Wednesday, December 31, 2003

It's New Year's Eve. I'm here at work until this afternoon and then I have to go home to make myself as shag fabulous as I can. Witness the transformation! It has been brought to my attention that not all browsers support the new look of our blogs and the text is overrun and the background is sketchy. My apologies. I will make a confession that I'm sure everyone has already figured out: I really have no fucking clue what I'm doing. I'm cheating, just like back in high school when I used to copy off someone's paper to achieve the desired effect. I'll figure out a way to fix it as soon as I can. I guess the people expecting an apology won't be able to read it, though. Oh well. Pass it on, would you?

I just bought the world's greatest bar and stool set from my favorite vintage department store. Elan, in Long Beach is the best, best, best! It's a two-shelf personal bar with two barstools. The counter is a cool old formica design with gold sunbursts and aqua and orange confetti flecks. It has black hairpin legs and the front is upholstered in orange naugahyde with three gold and black sunburst designs in a diagonal. So fabulous. The barstools match but one has an orange seat cover with the gold sunburst design and the other is white with the confetti flecks and tiki masks. This thing was made just for me, even though it was built before I was born. I'm so happy I could scream. Actually, I did scream when I saw it. I've brought so many wonderful things home from this place that they let me put it on layaway. It'll look so fabulous with my Endless Summer poster over it.

The other thing I got there is a sideboard buffet thing from the '50's that I'm going to put my TV and bookshelf system and Vinyl player on. I am so excited about my living room. It's so soothing and makes me so happy. The only think I'll have left to do is re-upholster my sofas, but I don't think it should be too hard. I mean it's just foam and fabric and a staple gun, right? Then I just have to finish painting my bedroom and strip and paint the furniture in there. The kitchen is a mini-disaster, but I already know how I'm going to make it great. The bathroom floor is kind of an issue. I'm not sure what my bastard landlord will let me do there. I shouldn't call him a bastard. The place is a dump, but he lets me do whatever I want and he never comes around and he only charges me $650 a month. There, I've confessed. Yes I live in the Long Beach East Village and I pay less than $700 a month. Forgive me, it was a deal and I had to take it. Plus, he refinished the hardwood floors before I moved in. I guess life is good, housing-wise.

2004 is the year of the Laughing Green Monkey, or so Katrin says. I'll have to ask her what that signifies, exactly. She's cryptic sometimes.

Here are my predictions for 2004:

1. Henry Rollins will do a spoken word and also a Rollins Band tour.

2. I will have at least 2 dating disasters.

3. Fugazi will put out a record.

4. I will increase my music collection.

5. I will be talked into attending a baby shower at which I will be forced to listen to the most inane, banal chatter ever, and will have to explain to several people why I am not married and am not breeding, even though it is none of anyone's business. I will bite my tongue so many times I will have to excuse myself to the restroom where I will have to rinse the blood from mouth so I don't return to the gathering looking like the vampire several people have rumored me to be. I will vow once again to never attend another vapid tea party with these Stepfords.

6. I will get a different job outside of the healthcare field.

7. I will read a lot of interesting books.

8. I will kiss a lot of interesting boys.

9. I will travel to interesting places.

10. I will blog incessantly.



another mad ramble of The Shadow * 12:21 PM
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Tuesday, December 30, 2003

I woke up late this morning. I had to throw on some jeans and a t-shirt and run to move my car so I didn't get a ticket. Then I had to circle around the block until I found legal parking. I went back in the house and put on my meditation tape from Sri Siva. He's a good friend. He says within a year I will be way more enlightened. As long as I listen to his tapes and forgive myself. We'll see. So I was in the lazy American yoga pose on the sofa, trying to focus my attention on the inside of my right eye as Sri Siva gave me the sounds of creation. It so was not a spiritual moment. My neighbors in the back have a dog named Luli that the children just love torture until she yips and barks. The kids out front were having some kind of screaming contest and there's this man out back whom I've never seen but can tell you anything you'd like to know about his life. His wife left him because of his girlfriend. He owes someone named Clem $8,000 and will have the money when he has the goddamn money, bitch. So why you gotta keep calling here? Someone say I won the lottery? We're all hoping Clem doesn't know where he lives.

Anyway. I shut all the windows, which I hate because I always have to have at least one window open in the house. I assumed the lazy American pose again and started up Sri. He chilled me out. Then I came to work and this guy named Bruce called me and offered me another MasterCard for $2,500 limit at 8.9% with no annual or membership fees. He said I was pre-approved by Chase Manhatten bank. I told him he must have confused me with someone else, but then he rattled off my social and address. I wondered for a moment if it could be one of my ex boynonfriends pranking me. I told him if he knew my address and was serious about the offer he could send it to me in writing. We'll see what happens. I'm wishing it is a real offer. Can you imagine how many cool new shoes I could get? Think of all the books we could send Damien, Jason, and Jesse.



another mad ramble of The Shadow * 1:04 PM
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Sunday, December 28, 2003

