularly
exciting moment, for your dream has come to fruition.
Murder
From: Nichelle
Date: 5 August 1996
Subject: smart, orally-fixated, clarinet-playing diplomat
I can't sleep. Allset, I was thinking about you tonight at dinner while
Gaby, Corinne, and Keith spoke French and I couldn't understand a word. You
must feel very isolated. Don't let this recent outburst keep you from writing.
It is easy to forget on the 'net that you are dealing with real people. It
is also easy to forget, with such a big bdsm community on the internet, that
it isn't as common as we might think...
Name calling is bound to happen. I had to remind Gabriel several times tonight
not to bad-mouth the incoming guests on RL MOO. Sometimes we fail to make
the connection between the words on the screen and the person typing them.
We're not all equally willing (or capable) to accept the concept of being
tied up and whipped.
Please don't stop writing, Allset. You and I may not agree about bdsm, but
that doesn't mean we can't talk about it. Maybe we'll both get something out
of our conversation. I know that you are not weak. As Gaby reminded me the
other day, we're all at war with ourselves. And sometimes we will be at war
with each other. But let's not do it through name calling. I have admitted
that I misjudged you. Perhaps a few others may decide that someday too. Now
I'm going to try to sleep. Take care, and I will see you all on our new MOO.
-Stiff Lips
From: SAGReiss
Date: 5 August 1996
Subject: Sesame, ouvre-toi
To those of you who were with us last night I send my thanks. To those of
you who couldn't make it I extend our invitation. I thought it went well.
Even the glare of sobriety and the cold black on white of a printed log don't
obscure the spamless, occasionally witty debut of RL MOO. I'm so glad that
Corinne and Jeff were there. If you are reading this, I cannot express my
thanks to you two. For those of you who don't know, Corinne and Jeff are my
best friends irl, they who helped my drunken, staggering, angry self through
a year of hell at a famous university, who have now read about two thousand
pages of my peculiar brand of madness. They are the only original members
of this list. Stiff Lips came five days later, negatron soon afterwards. All
in all I think it went well. I was hoping for a few more people, but that
will come. I ask each of you to please use a split screen to idle in RL MOO
while elsemoo so that guests will not come on to an empty place. Please feel
free to give out the address to whomever you want. It's a public place. Everyone
is welcome. By the same token I have received a MOOmail from someone who
wanted to join the list. Some of the words disturbed me. This is NOT my place.
Neither is it exactly public. This is the inner circle of the network which
includes a middle circle (the web pages) and an outer circle (the MOO). Some
discretion must be used because some people are not comfortable with other
people knowing their e-mail address. Nevertheless, each of you is free to
add friends, keeping this necessary discretion in mind. While the World must
stay a place where we can write about ourselves and our lives with confidence,
I trust each of you to use your judgement. Murder, I don't think your Beethoven
analogy is pertinent. Neither do I have a Kierkegaard komplex. I like Heidigger
too. Sartre is one of those half-breeds who can do neither philosophy nor
literature. You say something very stupid about our not being able to express
the more complex issues of existentialism in words. How would you suggest
philosophy be expressed, in pictures? Colin, when oh when are you going to
send me the MTV version of your battles with that crazy bitch onna MOO? If
she is who I think she is, she is a vr nightmare. I hate that cunt. I guess
my new nickname is Ahab, which could be worse. Will someone please think up
a very demeaning little handle for negatron? I hate to have to do all the
work. I won't write more now. I'm too excited about going back to our fucking
MOO. Vale
RECTVM VINVM
Scott Alexander Gabriel Reiss
From: Terry
Date: 6 August 1996
Subject: Introducing...
I'd like to introduce the newest guy in my life. His name is Contraire.
He's a handsome guy; and strong too. He's controlling, by nature (which I
count as a quality in men). He dictates to me what I will do and when I will
do it... and how, at times. He has a mind of his own and usually won't listen
to me. I love this guy, though. He's loaded. He seems to know just how far
he can push me; he has an inner sense of my frustrational level (as far as
he is concerned). He stays beside me as long as I want him to. He doesn't
argue. He entertains me. He will even do my work for me. So, who is this great
guy?
My new computer. :)
Yes, he's male. Yes, I named him. Contraire. The name should say it all.
I finally broke down and bought the components for what I've been wanting
for a really long time. Here it is: Pentium 133, 1.2 gig HD (to run Linux),
1.6 gig HD (Win 95), 8X CD ROM, 33.6 fax/modem, 32 megs RAM, 2 meg video card,
1.44 HD floppy, etc.
Contraire and I are very happy... we work well together. He most usually
gets his way, though (just like Gabe). :)
Teri
From: SAGReiss
Date: 6 August 1996
Subject: I want to blow you
The room service guy came in still drunk from the night before. He kept
mumbling this dumb-ass country and western song. My ears perked up when I
heard the words: "angry johnny". I asked him about it, but he wasn't coherent
enough to give me an answer. I'm not too coherent now either. I got beat
up at work. I seem to have found a berkeleyesque strategy, however. Since
one of the stupid-shit wench bosses said I've made improvements, all the
bosses are very happy with me. My image seems to have changed from that of
a rude slacker to that of an enthousiastic team player in a matter of days,
with no change of behavior on my part. Esse IS percipi. It has come to my
attention that some of you may have been thinking I've got some horrible
mark of Cain on my forehead, but were too polite and New-Age PC to mention
it. The simple answer is that I got much, much too drunk a few days before
the photograph was taken and fell down a flight of stairs. Those are cuts
on my head, not physical evidence of moral corruption. I'd like to introduce
a new member, who threatens to outwrite me, as many have done before. I have
yet to meet the (wo)man who has my literary stamina, though history is full
of examples. If you look at the correspondance of Horace Walpole or Voltaire
or the Memoires de Saint-Simon, you'll see that those motherfuckers wrote
a hell of a lot. Anyway I can't tell you much about Opal. Allset can probably
introduce her more fully or she can do it herself...
RECTVM VINVM
Scott Alexander Gabriel Reiss
From: Nichelle
Date: 6 August 1996
Subject: angry johnny goes West
It was a strange evening, which started with me creating a crisis, and ended
with Gabriel waking from his sleep, sitting up on the edge of the bed for
perhaps the tenth time, and saying 'I have two loves. Where is my other love?'.
It was a difficult evening, full of tears and whisky, but we could have done
worse. Who knows, life may get more crazy in a good way very soon. I'll get
to see Murder in NYC, and perhaps my composer friend, Stefan. I'm tired, but
it's too hot to sleep. It's hard sometimes, but I'm happy I have come here
to live with my love...
From: Jenipher
Date: 7 August 1996
Subject: Re: angry johnny goes West
I am quite sure Opal can speak for herself in introduction, should she so
choose to. To her, I offer my welcome to the World, as I have offered her
myself.
Murder, I am sorry I jumped down your throat last week. I was incensed at
your email. I feel better now, all soft and gooey inside after a lovely breakfast
of orange juice and Extra! cereal. Cereals in France pretty much suck. They
have at least five varieties of chocolate flavored cereals. I don't mean like
Cocoa Puffs. I mean flavored with dark chocolate. It is like eating a Lindt
bar with 70% cocoa solids. Or I can choose French muesli, which is horribly
grainy and disgusting to one used to that faux-American-brand-of-muesli, Mueslix.
(Is it Mueslix or Meuslix? I hate word blocks.)
I haven't logged onto RL MOO much. I am not sure why, unless it is because
I can't cyberfuck for at least the next month, and I am not quite sure what
else there is to do there. Gabe, you say we shouldn't think of it as CybersexMOO,
but then I see you idle there and chattering away on lambda. Is it because
no one fuckable has approached you on your MOO? Maybe we should try mindfucking
instead. It is great fun. I'll meet you in Sade at 4 p.m. your time, and we
will see who cries first.
Seashell, I loved your line about tears and whisky. I used it in my plea
for description suggestions in Sensual Respites. I notice, though, that your
style of writing seems more similar to Gabe's every day. Have you reached
some perfect symbiosis in which thoughts and styles are efficiently shared?
Allset
From: Jenipher
Date: 7 August 1996
Subject: Love
SAGReiss [to Tesla]: I've got to go back to work. Would you please e-mail
Stiff Lips and tell her I love her?
This was just a second ago, on lambda.
Hope you are doing well. Gabe loves you. :-)
Jeni
From: Nichelle
Date: 7 August 1996
Subject: quick note
I had strange dreams all night about Gabriel speaking French with my old
contemporary music instructor while I folded enormous blankets. I won't even
try to analyze. I'm going to shower, catch the bus to Wegman's, bring home
the groceries, and then go up to the library to watch a movie at about 4 PM,
EST. I'll be home in time to make won ton soup for dinner. The lady at LeMoyne
was in a meeting. I've got to go. It's hot here.
From: Terry
Date: 7 August 1996
Subject: Re: angry johnny goes West
On Wed, 7 Aug 1996, Jenipher wrote:
> I haven't logged onto RL MOO much. I am not sure why, unless it is
> because I can't cyberfuck for at least the next month, and I am not
quite
> sure what else there is to do there. Gabe, you say we shouldn't think
of
> it as CybersexMOO, but then I see you idle there and chattering away
on
> lambda. Is it because no one fuckable has approached you on your MOO?
