vr

a novel

Scott Alexander Gabriel Reiss

May 1998

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

From: Columbine
Date: 1 May 1998
Subject: Pissing and moaning

I realized that I'm a different gender when I get up to urinate in the middle of the night. I'm not sure I can justify that or explain it, but I'll probably write a poem about it. I write poems only when I know they'll be good, which means that these days I write about one a year.

I wrote a lot of poems in high school - three or four notebooks' worth. They were all horrible. I burned them. Once in a while, people's poetry histories come up in MUCK discussions, and I mention this, and I inevitably get at least one shocked response, as if it's a crime to burn any poetry. Hey, you weren't there, you have no idea how bad this stuff was. Anyone who writes regularly, and has the least little bit of hubris in her system, has usually considered at least once the idea that someone may one day collect their private papers and letters for the world to see - in which unlikely event, I have already made the conscious decision that those poems will not be part of the Permanent Record.

In high school I was depressed a lot. It was the only suicidal period in my life. It was so dark that I became self-repairing so I wouldn't go there again. I get depressed occasionally now, but only for five minutes at a time. Then I go write, or sleep, or have sex.

I find lately that I have begun to vent another way, one which scares me. Instead of getting depressed or upset about something which is chafing me, I get annoyed, the way you get annoyed when one muscle in your body just refuses to stop aching ... and I have begun to be bitchy with people because of this.

This frightens me. I'd frankly rather bear it silently than lash out. I will not permit myself the luxury of saying, "What a bunch of stupid people!" because that's ego I'm not allowed to have. Ego kills.

Nobody writes in about anything. Sometimes it's just that they don't check their email very often, sometimes it's that they have other things to deal with - but I always manage to wonder a little, "Are they mad at me?" Fundamentally insecure, I guess. I check email constantly during the day, always at least once a day, usually much more. The idea of someone who only checks their email every couple of days is alien to me.

With mouth organ the two of us are reaching critical mass. Unless we get feedback from people about what they think we're doing right or wrong, what they want to see and what they don't want to see, eventually we will just kill the beast. Then we'll get letters from people wanting to know why we did such a foolish thing. We know they're reading; we can see them.

Unlike inu where I write what I damn well please, mouth organ is meant to appeal to a variety of readers - it's not just supposed to be for our tastes. It may be a doomed crusade, but what the hell.

But you don't really care about legislative matters like those.

-columbine

--
Tornadoes and Southerners going through a divorce have a lot in common. In either case, you know someone is going to lose a trailer.

From: SAGReiss
Date: 1 May 1998
Subject: Motherfuckers

Todd, you are a lying motherfucker. I don't know why I even keep you on this list, except that I don't want to hear all the morally outraged complaints I'd get if I kicked you off, and it's moribund anyway until I resurrect it.

Nichelle, if you don't deal with those motherfuckers at AT&T, I'm going to destroy our phones, rip the cocksucking jacks out of the walls. I'm tired of this shit. I want to live in peace.

RECTVM VINVM
Scott Alexander Gabriel Reiss

From: Nichelle
Date: 1 May 1998
Subject: Re: Motherfuckers

I am in no mood to be cussed at. I talked to AT&T. They stopped calling. I don't know why they are calling now. I also don't know what your problem is. No, you can't kick Columbine off the list. We are all lying motherfuckers. You just want to destroy the phones because I've finally found somebody who will listen to me babble. I'm sorry that it offends you so much. Isn't it OK for me to have a few friends?

Nichelle

From: SAGReiss
Date: 22 May 1998
Subject: (no subject)

I'm sorry, sweetheart. I don't know why we've got to fight like this. I guess we are just weary of losing all the battles. It's true that the best I can do is hold on to a $14-an-hour slave job. I'm tired and hungover. You're right, of course. Get your diploma, and maybe we can go to the New England Conservatory or the Buffet Clarinet Works. I can't think of anything better to do. I love you. I think it's time for a little cure.

RECTVM VINVM
Scott Alexander Gabriel Reiss

April 1998

June 1998

vr: 1998