So there's this moron who keeps saying he's my boyfriend. Whenever he sees me he says "There's my girl" like I'm his cat or something. He's always saying "so when are we going out", like it's a given that I'd spend time alone with him, which of course I would not. He keeps telling everyone he's my boyfriend, and that I'm really great in bed, and that he's asked me to marry him but that I'm stringing him along. It's really annoying and starting to be weird and it was never even slightly funny, though he thinks it's hysterical. Apparently he seems to think that because I'm not seeing anyone right now and am not a dead ringer for Pam Anderson, I should be eternally grateful for whatever male attention I get. I think he's a freak. I tried to be friendly with him at first and roll my eyes when he said his weird stuff, but now I just usually walk away from him or interrupt him while he's talking. I like to cut in by asking something really inane or kind of humiliating like have you ever had a facial? Your skin is really soft and smooth for a guy. Stuff like that. He's a freakshow.

I went out to lunch today with La Bella B(I won't tell you her name because she doesn't believe in blogging and thinks it's one of the harbingers of doom for our worthless civilization. I tend to agree with her, but can't stop blogging anyway). Guess what she was saying? She's got this semi-stalker named John Smith (that's not his real name, but it's just as generic) and he does almost exactly the same thing to her. No one in her extensive crowd knows anything about him and he basically just shows up almost everywhere and makes a beeline for her. He's always telling her how beautiful she is and how wonderful she smells. He calls her gorgeous, intoxicating, and says that she's putting him under her spell. I asked her my twenty questions and she could hardly answer any of them. She doesn't know where he works or what he does or where he came from. All she knows is that he lives somewhere in Los Feliz maybe, he's new to the area, he's almost 6 feet tall, he sometimes wears glasses, and he wants to fuck her. That's it. She can't tell me where he went to school, or his birthdate, or if he's been married, or has kids, or lives with his parents, or what music he listens to, or if he's a reader or a watcher, or why he came to California, or if he prefers chocolate or vanilla, on top or back door, or anything. She doesn't know anything about him. And can I just say to anyone who may be reading this who knows what I'm talking about that you GUYS have fallen down on the job once again. When a new girl shows up in the gang we always scope her out and get the info for you, but you guys haven't done any recon or gotten any intel on this person who is semi-stalking my friend. I have to say that it's a mighty big diappointment and I certainly will not be as free with my New Year's Eve kisses as I was with my misletoe kisses.

Why do guys stalk? I know why girls do it, but why do guys get so weird? I mean the guy who's bothering me is hardly worth mentioning because for one thing, he's way younger than me. I told him so, but then the jackass asked me exactly how old I was and has since asked me four more times even though I keep telling him I'm 87. Not only that, but he's really skinny like a girl. It would still be okay if he didn't have such a horrible personality and approach, but he doesn't know who Ian MacKaye is and if you don't know about my Ian, then we can't go out. Ever. The worst thing about this guy is that he's a baby. He gets all sarcastic and pouty and pissy and sometimes talks like a little kid when he doesn't get his way and really he should just be taken out back and bludgeoned when he's like that. No, but really. So annoying.

On New Year's Eve I'm going to meet this AKA John Smith and I'm going to find out everything important there is to know about him for my friend. It'll take me all of 15 minutes. I'll let you know how it turns out.


another mad ramble of The Shadow * 3:58 PM
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Friday, December 26, 2003

So glad I divorced practically my whole family two years ago. There's just a point at which you have to say Look, I'm not spending thousands of dollars and hundreds of hours in therapy just so I can sit here and take this shit from you, even if we share common DNA. Then when your mom starts screeching and being unreasonable and overly melodramatic about your eating, dating, and spiritual habits, you can leave her house with nary a slam of the door and drive home to your own little place with your Charlie Brown Xmas tree. Solitude is soooooooo much better than family chaos. I'm so over it. People can scream over the television all day and night for all I care. As long as I can come home to my quiet little place, put on something that makes me feel good like my mix of Nina Simone, Etta James, Maria Mckee, Betty Carter, Janis Martin, et al, light all my candles and incense and read or write in peace, then I don't really care if the world is exploding in pain right outside my door.

So I have this teen-aged niece who moved in and turned everything inside outside upside down. I tried to tell her that it wouldn't be any fun spending Xmas Eve with her grandmother. Empirical knowledge is best, I guess. But then later I had to sit there and listen to her cry about what I'd also experienced at every family gathering until two years ago. I know. I know. I know just how you feel. That's not what she wanted to hear. She's still in the no one knows my pain stage. What's my point? Is it vital I have one? Okay, then. The lesson for today is:One can never discover one's true self until one leaves the tribe to walk a new path alone. So I guess that's my point. Leave your tribe. Discover yourself. Blaze a new trail. Buy a vowel. Get a clue. Swim in your own lane. Will practice make perfect? Once I've lived a perfect life with no mistakes, will I get to never ever do it again?



another mad ramble of The Shadow * 2:29 PM
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Thursday, December 25, 2003

So last night I HAD to go to this party that was way out in the Ho-wood Hills somewhere. I don't even know where we were. It was cold and raining, and I was wearing my brand new vintage Ferragamo's with my black lace negligee dress over a pink satin slip. It's a really cute outfit, but not that great for a cold wet night. I have a chartreuse wool coat that I like to wear when it's cold enough, but it's only mid-calf and my point is that I was freezing. We had to park a gazillion miles away and then we got kind of turned around and went to the wrong house. The owner was so not understanding. He wouldn't answer the buzzer and then he came out to the gate wearing only sweatpants, thong sandals, and no shirt. He was definitely the kind of man who should always keep his shirt on at all times. Even when he's swimming or bathing, he should be fully covered as a courtesy to others. Oh, I hope I haven't put any disturbing images into your visual cortex.