> Maybe we should try mindfucking instead. It is great fun. I'll meet
you
> in Sade at 4 p.m. your time, and we will see who cries first.
Geez... I didn't know whether to laugh or to cry when I read this. Helllllllllooooooooooooo???
My educated mind cannot even grasp the idea of MOOing only for cybersex. RLMOO
IS NOT SEXMOO. Next time you log on, read: help theme
I haven't spent hours and hours working on RLMOO to have it become FuckMOO.
Shit, there's more to MOOlife than online sex. If couples choose to engage
in cybersex on RLMOO, that's their business; I know it's on every other MOO...
why would we expect to be exempt? BUT, I want to make it perfectly clear,
as ArchDeluxe (heh), that the purpose/objective/goal of RLMOO is NOT to give
players a place to typo-fuck. Read the help files there. :)
Feeling better now that I got that off my chest,
Teri
From: Murder
Date: 8 August 1996
Subject: Re: quick note
Your contemporary music instructor meaning Kendall?
Murder
From: SAGReiss
Date: 8 August 1996
Subject: (no subject)
Six to eight people were on the MOO this afternoon. The AntiSexMOO is going
to work, maybe even flourish. One day we shall all be rich and famous. In
honor of angry johnny's new status (and because none of you has thought up
a nickname) I have decided we can call him FratBoy. Thank you ever so much,
Patricia/Werner for redeeming me in the eyes of my very sceptical peers. Yes,
my drunken delerium quotes Shakes: "Two loves have I". Yes, my little friends,
I'm not brain dead yet. I think we must let that boy create a room on RL.
To do otherwise would be to discourage him and to say: "This is our MOO not
yours." It must belong to all of its members. This may in the future create
tension: "How come he can create the Nietzsche room, but I can't create the
Miss_Bunny_FOO_FOO_Rumpus_Room?" Well just have to evaluate proposals on
an ad hoc basis. I kind of like Nichelle's restrictions. I would like to
avoid a place where everyone is in his own private space paging slanderous
lies about the wizzen to his friends. So far the public space is working well.
Most of the people from Lambda have understood that this is not the place
for idiotspam. Nichelle tells me someone tried last night and was ignored
and left. That's nice, unless I'm feeling a little combatative... Just to
show that I too can write a dumbshit spammy neo-Anne Rice description as well
as the next man, here then is my official entry in the Sensual Respites contest:
1776, Lacoste, the chateau of Donatien Aldonze Francois (Louis), Comte de
Sade a.k.a. Marquis. The seeds of revolution have been sown. The peasants
are angry in the fields. The merchants are angry in the shops. The bishops
are angry in the cathedrals. The aristocrats are angry in their castles. Across
the Atlantic a fight over taxes is quickly becoming a war over sovereignty
fraught with hangings for treason and heady talk of freedom and democracy.
Behind the stone walls of Lacoste the host, his wife, Renee-Pelagie, nee de
Montreuil, and a dozen young domestics perform plays to entertain the guests.
After dark the theatre takes place in the servants' quarters or the master's
apartment. These midnight improvisations are the subject of rumour in and
around the village. In Paris there is still talk of the sacrilege of Easter
1768. In Aix-en-Provence a death sentence for sodomy is under appeal. In
Lyon parents strive to recover their sons and daughters indentured to the
lord of Lacoste. You are asleep in the dormitory. A key unlocks the door.
In walks a small man with blond curls and blue eyes. His faithful valet de
chambre, Carteron a.k.a. La Jeunesse, follows...
RECTVM VINVM
Scott Alexander Gabriel Reiss
From: Nichelle
Date: 10 August 1996
Subject: alt.sex.pictures.female.cheerleaders
Colin, you've done yourself in. I just asked him on the moo if he really
keeps abreast of these nudegroups. I'm trying to get him mad so he'll write
me hate-mail. I forgot that it's Saturday and the buses are all screwed up.
I'm going to Wegman's again, not Price Chopper, because at least it's big
enough to keep me entertained until the bus. I know I don't have to go, Gaby,
but I'm bored anyway, and you say you've been craving penis butter for a week
and a half.
My father and stepmother are going to be here in a few days. I feel sorry
enough for myself, but... poor Gabriel. My father has worked for the Boy Scouts
for about 25 years. He sends me badges and things when he writes letters.
I find it deeply disturbing.
Murder, where's the information on the conference? Get off your lazy butt
and send it to me. How am I supposed to come visit you if you're not going
to tell me where you are? I'm excited, though I imagine your little conference
swarming with tall, wispy blonde girls. They'll probably just play a bunch
of sickening French music anyway. The only good French piece is Debussy's
Premiere Rapsodie. Everything else is shit. The only thing that comes close
for me is his Saxophone Rapsodie, and only because it's got a good story behind
it. Even snotty frenchmen didn't want to write for the saxophone. After three
years of procrastinating, I guess the dreaded Saxophone Lady finally clubbed
Debussy over the head with her tenor until he consented to finish. It gives
me giggles every time I think about it.
I'm off. I choked on my banana bread this morning. No bueno. Strawtop, when
are you going to get your friend on this list?
-Stiff Lips
From: Nichelle
Date: 10 August 1996
Subject: tenor
I know. Alto. So sue me.
From: Nichelle
Date: 11 August 1996
Subject: The Flute In Poland
Murder, I will try to be kind, but a few things cannot go without comment.
What on earth is flocalizing? (For those of you who do not know what is going
on, Murder sent me the schedule for the National Flute Association's annual
(?) conference, which is in NYC this year, where I will join him in less than
a week.) Also, with a little more planning, Dr. Mitchell could have placed
his session on "Understanding and Preventing Ear Damage" after the Piccolo
Artist Competition. No, scratch that. Switch those two. And "Tips For Amateurs"?
I could just sum it all up in one sentence: switch to clarinet before it
is too late.
I haven't got the energy to tackle the rest of the conference program. I
think I've got an ulcer. Before I go to bed, I shall briefly introduce the
newest member of this list, though I hope he will introduce himself to you
also. If you have been to RL MOO (and curse you if you haven't) you may have
already met WernerH. He's the friend I asked Strawtop to recruit in my latest
letter. This means there is one more person here who can write in languages
I don't understand. Maybe Strawtop can tell you more, or perhaps WernerH will...
One more thing. Start thinking about a music bibliography, Murder. I think
Werner will help us. I don't know if Quodlibet is reading these letters, but
she is certainly welcome to join. (Have you moved yet? Do you miss me?) And
of course the rest of you, though I warn you... I'm talking about *real* music.
None of this Yanni shit my grandmother listens to.
-Stiff Lips
From: Johanne
Date: 11 August 1996
Subject: Re: The Flute In Poland
> One more thing. Start thinking about a music bibliography, Murder.
I think
> Werner will help us. I don't know if Quodlibet is reading these letters,
but
> she is certainly welcome to join.
It happens that I read this one, hoping for musicological mudslinging of
some variety. I take it this is a "suggested listening" list that is being
proposed?
If so, I immediately suggest the inclusion of:
F. Schubert String Quartet in d minor, D. 810
"Der Tod und das Maedchen"
A. Berg Fuenf Orchesterlieder nach Ansichtskartentexten
von Peter Altenberg, Op. 4
M. Ravel Chansons madecasses
G. Crumb Black Angels: Thirteen Images from the Dark Land
for electric string quartet
T. Tallis Spem in allium
I imagine I shall think of numerous others, but these, for various reasons,
strike me as not only important in terms of the can(n)on, loose as it is in
my world, but important for their sheer devastating beauty.
> (Have you moved yet?
Yes.
> Do you miss me?
Answer your own question, darlin'. I'm responding to your note. Ought to
tell you something.
Quodlibet
From: Werner
Date: 11 August 1996
Subject: Eigenschaften
Hello Listserfs,
after hours of lost sleep spent over the dilemma of how to introduce myself,
here is the punchline:
Ich bin ein Mann ohne Eigenschaften
(better known to comics readers as "an invisible man", but I prefer Musil).
However, let me contribute something, lest you mistake me for your average
hot air balloon.
1. Bach's violin Partita in D minor, BWV 1004
2. Schubert's "Jaegers Abendlied" D 368
3. Schoenberg's "Verklaerte Nacht"
4. Webern's "Drei kleine Stuecke" op. 11 for cello and piano
5. Stravinski's "Elegie" for viola solo
6. Shostakovich's string quartet no. 15 in E-flat Minor, op. 144
And many more works I could add, but I already suggested one more than Quodlibet
did (by the way, I rushed to the store to buy the beautiful "Spem in Alium",
convinced that it couldn't be about the garlic smell of "allium"). [[Will
StrawTop still talk to me after this bad latin joke?]]
Now, let us all hope that there is no ulcer in Motive.
Werner
From: SAGReiss
Date: 11 August 1996
Subject: Matilda and Mr Peterson
negatron complained so bitterly about the nickname FratBoy that I have come
up with a new one, Queequeg. This fits the Moby's Dick theme linking Ahab's
mutineys to 12000 Virgins. Actually I wanted to use the name of the cabin
boy who is gang-ass-raped, but I can't remember it. Whenever I mention this
chapter, in which the story is told through song and a complex series of puns,
people look at me as if I've been making too-liberal use of the Ricard bottle.