So I was concerned about my Ferragamo's in the rain because I strongly believe that if a girl takes care of her shoes, they'll take care of her within their ability as soulless spiritual objects. So we finally found the right house and it was so pretty. They had floating candles in the pool and the place was so decorative, in a very Martha Stewart goes Goth Yuletide kind of way. Everyone was dressed to the nines, and the place was so festive. It made me think of the other party I had to go to, which didn't include any misletoe traditions, but had lots of pastels and Hallmark items.

We went in and they were playing the Chipmunks Christmas CD, which is okay but then my boyfriend, Henry Rollins', The Night Before Christmas came on and it made me so sad for a minute. Joe Cole mixed the sound effects on that song. It's a good piece, but it always makes me a little melancholy. So I'm standing there at the bar which was apparently some sort of game show set relic, which was kind of cool. It was all decorated with misletoe and three different boys kissed me before the one I wanted to finally did. It was nice. I like it when guys look like they're going to be all rough and then they're gentle. Not wimpy, or soft, but gentle is good. He asked me what I wanted for Christmas and I told him I wanted the West Memphis Three to be exonerated. He said he didn't know who they were. I told him the essentials and then he said "Well, people just don't confess unless they're guilty of something". I told him it was nice to meet him in a really forced, polite way and then walked out to the pool. I guess I should be glad the Universe showed me what a jerk he was before it went any further.

I had a pretty good time at the party and I got lots of misletoe kisses from cute boys and some girls. Why are guys always so exciting by two girls kissing? There was one guy there from Morocco who's here studying architecture. I told him about our marketing scheme for Soulstis and he thought it was hysterical and very "American". Why did I feel guilty about telling him? Why did I feel like I should confess to Ben that I shared our private joke, even though it can't be private after blog. If I confess does that automatically mean I'm guilty of something?

another mad ramble of The Shadow * 9:50 AM
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Wednesday, December 24, 2003

Making our blog look cute is hard. I'm not techsavvy. I importated these templates from a Brazilian site I saw that is so cool. I got a new one for The Crew, too. They are always too busy, too busy, too busy saving lives to deal with the littel details of blogging. But it's okay because I'm having fun. I have no idea what I'm doing, but I'm having fun learning. I think it's hard to convert Brazilian into American, but I thought that computer languages were all the same. Like animal languages are universal, right? I have no idea what I'm talking about either. Merry Xmas. I hope everyone gets what they want rather than what they deserve.



another mad ramble of The Shadow * 2:27 PM
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Ben called me at home last night to say that as he was extracting a foreign body, ie small happymeal toy piece, from a kid's ear he thought of me, alone in my hovel, still mad at him for misblogging. I told him I wasn't still mad, I just sounded irritated because he'd woken me from a dead sleep. I'd been dreaming that I was driving a long long black road and that all around me everything seemed really bright and fresh and green. In the dream there was that after rain smell and I was stupidly blissfully happy, like in a Meg Ryan movie. Then the phone rang and I almost fell out of bed reaching for it, and when I grabbed it I knocked over my pencil case and made a racket on the hardwood floors. Hey, were you sleeping? Why, yes dumb-ass. As a matter of fact I was. I often am sleeping at nearly three in the morning. Oh, is it that early? Jeez, it only feels like 1230 or so. This inanity continued for a few minutes, he told me AGAIN that he was sorry he misblogged and he wished me a Merry Christmas. I told him I don't really celebrate Christmas all that much and that the Solstice is more important to me. He said we should start a new holiday and call it Soulstis and that it would be a mix of Kwanzaa, Christmas, and Channukah. We could make it vegan and celebrate for 10 days of mad gift giving. Everyone could sort of trick or treat dressed as their favorite religious martyr. People could send very PC Soulstis cards to their loved ones that said things like Even though you're a tub of lard, I love you just the way you are. In the spirit of Soulstis people could confess and ask forgiveness for their most heinous sins. There would be a traditional blood, plasma, and organ drive. Young lovers would get mutual Soulstis tattoos. In some backwoods areas, where they suffer a lack of sophisticated civilization, there would be the political flogging. This would be an age-old tradition on Soulstis eve when locals would drag a hypocritical political power abuser from his home, strip him, smear him with animal dung, and beat him with willow branches until he cried like a baby with colic. Folks would outdo their neighbors in the Soulstis decorating contests by dressing up effigies, mannequins, and blow-up dolls in their front yards to depict great scandals and TV bloopers. It would become a part of Soulstis spirit to get your palms and auras read, to have a Soulstis Tarot or past life reading, to get your chakras aligned for Soulstis season. Then I said, is calling people this early in the morning part of Soulstis celebration? He said no. Sorry. Sorry again. So sorry. Then he said goodnight and hung up. I think Ben is into me. I think I may have lost enough weight in my abdominal area to warrant his attention. I think Ben doesn't realize that he's into me. Should I make him aware of his condition? Do I even want to? I don't know. I didn't get a lot of sleep last night, so I'll have to think about it.