I am quite sober. This is my first beer and it's noon and I've just got off
work. There IS a homosexual gang-rape in Melville's monsterpiece. Read it
carefully or just buy the Penguin Classics edition and RTFN (Read The Fucking
Notes). Anyway I propose Queequeg and I win the contest by default, since
I am the only participant as yet. Besides, if negatron isn't losing his hair
yet, just wait till those FWCo-eds and Nazi-feminists teaching women's studies
get a hold of him. This fall is going to be fun. See negatron writhe in pain
as he has to write essays on gender constructions in post-anal fiction. Mr
Peterson is our new neighbor, a squirrel who lives across from out kitchen
window whom Stiff Lips has adopted. Well, she gave him a name. He doesn't
do many interesting domestic things. We have yet to watch him mate. What do
you want from a red-headed rat with a furry tail? Matilda, whose name I'm
sure Colin will appreciate, is the kitten I've asked permission from our
landlord to take in. I believe I am witnessing something I won't call Mutiney
IV, but rather a schism. Three ostensibly unrelated events lead me to this
conclusion. In a kind of comic blunder Werner fucked up his password and
gave a wrong e-mail address or some combination of the two. This mistake will
be rectified (no pun intended). Allset has told Stiff Lips that she continues
to talk to the rapist from the MOO. I'm not sure why she shared this information,
which could not but inspire fear and worry in a woman upon whom boredom and
lonliness already prey. We have thought and talked about Allset's motives
(no pun intended), some of which speculation was rather ugly. The more printable
theories suggest the thrill of sexual violence and danger within the relatively
harmless environment of the MOO. (As we know, Strawtop, rape is just sex
without the usual element of consent, however we may understand that term.)
There is no solution to this dilemma, except the rather drastic one of toading
Allset from the World and gagging/refusing her. I have neither the wish nor
the power to determine or even verify with whom she chooses to spend her
time. Her desire to be desired (which I have compared to "the robber's knowledge
of the loser's knowledge of the robber" in Poe's Purloined Letter), even
her craving for sexual pain, is no weirder or more sick than my otherworldly
thirst for whisky. I can't think of anything shrewd or witty to say here.
I guess my behavior will be based on how upset Allset makes Stiff Lips. I
am not long going to brook the pain that the possibility of an indiscretion
provokes in the woman I live with, however unlikely such a mishap may be.
Serious concern about e-mail addresses has again been voiced and this time
I'm inclined to do something about it. What I am asked to execute is essentially
a coup d'etat. If I'm going to protect your e-mail addresses, a request of
especial concern as the World grows, what I'll have to do is create a formal,
moderated listserv, meaning that everything passes through my 'puter and,
contrary to my plan, I control who can post what. That I would exert this
power as little as possible doesn't negate the fact that it would be mine.
I'll ask my Technical Director to investigate the software possibilities.
If it's within my means to do so, I s'pose I shall. If it's very expensive,
we could put it to a vote and share the burden if the ayes win.
RECTVM VINVM
Scott Alexander Gabriel Reiss
From: Jenipher
Date: 11 August 1996
Subject: (no subject)
There I sat, pen in hand, doodling as I mooed. Gabe paged me and mentioned
he had emailed the World. I waited a while to check it, but then I did. Unfortunate
for me, as I had just eaten chocolate cake, made with vinegar and no eggs.
Iced with Pulain chocolate, 55% cocoa solids. Now my stomach is tense and
hard around chocolate that is fending off acid-attacks.
Gabe wrote:
I am not sure why she shared this information,...
Because Seashell asked me, directly, if I was still in contact with her
rapist. After responding that I was, I then explained why. Perhaps, as Colin
has noted many times, I rushed out to do battle by myself, without checking
my supply lines. I don't actually talk to the rapist, nor had I, until yesterday,
cut off all communication. My brilliant rationale for this was that I didn't
want him to guess Seashell had told the story of her rape for anyone to read
on the web page. I just didn't ever want him to put two and two together.
Since I was also sure I couldn't hide my hostility towards him, I rarely responded
to his pages; if I did, it was with nothing more than the most cursory greeting
and an excuse to avoid further conversation.
Fuck you, Gabe, for attributing such strained motives to my maintaining
contact with him. I like bdsm. BDSM is consensual play, often involving pain.
It is not rape, nor can rape ever be called bdsm, D/s, s&m, whatever.
I like danger, certainly, within reasonable bounds. Consorting with a known
rapist is not within reasonable bounds, in my opinion. Seashell disbelieved
me when I told her this, asked if the danger really held no appeal for me.
I can honestly answer, NO. Being raped holds no appeal for me. Negotiating
and engaging in a rape scene with my Dom, on the other hand, holds an enormous
amount of appeal for me. I will wait and see if any of you can discern a difference
in those two statements.
Allset
From: Terry
Date: 11 August 1996
Subject: Hm...
Sometimes I feel as though you people live lives that are completely foreign
to me.
On those occasions, I feel very out-of-place on this mailing list.
Doesn't anyone else share my feelings? Or am I all alone on this tangent
of mine?
Well, good thing I'm a confident person.
Teri
From: Nichelle
Date: 11 August 1996
Subject: Mutiney IV
This is Gabriel's title, not mine. We have been fighting about the future
of this listserv. We're both pissed right now. I have just done some research.
Let's get our definitions straight. A moderator on a listserv is a person
who manages the list and who sometimes guides the conversation. From the information
I have seen, all formal listservs seem to operate the same way: all e-mail
is distributed to everyone who is subscribed to the list. Then it seems,
Gaby, that you have misunderstood the term 'moderated listserv', unless any
of you can offer more information. There are many kinds of listservs, some
of which allow just anyone to subscribe, and others which require permission.
In a 'closed list', the list owner has the ability to add people as s/he wishes.
You may be wondering what the fuck this is all about. There has been a lot
of concern about privacy lately. What Gabriel was suggesting may not be what
you thought he meant by a moderated listserv. He meant that the addresses
of the list members would be available only to him, and that everything sent
to the list would pass through his computer before it could reach your screen.
This means that no member of this listserv would be able to add members without
submitting a request to do so to Gabriel. (As far as I can remember, I am
the only one who has added a person without asking anyway, but...) This means
that no member of this listserv could write a letter to the other members
that would be automatically sent out, as it is now.
I don't think that Gabriel would censor the letters written to this list.
But I do not think that this is the solution to our privacy problem. He could
have set this list up in the very beginning so that no member of the list
could send to anyone but him. He chose not to. That is more or less why I
have participated. I *did* add somebody to this list. I *have* communicated
with other members of this list privately. This is not just Gabriel's list.
As it stands, we each have the same amount of power on this listserv. If that
changes, I have no further interest in it.
There are other solutions to this problem. I have suggested to Gabriel the
possibility of making use of anonymous e-mail services, some of which (I believe)
are free. He tells me that the rest of you are all too fucking lazy to lift
a finger to do such a thing. I see this as a reasonable solution. I think
that if you are really that concerned about people knowing who you are, you
will bother to do it. Correct me if I'm wrong, if you're not too fucking
lazy to do even that. I do not find his solution acceptable. I am open to
other suggestions. I expect to hear them. I am willing to do the research
necessary to find the software, the anonymous services, or whatever we need.
I am not willing to set up Gabriel's definition of a moderated listserv. That
will mean the death of this list.
There's no such thing as paranoia.
RECTVM VINVM.
Fuck you.
-Stiff Lips
From: Murder
Date: 11 August 1996
Subject: Re: The Flute In Poland
Flocalizing, since you asked, is someone's cutesy term for singing and playing
the flute at the same time, a popular technique in avant-garde music. It is
also useful as a tone development exercise. I tried it for a period of about
a month this last year, with only minimal success, and now I only return to
it when I am really out of shape or desperate to get a decent sound on a
bad day. One of my peers here at school absolutely swears by this technique,
however. I have noticed an appreciable difference in her sound since she began
the use of this exercise, but I do not know if it was due entirely to that.
As for your other comments, I will not care to respond to them until we meet
IRL next week. On to more important things: first, I am compiling my own
addition to the bibliography, which I will share with Stiff Lips at our aforementioned
meeting. The ones that have been suggested are good ones indeed, and I have
not heard every one of those pieces. But the ones that I have heard I think
will be a good contribution. One thing though: what are the limits of this
bibliography? What will be the format? A written description of each piece?
This bib will ostensibly present much different problems than the literary
bib that Gabe has put on the homepage. Second: I messed up on the date of
my arrival in NYC, which will be Wednesday. So I will call you Wednesday
night instead of Tuesday, Stiff Lips. When we meet on Friday, bring some
cheap manuscript paper if you can. I will scrape the bottoms of my desk drawers
for some as well. Third: I have to agree with Stiff Lips in the discussion
about this list going to a Listserv format. It would destroy the list. Gabe,
you must remember your original intentions for creating this list, as well
as the reasons for *not* going to Listserv. I think that you did the right
thing in the beginning. I understand your concerns about the expansion of
this list, as well as the pressure you are feeling from the other members
concerning privacy. But Stiff Lips is right on when she says that the individual
members must take responsibility for the concealment of their addresses (if
such a service does indeed exist--I have never heard of it). If it does go
to Listserv, I will be greatly disappointed, and I too will severely limit,
if not curtail completely, my participation on this list (not that that would
upset you greatly, Gabe). It all depends on what restrictions on the number
of members which you wish to enforce. I personally like the format of this
list as is, and I like to know who specifically I am sending e-mail to. It
is much more like RL than a Listserv. Now that I have said my two cents, I
am off to run 6 miles and then pack for the trip.