Happy Soulstis everyone.

another mad ramble of The Shadow * 9:45 AM
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Tuesday, December 23, 2003

Some of the crew don't understand how blogging works, even though they are doctors and are allowed to cut people open and operate on their insides! Sorry about all the swearing. Actually, no I'm not. In the spirit of Lenny Bruce, if you don't like what Ben wrote then fuck you, don't read it.

another mad ramble of The Shadow * 1:19 PM
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I don't know if I'm supposed to be overjoyed that Lenny Bruce has been pardoned. It's kind of like when they let Jesse Owens have his gold medals back after all those years. It's kind of like the men my friend has to counsel for domestic violence. They always beat the hell out of their "loved ones", then later on when she's getting reconstructive maxillofacial surgery to put her face back together he gets to give his big Mea Culpa and start crying and saying how could I do this to the woman I love I'm so sorry I'll never ever ever do it again please forgive me. Vomit.

I see that my boyfriend, Henry Rollins, isn't playing locally before he leaves town. Sigh. I also notice that on his birthday he's going to be playing Columbus, Ohio. I don't know anything about Columbus, except that a giant asshole lives there. There is a bad man in Columbus named Tom Luffman and he tried to steal from my friend. He took her money and refused to send the copy of Works she paid for until she had an attorney threaten him with legal action. I saw the emails he wrote her and I heard one of the threatening messages he left on the company voicemail system. He's a bad person. I hope Henry doesn't sign any autographs for him or be nice to him in any way.

Today is Chicken Tortilla Soup day in the cafeteria. A couple of weeks ago there was a lady who got knocked down in the line. I'm not going down until I can gather my posse to watch my back.

another mad ramble of The Shadow * 12:54 PM
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So we cracked open the lameass workplace newsletter to find out that Darryl Hannah had just been to visit the children's hospital. She looks really spacey in the photos of her bedside with the kids. Some of our kids, understandably, look really pale and wasted, kind of like Iggy on a bad day. A lot of them are bald because of the chemo and all. Anyway, Miss Hannah is shown sitting next to the kids with this really dopey smile on her face. Maybe she's been kidnapped by Cecil B Demented and doesn't even know where she is. If she really wanted to make a difference she could go up to the third floor and cheer up the men who've just had coronary bypass surgery since they'd be way more likely to know who the hell she is than the kids. Has she been in trouble recently? We usually only see celebrities when they're trying to get their career out of the toilet, or they've been ordered to do community service. That's not true. We see a buttload of celebrity action during the Grand Prix in April.

We also saw that Lenny Bruce finally got pardoned for using, gasp, obscene language in NYC. What the fuck? Why the fuck does it take those cunts a goddamn 40 fucking years to pull their collective heads out of asses, lick the shit from their dicks, and catch a fucking clue? Poor bastard Lenny. He went through hell, most of it self-induced, but now at least we can all say shit damn and fuck, you bastardly cunts.

Free The WM3
The Crew

another mad ramble of The Shadow * 12:41 PM
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Saturday, December 20, 2003

So I went to this Xmas party today and it was okay, but kind of silly. I don't have any kids. I don't have a husband or domestic partner to help pay my bills. All I have is myself and guess what? It'll have to do. So I went to this Martha Stewartesque thi ng and this friend of a friend has one of the those brand spanking new Kaufman and Broad cookie cutter homes with a community pool and a HOA that won't let them put up twinkling lights unless they're white. It was surreal. I kept feeling like any minute a bouncer was going to tap my shoulder and escort me out. We drank some kind of cinnamon apple county Christmas concoction that tasted what I imagine lukewarm diluted urine might. We ate sandwiches with the crusts cut off and looked at her Christopher Radk o ornament collection. Everyone was dressed so perfectly and unoriginal. They all looked like they'd ordered their outfits straight out of an Ann Taylor catalog. I, of course, looked like I'd ordered my stuff from a clothing warehouse that sells Betsey Jo hnson and Kiki from seasons past. Anyway, one of the cutsey games the hostess made us do was to write down what we wanted to accomplish in our lives this year and then we put them into envelopes and addressed them to ourselves. She said that next year abo ut this same time she was going to mail them out to us. Oh joy. I can only imagine that next year I'll have some failures staring me right in the face in my own handwiting. That is if this woman isn't some mad alcoholic who's going to rip open our envelop es on her 50th birthday and start drunkenly mocking our wishes.