Murder
From: Jenipher
Date: 12 August 1996
Subject: Re: Mutiney IV
There is an anonymous email server at pobox.com. To request an anonymous
email address, go to http://www.pobox.com/p3/ on the web. The first three
months are free. After that it costs $15 US a year. It doesn't take long to
register, and you should be able to use your anon address relatively quickly.
As of this time, I use mine for posts to the usenet. I continue to see no
genuine need to use it for this listserv.
I hope this helps, for those of you worried about privacy issues.
Teri, some days, I feel just like you. When I go home, make my husband dinner,
sit down with him to watch tv, have gentle, married sex. When I wake up, wonder
what I am doing here, why I am in a marriage with my best friend, whom I
love but with whom I am not in love. Most of your emails strike a chord within
me, that chord that recalls my Mother and other married couples I know who
have never considered open marriages or anything besides raising a family
and living happily ever after.
Allset
From: Werner
Date: 12 August 1996
Subject: Re: Mutiney IV
On Mon, 12 Aug 1996, Jenipher wrote:
> There is an anonymous email server at pobox.com. To request an anonymous
> email address, go to http://www.pobox.com/p3/ on the web. The first
three
> months are free. After that it costs $15 US a year. It doesn't take
long
> to register, and you should be able to use your anon address relatively
> quickly. As of this time, I use mine for posts to the usenet. I continue
> to see no genuine need to use it for this listserv.
>
> I hope this helps, for those of you worried about privacy issues.
Well, no, it does not help too much, and if you (Allset) are using this
pobox service to enjoy anonymity on usenet, think twice. Here is an excerpt
from their FAQ (see URL above):
>Is it an anonymous remailer?
>
>No. Plenty of anonymous remailers exist; we're not one of them. One
of
>the conditions of pobox membership is that you must be
>locatable through every means possible. This is for your protection,
and
>for ours. We support free speech. We also support
>accountability. When you use your pobox aliases, please don't pretend
to
>be someone else. Anyone could finger you at pobox and
>trace your real account. Also, we will supply your real name to anyone
>who asks for it. If you're looking for an untraceable
>pseudonym, we're sorry, but we can't do it.
pobox.com's "mission" seems to be focused on forwarding issues, not on privacy.
W
From: SAGReiss
Date: 12 August 1996
Subject: Boyz n the list
"Bobby, I'm just gonna get the fuck out of here and go home and pick a fight."
"Do what ya gotta do." The restaurant business is so mean that no one thinks
that kind of shit is weird. I meant pick a fight with Stiff Lips, but I guess
I managed to get everyone involved. What the fuck am I s'posed to do? Some
of you want me to forward every fucking message individually to a dozen people.
Think again. Some of you want a formal list. Some think everthing's fine and
nice and good. For the moment I'm not going to do anything. Anyone who wants
to change to an anonymous account is welcome to do so. I don't know anything
about them, except that's what people use to send me hate mail. Murder, you
bastard, this is not some power play on my part. (negatron, nota bene the
smooth hocky metaphor. Colin, Stiff Lips' mother asked us about "Dancing
Matilda". Stiff Lips asked me to sing it in the shower. I can't remember
all the words. Help?) I was trying to respond to the legitimate concerns
of a very paranoid bunch. Fuck you all. If I wanted to destroy the World
I don't need to buy some cheap-ass software that I don't even know how to
use and won't learn. In part I keep myself cybernetically challenged to keep
myself powerless and at the mercy of the geeks and Technical Staff. I can
destroy the World by just not writing to it. It doesn't yet stand on its
own two feet, let alone walk. One of the things I like about the MOO is that
it doesn't only exist in my own mind. I think I even prefer having ArchDeluxe
be the Man 'cause negatron and I seem to think so alike. Having someone with
whom I often disagree with her hand on the thermonuclear device makes for
some controversy and prevents me from getting drunk and toading all of your
sorry asses. BTW Queequeg, you get the second write-up for being mean to
a gurst/newbie: "Asslick_Guest: 'How do u get a char?' negatron: 'You wait
two weeks for the wizzen to decide if they like your name.'" I heard you
two got into it last night. Is everyone going to be an asshole until school
starts so you can fight with your professors instead of fighting with me?
Werner, I thought that was just a typo for the post-MOO song: Spam in allium.
Murder, I thought flocalizing was the name for giving head sideways. Beware,
Stiff Lips has caught something of my 'confrontational' attitude. She threatened
this morning to ask John Gallway: "Hey, asshole, how come you recorded the
Mozart concerto?" ArchDeluxe, hey, I'm just a working boy who fell in with
the wrong internet crowd. Actually I'm just Stiff Lips' male morph and you're
all arguing with a figment of her imagination. BTW we've come up with a new
contest. We've got a spread sheet with the daily tabs of each page. So far
my poetry, cybersex and negatron are winning. Stiff Lips is very unhappy
with this. You all have no fucking guts. Stiff Lips was raped by a man she
met on the MOO and fewer than six months later (notice that awsome grammatical
move) she sent me that terrible tale after I had e-mailed her with that cruel
joke "4x4". Two weeks later she dropped out of school and moved in with me.
She agreed to have her e-mail on the web site, indeed insisted on having
a more prominent spot than I had originally intended, knowing full well that
the man might find it and read it and that he could come on as a guest any
day and page her and MOOmail her or send her e-mail. Even the knowledge that
he has learned of her move to this state hasn't hurt her resolve. This fucking
woman has more courrage than all of your ancestors combined, or as one of
the cooks said to one of the gay boys the other day: "She's more of a woman
than you'll ever be and more of a man than you'll ever get." Allset, What
the fuck is this shit about being married to your best friend but not being
in love with your husband? What, you're secretly in love with Queequeg but
too shy to tell him? I've got to go for a job interview. That's enough for
today Mr Antichrist. Here are my suggestions for the discography: "Too Drunk
to Fuck" (The Dead Kennedeys), "Holiday in Berlin" (The Sex Pistols), "White
Riot" (The Clash), "I Promise not to Come in Your Mouth" (Frank Zappa), "Fight
the Powers that Be" (?) and "I Drink Alone" (George Thoroughgood). Sechs
isch ke zahl. Es isch e Hobby.
RECTVM VINVM
Scott Alexander Gabriel Reiss
From: Nichelle
Date: 12 August 1996
Subject: Sperm 'n valium
I got a job. I'm working temporarily for the bookstore for a couple of weeks
before school starts. It's the only job I can accept with a clean conscience
without knowing whether or not I've been accepted to LeMoyne. I checked out
the score for Black Angels to share with Gabriel since I'm fairly sure he's
never seen anything like it. Murder, have you got a recording of it? If so,
bring me a copy in NYC. I have to be back here on Monday to start training.
I don't know when I'll arrive in NYC yet, but I guess I leave sometime on
Sun, or very early Mon. I'm going to put on Shosty's Leningrad Symphony to
bring luck to Gaby on his interview at this restaurant (it's called Leningrad's).
Werner, your comment last night about not having to live the dangerous lifestyle
I live did not go unnoticed. Is this really about danger? People *have* your
address, your phone number, your social security number, your e-mail address,
your shoe size... When I talk to people who say they aren't willing to give
a first name for use on RL MOO I have to wonder... are people *really* so
paranoid that they think going by Chris or Mary on the moo is going to bring
on a swarm of stalkers, obscene e-mailers, heavy breathing on the phone? You
take risks with all human interaction. You take risks driving to work, crossing
the street, stepping into an elevator on the 20th floor, having sex with
a stranger. Life is risky. Does it mean you should never go out?
I met a man on the moo, just after I began on PMC. We talked, and he asked
me a lot of questions. Then after about 30 minutes, he blurted out "My name
is Christophere Scarpelli. I live at 1486 Bird Lane, Moutain Valley, Michigan."
What's wrong with you people.
-Stiff Lips
From: Nichelle
Date: 12 August 1996
Subject: Undergraduate scum
I got into my college.
Since you can't buy me drinks in person, each of you should please send
me $20. Gaby is going to have to get me drunk tonight.
Hey negatron, want to meet on the moo and do our homework together?
-Stiff Lips
From: Laurent
Date: 12 August 1996
Subject: Re: Undergraduate scumeluctable_Modality 0 new messages
CONGRATULATIONS!
From: Terry
Date: 12 August 1996
Subject: Re: Boyz n the list
My, my, my... how quickly word spreads when I've had a disagreement with
someone.
I started to go into the details of why negatron and I got into it; but,
at the last minute, I deleted it all. The details aren't important. The final
outcome is. John, I'm sorry if it seemed as though I was jumping all over
you and had an "attitude". I got pissed when I saw that a char had been created,
after I had refused it (with Gabe's input) twice. I'm truly sorry... I hate
apologizing, but when I'm wrong, I admit it. I was wrong. There were several
things I *should* have done; but didn't. *sigh* So, with that in mind, forgive
me. It doesn't bother me so much when I argue with Gabe, coz he argues with
everyone. But, when I argue with negatron... that bothered me. So, bottom
line. I admit I was wrong.