Here's what I said I wanted to accomplish in the next year:

1. I want to marry Henry Rollins.

2. I want to have Ian MacKaye's baby.

3. I want to publish a book called Punk Rock Girl documenting the female hardcore and straight-edge perspective.

4. I want to become financially stable. Not a little, bit. A lotto bit.

5. I want to open a boutique and coffee house that caters to the original hi-I'm-broke-as-a-joke-and-I-would-like-to-hang-out-here-forever-drinking-coffee-and-writing-in-my-journal-and-jumping-on-the-internet-station-and-hey-is-that-a-flyer-for-live-music-here-tonight-oh-wow-you-guys-have-a-garden-patio-and-hey-everyone-here-is-so-cool-and-unpretentious kind of crowd.

6. I want to finish my student's film about Xmas.

7. I want to make it back from Egypt alive and sane.

8. I want to congratulate my friend Jason Wishnow for winning an award for his adaptation of Oedipus Rex.

9. I want to congratulate my friend, Steve, for selling one of his screenplays for top Hollywood dollar.

10. I want to finish decorating my home because it's been almost a year and a lot of hard work, and as I said, I'm doing it all myself and I'm no Bob Vila so be careful with that lightswitch in the hallway.

11. I want to not go to any friend's weddings, funerals, or arraignments thinking that this surely must be some sort of horrible mistake.

12. I want to look in the mirror an honestly feel totally good about what I see and how I feel. Really.

13. I want to meet Damien Echols and Lorri Davis because he and Jesse and Jason have been exonerated and released and there's a huge talk show, press party type of thing going on which I've forced my friend Fritz to take me to as his date.

another mad ramble of The Shadow * 7:26 PM
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Friday, December 19, 2003

So today is the twelfth anniversary of the murder of Joe Cole. Today always gets me down. I don't know if it's the last mad rush before Xmas and the heightened shopping frenzy, but I always get all maudlin and mopey on this day. What's the point of anythi ng? Why should we continue going through the motions? Will there ever be any answers to anything, or is it all just eternal speculation? What was Joe thinking when that bullet ripped through his head? If Vedic reincarnation is true, then what did Joe do t o warrant this kind of death? Did he do something like that or worse to someone in the past? Did Henry cause someone this kind of grief and loss before? Is this fresh Karma or corrective action? I once looked up everyone I knew in the East meets West astr ology. Henry Rollins is an Aquarius Golden Rat. Joe Cole is an Aries Ox. According to the charts, it said they were a perfect match and they had to be careful as a couple not to alienate others from their special world. It said that husband and wife coupl es had to be extra careful not to shut out their children, even. Once, right before I stopped working in the ED, there was this gangbanger who didn't want to be treated. He woke up and wanted to leave, but he was only wearing a thermal blanket. He started yelling at me to find his clothes, and I tried to explain they were gone. The medics cut them off him at the scene. He jumped out of bed, buck naked and bandaged, and came at me with the IV pole. It may sound funny now, but at the moment everything kind of went still and I was scared stiff. I just couldn't move. Then Sean came from nowhere and just landed on the guy. I didn't see him or hear anything until he flew in front of me and landed right on him. I've always thought of that moment when I think of Joe Cole. He must have been so scared. But he moved and Henry got away and we'll probably never know why it happened but that it's just one of those tragic things that do. Some people say that his killer is probably dead now, too. I don't think so. I hope that worthless sack of crap is slowly dying of bone cancer, or has a low-grade excruciating gi bleed and no healthcare coverage. I hope he's a filthy, shaggy, homeless, unloved, unwanted, pariah. I hope he has nowhere safe or warm to lay his head at night. I hope his dreams are nightmares. I hope his waking hours are terrifying. I hope the only human contact he's given is a spit in the face from his own children. I know it's wrong to think this way. I know that I'm supposed to be petitioning the Universe for enlightenment, but if we are all one then this is a part of me I wish would die. And I don't mean that I wish this murderer to die so he can be born again and have another chance to learn his lessons. I mean that I wish he would suffer horribly in this life and then be cut off. LIke when you exfoliate all the dead skin cells. That would be best for someone like him. When this life is over and Henry Rollins and Joe Cole are together again, will they still set themselves apart from the rest of us? Will they still shut themselves off on Planet Joe? ˇ

another mad ramble of The Shadow * 9:35 AM
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Thursday, December 18, 2003

Damien has small, neat handwriting. The letter paper and envelope didn't match, but maybe that's a prison thing. All right, here's the pathetic reply I came up with nearly a week later.

Dearest Damien,

Thank you so much for your kind letter. It was such a nice surprise I was not expecting. I can't take credit for sending all of those books to you, however much I would like to. They were sent by a bunch of nutty people and myself and we used my credit card to order from Amazon.com.