I never claimed to be the best ArchDeluxe in the world... and I'm human
just like everyone else. 'Nuf said on that matter.
Allset, I think we should compare notes sometimes on our lives... several
remarks you made caught my interest. Look me up on RLMOO sometime.
Murder, where are you???????? I'm looking forward to meeting you online.
Stiff Lips, I'm still applauding all of your hard work on the web pages;
you've done an outstanding job!!!!!!!! *big pat on the back* I'm curious as
to what software you're using. :)
Laterz,
Teri
From: Terry
Date: 12 August 1996
Subject: Re: Undergraduate scum
On Mon, 12 Aug 1996, Nichelle wrote:
> I got into my college.
> Since you can't buy me drinks in person, each of you should please
send me
> $20. Gaby is going to have to get me drunk tonight.
>
> Hey negatron, want to meet on the moo and do our homework together?
>
> -Stiff Lips
Congrats, Nichelle!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
BTW, I went back to work last week (I'm in education), and it always amazes
me that I seem to accomplish more when I'm working full time than when I have
the whole summer off. My house is cleaner, I cook more, etc. Very strange..
I'll have to put in my two cents worth on music. If anyone likes Andrew
Lloyd Webber, the soundtrack to Starlight Express is wonderful! I saw the
production of this last fall and was totally blown away. (I like this kind
of shit. Heh.) Also, I love piano pieces (I play both piano and keyboards)...
I have too many favorites to list all at once. But, right now, I'm listening
to Mozart's "Jeunehomme". Yummy. :)
Laterz,
Teri
From: Murder
Date: 12 August 1996
Subject: Leningrad
Whoa, Gabe, hang on. I did not accuse you of playing power trips with this
list. Quite the contrary. I'm sorry if my post was misleading. I, like you,
want to see the list kept in the same format it is now. I might just have
to dare Stiff Lips at the convention to go up to James Galway and do just
that--or else she should suggest that she should record K.313 on clarinet.
Ooooohh, I shudder at the thought. Galway's "offense" was on a much lesser
scale than that crime. Yes, I do have a recording of Black Angels, but only
of Images 4-9. I don't know what happened to the first three. But I will bring
it if you can bring a walkman, since the motor in mine is dead. Weird that
you mention Shosty's Leningrad. I too listened to this piece this morning
before I even read your post. Morphogenic fields coming into play? Not that
I am a big believer in that kind of stuff, but it is an interesting theory.
Here is a meek beginning of my addition to the Bib:
1. Victoria: Requiem Mass
2. Bach: Mass in B-minor
3. Mozart: Symphonia Concertante in E-flat, K. 364
4. Beethoven: Symphony #9 in D-minor, op. 125
5. Brahms: A German Requiem
6. Debussy: Sonata for Flute, Viola, and Harp
7. Mahler: Symphony #9 in D
8. Mahler: Das Lied von der Erde
9. Schoenberg: Pierrot Lunaire
10. Shostakovich: Symphony #4 in C-minor
11. Stravinsky: Symphony of Psalms
12. Bartok: Concerto for Orchestra
13. Cage: 4'33"
Murder
From: Murder
Date: 12 August 1996
Subject: A few more
Oops, I forgot a few:
14. Schoenberg: A survivor from Warsaw, op.46
15. Sibelius: Valse Triste
16. Schubert: Symphony #5 in B-flat
17. Bernstein: Symphony #2 "The Age of Anxiety"
Murder
From: Murder
Date: 13 August 1996
Subject: I'm off to see....
This is my final message before my trip. Immediately after hitting Ctrl
X to send this I am going to drive back to Spokane and catch a plane in the
morning. Teri, I will get on the MOO as soon as I can; I have not had much
time lately for anything other than getting all my stuff squared away for
this trip. My first appearance on the MOO will not be before the 21st. Allset,
I wanted to send you a personal message, but the mail bounced (concerned about
privacy, huh?!) and I don't have time to resend it today, so I will have
to do it when I get back. If you want, you can send me your address privately
and I will make every effort to send my message as soon as I can. I hunted
down the Black Angels this morning, so we're set to go, Stiff Lips. I will
call you tomorrow night when I get settled in.
Murder
From: SAGReiss
Date: 13 August 1996
Subject: Laurent's ami
>Date: Tue, 13 Aug 1996 19:34:37 PDT
>From: SAGReiss@lambda.moo.mud.org
>Subject: LambdaMOO Message(s) 28
>
>Message 28:
>Date: Tue Aug 13 16:01:33 1996 PDT
>From: Kudo
>To: SAGReiss
>Subject: hello
>
>I hear from le_marquis that your girlfriend/FWB/etc is going to the
National
>Flute Convention. I shall be flying there tomorrow(wed) morning to stalk
her.
>Well, maybe I'm just going to go because I want to blow up the bunch
of
>persons obsessed with the ultimate phallic instrument. Okay, that's
probably
>a lie. Actually, I'm going because I'm a flutist/flautician/flautist
and I
>have a schoolmate who's in the National High School Flute Soloist Competition
>there. So, in truth, I will be there to attend the master classes, visit
with
>old and new teachers, play a bit, socialise, and perhaps to buy a piccolo.
>I'm sure you care. All in all, I was quite surprised to hear that the
babe
>would be there, and would be estatic to say 'hi' whilst I'm there.
>And that's the truth,
>-ku do
>--------------------------
RECTVM VINVM
Scott Alexander Gabriel Reiss
From: SAGReiss
Date: 13 August 1996
Subject: Laurent's ami II
Laurent, what the fuck is wrong with your dumb ass? Right in the middle
of a serious fight about privacy and confidentiality on the listserv you
give out information on the whereabouts and hotel address of Stiff Lips to
some total fucking stranger who is obviously very unstable or has a very
bad sense of humour? You fucking scumbag. I will hold my anger until you
try to come up with some reasonable excuse before I toad you from the list
and ask that you be toaded from RL MOO with extreme prejudice. Is this your
idea of a joke? Stiff Lips will probably not be in attendance at this fucking
conference. I'm awfully glad I've never told you much else about us. I knew
we would have to deal with some psychos, but I didn't think it would work
like this. I agree with Allset that disputes/arbitration is not the way to
deal with evil cunts and motherfuckers. On the other hand I hope that some
members of this list will have the fucking guts to send some very nasty MOOmail
to laurent/le_marquis and kudo. SAGReiss [to laurent]: Vas te faire enculer.
RECTVM VINVM
Scott Alexander Gabriel Reiss
From: Laurent
Date: 14 August 1996
Subject: hey!
woo..me?toaded?..actually i have never been toaded from any of the MOOs
i have ever been on..do you think it hurts?
come on gabe..i was speaking with this old friend of mine who happened to
go to the same social event motive/nichelle/stiff lips is attending..wanna
kill me for noticing the coincidence..well please do..i hope you translate
some nice poems to pronounce on my MOOexecution..maybe something russian..i
know you do not speak russian but i trust your immense genius to find the
souls of the poems from between the lines of cyrillic characters..
well btw..unless i am wrong, isn't stiff lips the one who is supposed to
be angry at me for disclosing a bit of her privacy? stiff lips..was it such
a crime to tell my friend rebecca that you are going to the same flute convention
she does? if you are will you pronounce the sentence of my beheading?
bon ben salut,
laurent
From: Nichelle
Date: 14 August 1996
Subject: beheading
Actually, I'm sentencing you to be keelhauled, once Ahab gets home. Laurent,
you need to tell me a few things. Did you tell this person my real name? My
moo name? What about Murder? Yes, I'm very angry. Perhaps you just have seriously
bad taste in friends. Perhaps your friend has a terrible and twisted sense
of humor. Yes, this affects Gabriel too. We live together. I came here to
get away from a psycho. Please don't invite anymore psychos into my life.
I'm trying to cut back. Yes, I think it's wrong to tell your friend rebecca
that she could look me up/stalk me at this flute convention. And it was also
wrong of your friend rebecca to send that letter to Gabriel's character. I
do not wish to put my faith in your apparently very poor judgment of character.
Those decisions are mine to make. This has nothing to do with Gabriel's immense
genius. This is about your bad decision and breach of faith.
-Stiff Lips
From: Laurent
Date: 14 August 1996
Subject: Re: beheading
i just told her your mooname..and nothing else..actually i do not know your
real name..never invited her into your life just thought she could moomail
to let you make that judgement
getting ready for keelhauling, as soon as he discovers what that word means
laurent
From: Nichelle
Date: 14 August 1996
Subject: keelhauling
I think the basic technique for keelhauling is this: you tie one end of
a long rope to the offender, the other to the stern (back) of a ship. Then
the person is thrown off the bow (front) and dragged along the bottom of the
ship, which is usually covered with barnacles, until he surfaces on the other
side. I'm not sure if he is then taken back into the ship, or if they tow
him around back there for a while, or just cut the rope...