I work at a trauma center in Long Beach, California and there is a group of us here that has followed your case for a while. Some of us have seen the documentaries and read the books regarding the case, but I haven't. The murders are too gruesome and I'm too much of a sissy. I don't care who knows it. The WM3.org website is enough information for me. I heard Mara Leveritt speak at the Sixspace gallery and she seems very intelligent and passionate about the research she did for the book. I also saw Jello Biafra speak at that benefit and it was very inspiring. I hadn't seen him in such a long time, but he still seems the same only older. The artwork was really cool and one of my favorite artists, Camille Rose Garcia, had some work there for the benefit. It was amazing and I hope you and Jason and Jesse will ever get a chance to see some of it.

We all just finished reading Broken Summers by Henry Rollins. I very much like your picture of bodhi that's in the book. I am not at all artistic and envy anyone who is creatively inclined. We just looked on Amazon.com again for your wishlist. I am glad you're getting into Shakespeare. He's one of my old time friends and the great thing about him is that no matter how many times you experience his work, there's so much depth there it can seem different each time.

I am sorry that I am not a great letter writer. I wish I could tell you something exciting or dramatic that would amuse you. There's a lot going on in my life but I don't suppose any of it would interest you. Mostly I feel that I've lived a very selfish, wasteful life. I've been trying to become the kind of person who lives a purposeful life and that's why I've tried to be supportive for you and Jason, and Jesse. We will be sending you more books after the holdiays.

The other day I was home sick from work and I spent the whole two days reading and reading. I remember that I wished I didn't have to go back to work or do anything else but lay around and read all day. The very next day I got your letter and it was as if the Universe was asking me if I wanted to trade places with you. I know you don't just lay around reading all day. I felt ashamed I'd had those thoughts. Please forgive me. I hope one day, after you are exonerated and released, that I will have the chance to meet you. You and your wife are very inspiring for me and my friends. I am meditating on your perseverance and truth.

Please also accept my thanks for surviving your situation. Last year I took my niece to see an amazing show that she wouldn't have been able to see if Henry Rollins didn't believe in you and Jason, and Jesse. She was able to hear Henry Rollins, and Keith Morris, and Chuck Dukowski perform Black Flag songs together again. I don't know if you will be able to appreciate how much it meant for me to bring her to that show, but it was very special. I read in Broken Summers that you have never been to see a show. When you are released, please allow me to send you and your wife to whatever or whomever you would like to see. It would be the very least I could do for you.

Maintain hope and peace

Carey

another mad ramble of The Shadow * 4:19 PM
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Okay, I'm going to show you Damien's letter:

Dear Carey,

I'm really, truly sorry it's taken me so long to write. I did not mean to wait 6 months. With the move to the new prison, the appeal being denied, and the huge mountain of work that I can't seem to put a dent in, time has gotten away from me. Even though there's not a chance in hell that I'll ever get caught up, I'm spending the entire weekend attempting to do tings that should have been done long ago.

I want to thank you, and let you know that your energy and money didn't just disappear into a black hole. Just your thoughts alone mean a tremendous amount. There have been quite a few times when the only thing that has kept me from losing all hope and crumbling beneath the weight of this nightmare is knowing that people out there in the 'real world' still remember, that I'm not forgotten. For that alone I can't thank you enough.

I also want to thank you for the books. I greatly appreciate it. Even though I've loved reading my entire life, it means more now than ever before. Now books are the glue that holds my sanity together. Books are my vacation, my refuge, and my sanctuary. I hide in them to go somewhere else and forget about this hell hole for a little while. That's a most valuable thing in here. Thank you very, very much.

In closing, I also want to thank you for being patient with me. I'm not the quickest writer in the world, but I didn't want you to think me ungrateful. I really, really appreciate all your help. Please take care of yourself, and I hope you are having a wonderful holiday season.

Yours,
D



another mad ramble of The Shadow * 4:08 PM
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So I had to go Xmas shopping last night after an obscene expletive day at work. It was a freak parade all day and then when I went out shopping it was worse. Things I saw: a seemingly abandoned child holding a kitten by its neck and screaming; a hugely obese woman eating chocolates from a Sees Candies box as she lumbered through Borders; A little boy self-stimming in the back of the magazine and periodicals section at Borders;a girl with a shaved head displaying a dragon tattoo that was actually really pretty, both the young girl and the artwork; an old man drooling on himself; two middle-aged homosexual gentleman loudly arguing about Peggy Lee, Connie Francis, Las Vegas, and Dean Martin, I shit you not. I also got ankle-rammed by about seven different strollers, two of which were being pushed by the toddlers who were supposed to be riding inside. I only bought what was absolutely necessary and went back to the safety of my hovel. There was a note on the door from the animal control department stating I would be ticketed for my unlicensed dog unless I could document the dog had been given its shots and I had paid all outstanding fees. I called them this morning and told them I didn't have a dog. They said the original complaint was from July of 2002 and that they were a little backlogged. I'll bet.

another mad ramble of The Shadow * 12:29 PM
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Wednesday, December 17, 2003

I don't know if I would really, really like to marry Henry Rollins. I mean, sure I'd want to have a mad passionate affair with him, but to wake up to him everyday? But then, it wouldn't be everyday. I probably wouldn't wake up to him at all, exept maybe three or four special days of the year. He's only home about two months out of twelve. He gets up at the crack of dawn to do his almighty leg workout or whatever. Then it's work, work, work. Plus, he used to date Madonna, Lydia Lunch, Kira Roessler, and Diamanda Galas, and I have it on good authority that he and Heidi May have always had the little eye-wink for each other. Who could stand in that line and still feel confident? I don't know. He's so intriguing and sexy and talented and manly and and and, okay I'll shut up before you vomit. But to actually be his girlfriend or his one and only? Such pressure! But, I'll bet he's the kind of guy who makes you feel like you're the only other person in the room when he's into you. I don't know. I know someone who used to work at Peet's coffee in Sunset and she said she was scared of him at first, you know because of the eyebrows and the intensity, but then he was her favorite customer. Always knew what he wanted, didn't jack up the line, never tried to flirt with her or anything sleazy, and always so polite. Sigh. But if Henry did find his one and only would she make him soft and cuddly? Would she polish the rough edges and spend his money on interior decorating? Would she accidentally on purpose become pregnant so that she could solidify her ties to him and her place in his life? Would she work with his publicist for cheesy family photos and interviews and guest spots on Sharon Osbourne's show? Will she use her pussy to make a pussy out of him? Oh, God I hope not. I need my Henry Rollins to be Henry Rollins. Forever and ever, amen. Maybe I should try that eharmony.com. They keep sending me ecoupons. I'll keep you posted.

another mad ramble of The Shadow * 12:54 PM
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Tuesday, December 16, 2003

So you wanted to know about the bifurcation of reality? It's a little complicated. Okay, so you're all hip on the Vedic grid theory? Cool. So reality is what we make it, really. Why is the sky blue? Because we all agree that it is on so many levels that it cannot be otherwise. If we all believed from a spiritual and cellular level that it was orange, that's what we would see. So. The world vibrates at the frequency of 7-8 cycles per second. This is what Boehm theorized when he discovered that 7-8 times per second humans leave their dimensional confines and then return to semi-solid form. As the world is vibrating at an ever increasing frequency the electromagnetic grid is diminishing. Gravity is still intact, but the EM grid is fading to zero. Time is speeding up and the HU man is vibrating at a higher frequency also. Once the EM grid fades to absolute zero, the molten core at the center of the Earth will stop spinning and all bets are off. For approximately 72 hours the Earth will stand still, refusing to spin. That is when, in theory, the poles will reverse and the outer crust will shift. North will be almost South. Everything should shift about 30 degrees. Then, hopefully the molten core will kickstart again and the world will start spinning, but the frequency will be at 13, the next number on the Fibonacci scale.

As the poles are getting ready to do this, so are we. Just like when an embryo is formed and the chromosomes divide, so does everything else. The enlightened are seeking enlightenment, the evil are slipping further into darkness. As the spiritually inclined people become ever more spiritually minded, so do the materialistic seek out shallow pleasures and stimulations. The poles divide. The bifurcation of reality is that those who are like minded will not be able to mingle in the midst of those who are not oriented as they. The vapid vacants will fade into selfish materialism and not notice those who are seeking enlightenment and are capable of post formal thought and personal life application. At this special time in the universe as the extremes become isolated from each other each group will have ever less influence on each other. Thus, one group may seem to fade away into their own reality. This will be different than an individual who is insane or drug-enhanced and wanders off the reality track into isolation. Actually it should be that as groups who create their own reality pockets fade off from the general consensus, neither will realize what has happened. To each group there will be no interruption of the norm. As the enlightenment seeking fade away, there will be ever less enlightenment seekers to contribute to general reality and thus it will slip ever further towards the catastrophic predictions.

So, maybe all that positive thinking could be beneficial towards the HU man. Everyday in everyway I am getting better and better. Say it with me, everyone. The fate of the world is at stake. No, really I swear. I read it on a webzine. Check those crop circles, if you don't believe it.

another mad ramble of The Shadow * 2:15 PM
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Monday, December 15, 2003

Yesterday I saw a rainbow. Just thought I'd mention it.

another mad ramble of The Shadow * 12:43 PM
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Friday, December 12, 2003

I can't figure out how to respond to Damien. A little note saying hello how are you what have you been up to lately everything here is fine just isn't appropriate. I've been thinking all day and I feel so inadequate. I'll have to meditate on it. Please vibrate your thoughts towards my energy. I need help in this and I don't care who knows it.

another mad ramble of The Shadow * 12:33 PM
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Thursday, December 11, 2003

I came home from the doctor's office to find a letter waiting for me. It was from Damien Echols. It was quite a surprise because I wasn't expecting anything. I just checked on Amazon.com and all the of the WM3 wishlists are empty. I wanted to send them each something for Christmas. I guess being a Buddhist that Damien probably won't be celebratng such an American holiday, but a gift's a gift. This letter came to me as such a reminder. Sometimes I feel so fat and lonely and lost and sorry for myself. A letter from Damien is kind of like the universe breaking into my pity party and asking if I'd like to change places with someone in prison and the answer is no. Definitely no, thanks. I also received an e-mail back from Henry Rollins. I'm not in the habit of e-mailing him and that was the first time, so I was very surprised that he wrote me back also. I checked my horoscope and that's what it said. Letters are answered, calls are returned. I thought it was talking about me doing those things, but I guess not. I need some financial advice. I don't know if Suze Orman is available, but may I can get Warren Buffet on the phone. So I guess I'll write Damien back now.