RECTVM VINVM
Scott Alexander Gabriel Reiss
From: Nichelle
Date: 14 August 1996
Subject: identity crisis
I have to remember to leave off that signature. That definition was from
me.
-Stiff Lips
From: Laurent
Date: 14 August 1996
Subject: Re: identity crisis
well we haven't a word for that torture in french..that must be a typical
anglosaxon delight..
well i'll try to survive the keelhauling to try and be better last time..
laurent
From: SAGReiss
Date: 14 August 1996
Subject: 5 cents an hour
I s'pose I could be happy not to get fired and to get a raise at all, but
I'm not. That's a fucking disgrace. At about thirty-two hours a week, that's
a dollar sixty a week, eighty-three dollars and twenty cents a year. Maybe
I'll just make a tax-deductable donation of that sum to the Liberterian Party
or the Cyberlibertine Club. Yes, Werner I smoked Gitanes for a decade. I've
decided to rename negatron's text: "Kewl pics of my gf and her dog" or maybe
"Kewl pics of my dog and his gf". No one will ever go to your fucking page.
I'll win. Besides, why the fuck did I ever make up such a telegenetic title?
I'm so fucking bad at the phone. How could I mistake "Lemon Grass" for "Lenningrad's"?
Note the brilliant allusion to 12000 Virgins. We're going to use last night's
chat for the sample MOO text. That means we get to make up stupid names for
all of you. Now I see what negatron got so pissed about. Killjoy is a member
of his ID stable. That was yesterday afternoon. I'm so tired. This list/web/moo
shit is killing me, taking the lifeblood from me, has already trashed my sex
life. negatron: "Hello." SAGReiss: "John, this is Gabriel. Someone is building
shit on the MOO." negatron: "How the fuck did you get my number?" SAGReiss:
"It's in the phone book, John." I'm going to try to be brief and then go
seek solace onna MOO or in bed in Stiff Lips' arms. Teri, why is someone
called Chip (which is a crime enough in my eyes, as names go) building stupid
shit on RL MOO? I was polite, at least at first. Asked him if he knew we
didn't allow that. He said he had read the texts. I gave him a fair opportunity
to destroy what he had built. He chose not to take advantage of it. Enough
said. I think you should reconsider putting the MOO on your server. Think
of the advantages: more data-base flexibility, web space for RL MOOers to
make their home pages, increased integration of the list and the web and the
MOO... We don't owe the current server anything, except his monthly fee. He
hasn't done us any special favors. He doesn't even use his real fucking name
on RL MOO. Please think this over. Although you would have been angry at
the bloodlust which swallowed Chip last night (partly because I was so fucking
mad at Stiff Lips' asshole father and at laurent and Rebecca), you would
have loved the reaction in Purgatorio. People realize that something different
is going on, something well real. It took a lot of cold blood on John's part
(possibly because he hadn't drunk enough whisky) (He has a slow, soft-pitched,
marajuana-laden Kanadian accent.) not to give in to the amok of the frenzied
mob. Laurent, don't you see how receiving such a letter from an unidentified
stranger might upset Stiff Lips? I think you showed bad judgement and I think
your friend has a very poor-taste sense of humour. I wouldn't have thought
twice about hate mail to me. I've gotten it before. But threatening letters
to Stiff Lips? To all members of this list, please be careful to respect
other members' privacy. This list depends, for its very existence, on trust,
so that even members less outspoken than I feel comfortable writing the details
of their daily lives, which is where literature comes from, the difference
between our daily life and the telling of it. As Mitterand said: "La Revolution
permanente."
RECTVM VINVM
Scott Alexander Gabriel Reiss
From: Laurent
Date: 15 August 1996
Subject: Re: 5 cents an hour
Mitterrand said "la revolution permanente"..??'t was Trotsky in my memories
and i did not see Mitterrand as a Trotskyist..Mitterrand said "changer la
vie" though..which could have been a good conclusion to your letter..
laurent
From: Terry
Date: 15 August 1996
Subject: Re: 5 cents an hour
Gabe, Chip is his real name and he did NOT know he couldn't build when he
first logged on and did. After he settled into his *home*, he began reading
the help files and realized that he'd found an obvious bug (the ability to
build, to the which John and I thought we'd disabled). Chip was waiting on
me to log back on. Why would he @recycle because you asked him to? He didn't
know you. He felt attacked by those involved; and understandably so. He did
exactly what I would have done; become very defensive and stubborn. John told
me himself that Chip reacted in a way similar to what he probably would have
done. And John explained to you, Gabe, about it being OUR fault that he was
able to build. Now, Chip has been reinstated as a char on RLMOO. And I'm
tired of hearing all the bitching about him. What really pisses me off is
that his attitude is no different than what I've seen from you on MOO. In
the beginning, the idea was to not toad anyone on RLMOO for any reason; other
than hacking at the db. But, since people seem to be stepping on your toes,
I've heard you wanting to toad a couple of players. Well, it's not gonna
happen. @gag them. Remember??? Don't go blaming Chip for his reaction on
RLMOO. To do so would be so hypocritical. And remember... it IS Real Life
MOO. If this pisses you off, so be it. I'm tired of this shit. RLMOO doesn't
revolve around Gabe. Or Teri. Or John. Or anyone. It's a team effort and it
seems I'm reminded often of our theme and etc. Now it's my turn to remind.
As for putting RLMOO on my machine and server, I don't think I can. I'm
getting a new machine and server at work. If I got caught with contraband
on the system, I could get in severe trouble. Not worth the risk; I've put
in 20 years at that job.
As for the wizards (the one who rents us server space) name not being his
real life name... where did you get that idea??? Our rules state that it has
to be a close approximation. We agreed that any part of their real name could
be used. First, middle, or last; or any combination thereof. Again, Gabe,
you go bitching about stuff you don't know all of the story to. Geez, get
the right info before you express your opinion.
To Laurent: I see nothing wrong with giving your friend the MOOname of Stiff
Lips. Then letting Stiff Lips determine whether to have rl contact or not.
BUT, it was in very poor taste of your friend to send the mail. I don't care
if she has the best sense of humor in the world, proper etiquette would not
allow for that. Were it not for Stiff Lips background, the mail (if it were
in jest) might have been seen in a different light. But, knowing what we do,
I saw no humor in it.
A pet peeve of mine: People who express their opinions in any manner that
they see fit bitching out others who do the same; simply because he/she doesn't
like what's being said or done. Well, maturity becomes a factor here.
I made up my mind a few weeks ago to keep my comments to myself, because
I hate arguing with Gabe. Or anyone, for that matter. But, I've decided to
hell with that. I'm entitled to my opinion and I think I express it in a much
nicer way than is usually given to me. So, no apologies for what I think,
Gabe. You make no concessions for me; I now no longer will make any for you.
And to whoever doesn't like what I've said, well fuck you.
Tired of getting hassled because of the friends I choose,
Teri
From: Werner
Date: 15 August 1996
Subject: waltzing Matilda
Waltzing Matilda
Once a jolly swagman camped by a Billabong
Under the shade of a Coolabah tree
And he sang as he watched and waited till his billy boiled
"Who'11 come a-waltzing Matilda with me?"
Down come a jumbuck to drink at the water hole
Up jumped a swagman and grabbed him in glee
And he sang as he stowed him away in his tucker bag
"You'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me'".
Up rode the Squatter a riding his thoroughbred
Up rode the Trooper- one, two, three
"Where's thst jumbuck you've got in your tucker bag?",
"You'11 come a-waltzing Matiltda with me"
But the swagman he up and jumped in the water hole
Drowning himself by the Coolabah tree,
And his ghost may be heard as it sings in the Billabong,
"Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?"
A.B. Paterson
Reproduced from 'Saltbush Bill J.P. and Other Verses', published in 1917.
From: SAGReiss
Date: 15 August 1996
Subject: No supper
You are absolutely right, ArchDeluxe, to send me to bed with no supper.
The keelhauling next time. As I said to a number of people yesterday on the
MOO, Tuesday was just a Comedy of bad luck. We were both in a foul mood because
of Stiff Lips' father goading her. The only good points of the visit were
his promise to buy her a 'puter and the pleasure I took in watching a man
who wanted to eat roast beef and mashed potatoes eating a quiche loraine and
salad with basil vinaigrette and peaches and berries flambees. His exhaulted
praise of my cooking skills was in direct proportion to his dislike of the
fare. Afterwards just to check I asked Stiff Lips: "He hated it, didn't he?"
She said that he did. Rebecca's letter meant no harm. Written to almost anyone
else, it would have been quite innocuous. Written to someone who has been
stalked, and worse, on several occasions, who has received letters written
in blood, on what was already a bad day, it obviously did not look like a
joke. Having just received that very disturbing missive, we got on RL. That
is the context of the unfortunate affaire Chip. Again luck was not on our
side. Had you discovered the accident, it could have been cleared up without
so much trouble. The mistake is my own. Not knowing exactly what the data
base is, hacking ("unauthorized programming") is exactly what I thought he
was doing. Obviously it is not his fault if he was simply able to do what
he does on every other MOO. It is our fault for not thinking to test that.