another mad ramble of The Shadow * 5:47 PM
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Wednesday, December 10, 2003

So I had to call off work today because I vomited a teeny bit of blood. It was a bit gross, but hey it got me out of that mind numbing gig for a day. Let's make the most of it. I told Dr. Christensen that I needed a miracle pill that energizes as it immunizes. I'm looking for a little pill that tastes like sugar and safely liquifies all the excess fat I have in the wrong places, but won't take any off my breasts or make my cheeks look sunk in. I want something that will make me diligent about excersize and meditation and journaling. A pill that will make me go on dates with guys I like without worrying about what they think of my looks. I asked him if he could just give me a placebo and lie to me about all the wonderful effects this new pill has. He wasn't into it. He couldn't see my vision of the future of placebo medicines. Oh well. I guess I'll have to do it all without the magic pill. The meditation for this month focuses on body issues and self esteem. Say it with me kids: Sityam, Shivam, Sundarum. Very good boys and girls.

another mad ramble of The Shadow * 10:59 AM
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Tuesday, December 09, 2003

Last night we watched Battlestar Galactica. I hope it's good. It's looks fairly big budget. I did a spell a couple of weeks ago. I'm not sure about the results, but tonight ladies and gentleman I'll be back at the altar. So, you wanted to hear about the binary soul theory? Okay. How can someone be reincarnated and also be haunting a place? Let me explain.

When a soul decides to incarnate into a personality and live a life it is doing so by agreement in order to burn off karma and learn from the life so as to move along the wheel. During a lifetime, if a person is not connected to Source and doesn't know what they're doing as far as living a life purpose, they can suffer extreme trauma and confusion at death. The soul will move on and reincarnate, shedding the consciousness like a snake sheds it's skin. The consciousness is the shadow, the wraith, the fetch, the dark spirit, the taibhse, the discordant, the haunted, a ghost. Some of these are so emotional, still disturbed, maybe frightened, confused, or just plain refusing to move on that they linger and search out energy. They draw electrical, electromagnetic, and personal energy. Eventually, if there's no energy to draw, the consciousness fades away. However, when anyone thinks of a person who has died, the energy of that consciouness is drawn to the person thinking of it as if it has been called. So, how to live so that when one dies one is whole and the consciousness moves along with the soul? Is this why only some remember past lives and others don't, as the consciousness is the holder of memories and emotions and the soul retains a blissful amnesia? Hmmmmm.

another mad ramble of The Shadow * 11:22 AM
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Monday, December 08, 2003

I'm a little compulsive today because I have a new toy and it's a slooooow news day. Topics this week will include the binary soul theory and my thoughts on that because I know this bloggity blog is just salivating to hear my commentary on that subject. Later on I'll share with you thoughts on the bifurcation of reality. That's one of my favorite topics. I'll also tell you the theory of swimming. Because this is a sharing and caring show, that's why.

another mad ramble of The Shadow * 12:25 PM
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I'm upstairs now. Life is barely tolerable up here. I've started researching a Chinese herb that allegedly makes you lose weight faster than a crack whore. Hopefully it doesn't have the same side effects as all the other weightloss bullshit I've tried. Side effects usually include, but not limited to:nervousness, dry mouth, insomnia, shortness of breath, cardiace dysrythmia, cardiac palpitations, vision disturbance, tantrums, irrational thinking, inability to keep track of time, appointments, things to do, seemingly mysterious loss of monies, and a spotless kitchen and bath. I'll take lipolysis for a 1000, please. What is impossible without exercise, cachexia, or diabetic imbalance?

another mad ramble of The Shadow * 11:36 AM
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It's Monday morning. I have an appointment with my therapist at Five. My boss asked if I would like to come in early today. Foolishly I agreed. This means that instead of working in my regular office alone behind a closed door, I am in the bullpen with the rest of the animals. So far today I saw an enormous woman beating the hell out of her three-year old for spilling hot chocolate. I told the cow I was a social worker here at the hospital, a favorite white lie I use on ignorants, and that if she didn't want me starting paperwork she better knock it off. She became completely docile and said she was really sorry in a little girl voice. It was very creepy.

another mad ramble of The Shadow * 8:26 AM
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Saturday, December 06, 2003

Welcome to the Jade Cafe. Have a seat and shut your mouth. I'm doing the rambling here and you're going to listen for once. I may tell you something shocking, somthing amusing, something unbelievable. You won't tell me a damn thing and I'll be glad to listen. Once I leave the stage, the spotlight will dim out and you'll be left sitting there alone in the darkness until I return.

another mad ramble of The Shadow * 8:45 PM
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