I shall apologize to Chip whenever I see him. Then I'll gag him. While I'm
at it I should also apologize to laurent. Je suis desole, mon ami. J'ai reagi
sur le coup, de facon exageree. Je crois que tu as commis une erreur de jugement,
mais ca n'excuse pas mon invective. These are trying times. Yesterday, for
the first time since she told me his name, I was in a room with the man who
raped Stiff Lips. It was a very weird moment. I can only imagine what she
must feel like when he shows up. We all have to live with our past, the stress
of daily life and the burdons we have to bear. Stiff Lips got a letter recently
from an old friend which read in part: "We saw 'Phenomenone' (spell??) Suday."
She asked: "Why the fuck doesn't she just look it up?" I pointed out that
I frequently use this technique, metatext, to draw the reader's attention
to the fact that a literary representation of the world is not the same thing
as the world. Such a technique (other examples are the parenthetical notes
in a recent letter of mine: "nota bene the smooth hocky [sic] metaphor" and
"notice that awesome grammatical move") dispells the illusion of reality which
the author has created. It reminds the reader that this is just a text. I
guess what I'm trying to say is that some of what I write here is intentionally
laden with rhetoric and hyperbole. That's part of my style. Some of the events
are slightly rearranged for the sake of the tale. The truth is that there
is a spectrum that goes from RL to the telephone to e-mail to MOO with diminishing
doses of reality. My goal has been to increase the dose of reality in the
MOO. I don't really think RL and VR are exactly the same thing. In the final
analysis I would defend the claim that the man sitting at the keyboard is
NOT the narrator of this letter. The I of a letter fulfills a specific literary
function. No human being can ever be reduced to such an esthetic role. Je
est un autre.
RECTVM VINVM
Scott Alexander Gabriel Reiss
From: Terry
Date: 15 August 1996
Subject: Re: No supper
Gabe, I must say I'm impressed.
For you to admit to the very things that I had pointed out in my Email causes
me to redirect my thoughts of you. It takes a strong man/woman to admit when
he/she is wrong. I hate making mistakes; but will admit when I'm wrong (just
did with John last week).
Eating crow doesn't usually taste good... so, I try to serve mine up as
"Crow Under Glass". Amazing how the outlook on something can make it go down
much easier. :)
Gotta get back to work, no MOO windows open for me for several hours...
Teri
From: Laurent
Date: 15 August 1996
Subject: Re: No supper
WOW!!apologies from gabe..I did not expect so much.. Not that i really like
the public keelhauling..but well..becca can be a nasty kid at her own moments
and she really ate her foot and even part of the leg this time..i guess knowing
gabe's sarcasms she must have thought stiff-lips would not have minded a really
bad joke.. I can tell you when she gets back from New York she ain't gonna
get no desserts for weeks...and she will have to help me heal the scars from
the keelhauling..
sorry to hear you had that much of a bad day..mine are really cool and easy
these days..Paris in August is completely empty..all of my friends have left
town...gotta run down 3 blocks to find a boulangerie...but the few people
who stay are really nice to balance for the desertification of town which
is mostly abandoned to ugly tourist busses..
my roommate's girlfriend just dyed her pussy pink (the hair i mean) , and
she showed it to me the day after he left for 2 weeks in Zimbabwe..it looks
really cute but..would any of you girls shoe your pubic hair to your lover's
best friend?Should I let hair dye my pubic hair purple?In case you think i
should do you have any idea of a really non erotic thing to think about while
you have a cute woman brushing your pubic hair?
Sorry to be trivial..just wanted to try and escape a bit from the ontological
disarray..
bisous
laurent
From: SAGReiss
Date: 16 August 1996
Subject: Pink Matilda
I can just imagine laurent, the Eurostud of the Sex Room, carefully putting
on his reading glasses for an up-close, scientifically detached look at his
best friend's gf's newly-dyed-pink pussy. Does it do tricks? Did she make
you put on surgical gloves to check out the texture? What exactly is the html
code for the colour? I'm sure all of our readers must be asking themselves
these same, and other, burning questions. Please be forthcoming (Um, may I
rephrase that?) in providing all of the necessary mathematical data. This
is, after all, a research project. Stiff Lips and negatron have both registered
as sophmores (We all know what that means, right?) and they're taking Computer
Science 101 and Women's Studies 069 and this is their interDISCIPLINary homework.
I ask you all please to give us any relevant input on this matter. Please
include full-colour GIFs and JPEGs.
RECTVM VINVM
Scott Alexander Gabriel Reiss
From: SAGReiss
Date: 16 August 1996
Subject: ¿Dónde está la Comecabra?
A fortnight ago, when I put Comecabra’s text on the World, I hesitated about
the accent, clearly indicated in my Random House Dictionary for the adverb
(in this case interrogative, but some might call it a pronoun). I asked, of
all people, Canis_Lupus about it. He called me all kinds of names. He said:
“I’ve been speaking Spanish for thirty years.” “There’s no such word [as
dónde].” “You can’t even speak Spanish,” which of course I readily
admitted, which is why I had asked him in the first place. I had no faith
in Random House, of course, but I also saw the form in one of Stiff Lips’
books by Pablo Neruda. Basically, making the syntactic distinction orthographically
manifest just made sense to me. It felt right, and I trust my instincts about
language even if I don’t know the tongue. We berated eachother for a week
or more and today I went to the library and looked it up. I quote from the
Real Academia’s Diccionario: “Se emplea siempre, como interrogativo, con acento
fonético y ortográfico.” I got on Lambda and asked Canis_Lupus
when he was going to change his name to SAGReiss_is_always_right. His reaction
was typical of MOOers: “Who gives a fuck, you asshole?” I cannot imagine being
so apallingly wrong. I don’t mean making a mistake, but insisting so heavily
on one’s God-like knowledge of a subject so close to one’s identity, and
being flat-out wrong. Having a Gringo who can’t even speak Spanish tell a
Latino how the language is written in the Castillian dialect, I would cut
my throat if that happened to me. I could not bear to live being wrong. Not
about something so basic and so important. Shiiit, I would cut my throat if
I made a mistake like that about French. How do these terminal idiots live?
How can they get college diploma’s? How can they sleep? Why do they exist?
RECTVM VINVM
Scott Alexander Gabriel Reiss
From: Nichelle
Date: 16 August 1996
Subject: A map of RL MOO
Have a look at the site and click on "A map of RL MOO". I've put up a map
with the room descriptions and some very beautiful pictures.
-Stiff Lips
From: Kathy
Date: 18 August 1996
Subject: (no subect)
I was trying to find the point beyond the pain. The point where the pain
is secondary to the amorphous something that you feel in the center of the
storm. When I used to Submit, I would find that place... that focus ... fairly
quickly most of the time. But this was something I wasn't expecting. Something
I couldn't deal with in any rational way. I reached inside of me and tried
to drag the dreck of from the pit of my stomach and make it come out of me
in great sobbing tears or gasps, but what I discovered was that there was
too much dreck to bring it all out and deal with it. It was just stuck in
there where I could feel it all the time. It moved with me and stayed with
me. Even when I slept, I could feel that pain there like a ball gnawing away
at my insides. I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep. It had been at least four
days since I'd done either.
I tried dancing. That's the catharsis. I dance until I no longer hear the
music, I just sense it in my bones; it becomes part of me. I went to a concert
and danced until my feet were numb and then collapsed into a ball in the corner
crying until someone drove me home. And it didn't help.
So I tried to write. Didn't help. Writing always helps. My writing is the
most important thing in the world to me, and so when the second most important
thing in the world to me walked out, I figured I would take comfort in the
writing. Maybe that's what I'm trying to do now.
I quit smoking about 7 months ago. Except for two minor slidebacks of a
couple days each, I've been really good about it. Until Tuesday. Then I started
again and I'm up to half a pack a day. I know I'd smoke even more if my office
were smoke friendly. I guess I'm glad it's not.
What do you do when, after four years, you suddenly find yourself on your
own without the person who said he wanted to marry you? Marriage... heh. On
Sunday he was talking about the marriage being in April, and on Tuesday he
told me he was in love with another woman. We'd just left dinner. Dinner with
his boss & his boss' wife and their friends. At dinner I'd teased him
about spending the night at his friend Susan's house on Friday night and
he jokingly got on the offensive saying nothing had happened and he would
never cheat on me. Then, on the train on the way home, he told me that he
was in love with her. But no, nothing had happened. Isn't falling in love
something?
He went with me to the club. And in a lull between songs he screamed at
me, "Leave me the fuck alone, bitch." Then he walked out, leaving me there.
Jason, some random guy from the club, came up and tried to make me laugh.
The lead singer from the band that was playing even gave me a hug to make
me feel better. They told me I was quite a catch and that this "loser" just
didn't know a good thing when he saw one. I like to try and tell myself that.
Jason also said that the thing that sucked was that the jerk had "scarred"
me. But I don't think I'm scarred really. I mean, I'm not going to give up
on guys, and I'm not going to stop trusting people. Just because one emotionally
immature boy can't be stable is no reason for me to give up on my whole life.
I'm beautiful, intelligent, fun, adventurous, sexy, creative and bright. I
know there will be others for me.
But for now the pain is so overwhelming that I feel myself acting irrationally
and out of misery. I went to look at apartments today. Nice apartments. I
can afford them now finally. And I was in no emotional state to choose one.
I think I picked a good one, but I'm not even sure. All I could think about
was going home and packing up my stuff and having to sleep in the same place
as him for another two weeks before I could leave.
I was ironing a shirt this morning, and I suddenly saw a spot on it. I realized
that I just didn't care, and I suddenly broke into tears.
When I was first learning the ropes as a Dom (no pun intended), I learned
that something you have to be able to do as a Dom is be willing to let go
of your Submissive. When a Submissive comes to you and enters into a relationship,
the Submissive is expected to follow certain guidelines and rules, and if
you are afraid to leave them if they REALLY fuck up, then they can top you
from below, and you're no longer the strong Dom they wanted, and they end
up leaving you anyway because you're no longer the Dom they wanted and needed.
I tried to keep that in mind as I did the practical things I needed to do
now that this relationship is over. But this isn't a bdsm relationship, this
is a relationship of equals. I'm not sure how to handle it. I know that at
some point I will be over him.
I just wish I could get to that point now.
I'm rambling. I'll stop. I guess I just wanted to get it off of my chest
and share. Eric told me that you have to keep sharing and repeating to people,
"I'll be okay" because the more you do that, the weaker the pain becomes,
and the more quickly it'll actually be true and you will be okay.
Four years.... That's a long time. I guess it's going to be a long time
in getting over him.
What an introduction. I'm Kathy. Most of you know me as Opal. You'll notice,
though, that on relevant MOOs, my name is now Kathy. Somehow Opal just seems
no longer appropriate...
From: Nichelle
Date: 18 August 1996
Subject: the new pussy
I don't write very good letters, at least not usually, but at least I write
something. I'm not sure I understand what you are all doing here. I think
at least some of you read this as a substitute for reading the tabloids, and
a few others read this because you want to keep an eye on your MOO buddies,
and not very many of you are here because you like to write letters, though
I can't really complain because I haven't written very many letters myself
lately. I've been getting ready for school, doing my reading for Bitterness
104, beginning with Bukowski. The only prerequisite was Humility 100, which
I started in mid-March. I'm going to go read some more. Gaby will be home
soon anyway, and either he'll get online and fight with the assholes on Lambda
or he'll go to sleep. Doesn't matter, I'm just undergraduate scum who hasn't
read the books he has read and can't speak the languages he can speak. I'm
some lukewarm housewife who distracts him from his work. And you all think
he's got a gold-plated brain and a dick the size of Manhattan. You don't understand-
this thing only works when you say something, not just react to Gabriel.
Despite the melodrama in Opal's letter, I respect that she isn't reacting
to another letter. I feel like my job on this list is to beg for e-mail.
Are you intimidated? Are you afraid fo criticism? Yes, if you write to this
list you will be criticized. The other day at the table, Gaby told me that
my letter that morning wasn't very good. But... why are you here if you don't
write?
From: SAGReiss
Date: 18 August 1996
Subject: Black tie, white gloves
Criticism? I'm a little too tired to criticize anyone but my bosses right
now. My back is throbbing, as is my neck, shoulders, hips, knees, elboes wrists
and ankles. My feet hurt. I would try to think of a part of the body which
isn't in pain, but my brain is too weak and weary to bother. We had a banquet
dinner for 150 assholes who think that medieval cannon law is something interesting
to make jokes about over cocktails. I don't mind doing a clown's job, but
I don't really like wearing his uniform. Stiff Lips thought I looked very
handsome in my tuxedo shirt with studs and a black bow tie. I can't imagine
what she would have said had she seen me with the Uncle Tom white gloves.
They weren't white for long, of course. They wore the shades of every course
and wine I served. Two odd moments during the dinner. When my first table
arrived I thought I heard the sounds of French and said: "Bonsoir, Messieursdames."
The whole table turned around as one and stared at me. I thought: "What the
fuck? Was I halucinating? Are these really some kiwi French-hating Nazis?"
I babbled: "I'm sorry. I thought... Vous parlez francais. Excuse me." Turned
out they were just amazed that a waiter-type Amerikan asshole can speak better
French than their illustrious colleagues. One of the dudes was from Strasbourg
and joked: "Vous avez appris a parler notre petit dialecte?" I just answered:
"Mir kenne au Elsasisch rede." It was a little weird. The other odd thing
was when we were clearing and they were still milling about. I was carrying
one of those monster fifty-pound trays and saw two girls, one of whom had
an unlit cigarette in her hand. I slowed to a stop, reached into my pocket,
pulled out my lighter and lit her cigarette. The other girl burst out laughing:
"Have I done something wrong?" "No I just thought that was so funny. It was
beautiful." Lady, this is my fucking job. If the medievalist pudenda think
that chivalry is dead, ou sont les neiges d'antan? Anyway I worked a split
shift 6 to 2 and 5 to 11:30 and 6 to 2:30 today. I don't give a fuck. We're
into OT, boys and girls, and I've got nine and a half hours @$13.50. (See,
assholes, I can write 'puter code. You just put in a lot of meaningless punctuation
and voila.) About Opal's letter. While the "melodrama" (literally black action
for those of you in the TV audience) is an obviously just and fair criticism,
I'll try to make mine constructive. At the end you say something about the
name Opal no longer being appropriate, but we don't learn why... I'm guessing
that it's the melo-connection, Blackbriar and a black stone, but I don't
know. Forget your thoughts and emotions and tell the fucking tale.
RECTVM VINVM
Scott Alexander Gabriel Reiss
From: Kathy
Date: 18 August 1996
Subject: Re: Black tie, white gloves
> code. You just put in a lot of meaningless punctuation and voila.)
About
> Opal's letter. While the "melodrama" (literally black action for those
of
> you in the TV audience) is an obviously just and fair criticism, I'll
try to
> make mine constructive. At the end you say something about the name
Opal no
> longer being appropriate, but we don't learn why... I'm guessing that
it's
> the melo-connection, Blackbriar and a black stone, but I don't know.
Forget
> your thoughts and emotions and tell the fucking tale.
It's hard to be anything other than melodramatic when you feel like your
heart is being yanked out of your body. But cest la vie. I write the way I'm
feeling. And I never claimed I wasn't melodramatic just like some of you
wouldn't dare claim not to be pretentious or pompous or verbose.
Why not Opal anymore? For a lot of people the phrase "Opal and Blackbriar"
is really just one word. I was Opal before Seth, sure, but we sort of became
coagulated during the last four years. If I'm on as Opal, people page me or
ask me about Blackbriar or want to know how I am about the breakup and etc...
If someone sees "Kathy" in their friends lists or whatever they are, then
they are more likely to stop and think of me as not just an extension of
the infamous Mr.Blackbriar.
Hey Colin, want some juicy gossip? *chuckles* Just kidding. I wish I had
some for you.
--
"You can always pull out if you like it too much..." Garbage
From: Terry
Date: 18 August 1996
Subject: Re: the new pussy
On Sun, 18 Aug 1996, Nichelle wrote:
> And you all think he's got a gold-plated brain and a dick the size
of
> Manhattan.
Um, I never thought Gabe had a gold-plated brain or a dick the size of Manhattan.
:)
> Are you intimidated? Are you afraid fo criticism? Yes, if you
> write to this list you will be criticized. The other day at the table,
Gaby
> told me that my letter that morning wasn't very good. But... why are
you
> here if you don't write?
No, no, I know I'll be criticized, I like Nichelle's letters (they're refreshing),
and I'm here to read this mail and respond when I have the time and/or feel
the urge. :)
BTW: I'm sending this via my new 33.6 modem. Heh. I love speed.
Catch ya'll later,
Teri
From: Jenipher
Date: 19 August 1996
Subject: Re: your mail
I have just returned from London to a whole slew of email messages, from
both this listserv and the bdsm listserv I read. I was quite pleased to see
Kathy finally sent mail. I was, as usual, disappointed in the response. Melodrama
-- would that be defined as Kathy pouring her feelings out to us in the hopes
that doing so will somehow help her, or would that be defined as ArchDeluxe,
Gabe, John, etc., fighting over a virtual space as if it were real. Yeah,
yeah, REAL LIFE MOO. Whatever. Kathy is having a real life crisis right now.
Personally, I am about ready to scream a little more at Seth on lambda, but
he isn't logged on right now. I suppose I had my say Wednesday. I really tried
not to use the words hypocrite or undeserving -too- much.
London was incredible. Stuffed chicken breast, deep dish pizza, swordfish
served with roasted red, yellow and green bell peppers, spicy chicken wings,
museums, Impressionists, Kandinsky, Mondrian, Rothko, Tower of London, Trafalger
Square, Miss Saigon, Stephen Sondheim's Passion, Independence Day (Yes, ID4),
and the Rock. And Liebestod, who met us at 10 a.m. every day and dropped us
off at 1 a.m. every night. He was our guide, friend, entertainment, and my
wannabe-top. I saw pain in his eyes every time he glanced at the bracelet
that I wear for Kathy, until such time as she removes it. I found leather
cuffs at a sex shop, along with a gorgeous black leather riding crop. Now
all I need is someone willing to hit me with it until the blood flows. Kathy,
I wish I was with you right now, but I know it would be the worst possible
time for me to show up. I will bide my time, as usual.
I am so tired, still feeling the effect of the antihistamine I have to take
so I don't get sick on the plane. So, yes, this rambles. No, I