Friday, July 1, 1994 My neighbor worked in his garden today. Weeding. You could hear him go- ing at it even as it got too dark to see him. Earlier he was crouched down, on the tips of his toes, a child, may 2 or 3, astraddle a thigh, one arm around the child, the other arm relentlessly chopping at weeds with a hoe/pick-like tool. The child kept wanting to get down and stand on the ground. He would start to put the kid down... and then the kid wants to get back on his thigh. I continue to take a picture a day of the garden from out my back window here. Something at the back of the garden and way over to the left, and almost out of sight, was harvested a few days ago. The potatoes look about ready. Speaking of potatoes, I am reminded of Polish potato vodka. Some of which made its way into a glass of orange juice which was sitting in front of me at the table in M's kitchen. So, naturally, I drank it. The beans, rice, and a hotdog suffered a similar fate. She says it was good vodka. But my experience with GOOD vodka has been that it always disappears in the orange juice--provi- ded it really is GOOD vodka. But then it was made from potatoes--by Poles, no less (and no more). We grew potatoes on the farm in Wyoming. But we never made vodka from them. Apples, on the other hand, frequently found their way into hard cider. And speaking of Wyoming, M asks if the Book of Wyoming development contin- ues. Yes. In fact, a recent New York Times provided an item to go into the next edition. It seems a recent Miss Wyoming sued Penthouse magazine. The magazine's lawyer recent died. His obit mentioned her court case. So, natur- ally, containing the word Wyoming, it goes in the next edition. My original reason for the visit to bring M & V (also known as not(Alex)) their latest care package of newspaper & magazine print materials. They live in some combination of pre-tv and pre-print world, but include film and the Internet. Hey, go figure! So I take it upon myself to scrounge material from the world of print, collect it in a file folder (and the truth is that I am guilty of doing this for a number of people), and deliver or mail it to them every now and then. It was time. And now it is finished till the next time. My favorite shoe repairman in Inman Square had a new story for me. First off, though, you should know he is a real Native American, from Alaska. An Eskimo who hunted and fished, not unlike me, in his youth. Somehow he ended up repairing shoes in Cambridge. But then I ended up writing here, on the Inte- net! Hey, go figure! Anyway, he was easily able to repair C's bag--which she was certain could not be repaired and so had to be thrown out. I claimed he could do it. And he did. So the new story is about dancing. The 1992 Massa- chusetts Ballroom dancers competition, or something like that. He's watching the winners from the previous year's competition. Something about it didn't feel right to my eyes, he said. I can do better than that, he said. He ex- plained to me that there was something wrong with the movements, the rhythm, the positions of their bodies. So he found a woman, who just happened to be married. He goes to the husband and proposes that they practice for the next competition. I didn't want the husband to think I had a dirty mind, he told me. So he agrees. They practice, enter the competition, and... 1992 Massachu- setts Tango Champions! He also sells fishing equipment in his shop. In previous years he was also quite a camera collector and photographer. And, of course, he repairs shoes. His shop is a couple of doors down from the Inman Square Postoffice, nearly across the street from the S & S Restaurant. Tell him the CIA economist who makes frequent visits to Austria and East Bloc countries, sent you. Wednesday, July 6, 1994 Walking from Porter Square to Harvard Square I see, up ahead of me, a woman walking a dog. We reach an intersection about the same time as the two of them are stopped at the corner. One can hear a conversation going on. As I am opposite them, the woman and the dog, the woman says to the dog something like "look deep down inside your doggie brain and try to figure it out". I de- cide to continue on rather than learn the issue being contested. Some moments later I look back and see the two of them are walking again, in the same direc- tion as me. For a moment there is a small stab of fear that passes through me. Email from one of my readers who will, no doubt, some day be a famous actor, and who I imagine myself to have "shaped" to a small degree: From: Subject: permanent move Date: Sun, 19 Jun 1994 01:42:02 -0500 (CDT) Yes, it is. I may end up leaving to study somewhere for awhile or may get cast in something somewhere else, but basically this is as permanent as permanent can mean for me. I did it, left my home to try to make more art. And for the last week I've been as happy as I have been in my whole life I think. I'm getting to spend nearly the entire day doing things I like with people I like, getting to act with people I love. Women, about everyone really, like me. There are women I like. There are women I like who like me,enough that I can say no to some. And I'm taking so much better care of, paying so much more attention to, my body. I feel like a girl looks the morning after she's had really good sex, you know. I can't stop jumping up and down all day,touching everyone. I'm not afraid of going to sleep. I'm actually tiring myself into sleep. And damn it, I've learned to juggle in about 4 hours of practice time, and I'm enormously proud of that. And I was the first person ****** asked to be in the next play. And people I really respect keep telling me how much they love what I'm doing on stage. I hope this doesn't sound conceited. I'm really so humble and grateful about all of this. I'm sure there will be moe dark nights ahead, and I justwant to fully appreciate the good ones. Date: Sun, 19 Jun 94 01:44:29 CDT From: Subject: last message Could you forward me a copy of that last message I sent you about how happy I. From: Subject: artsnet Date: Wed, 29 Jun 1994 16:59:44 -0500 (CDT) I am putting together a proposal to network the Live Theatre League of Tarrant County. I would offer online access to all script libraries, costume and props inventories, technical and creative talent database, classes, jobs openings, calandars, grant opportunities, announcements, e-mail. Currently, the LTL is trying to sell memberships to individuals rather than just to the theatres, but only two individuals have bought memberships ($10/yr, I believe), probably because all you get now is a quarterly newsletter. I believe that a BBS would be of enough value to generate a lot of new members, and I think the theatres will be willing to pay for this service because it would be really useful and not just snazzy. What I--and the LTL--must decide is whether they want to purchase the hardware and hire a sysop or contract the hardware and services. Also, how many phone lines, whether access will be open--initially and long-term--to just the theatres, to all of the paid individual members, or to anyone who wants to pay, opening the door to services for other art forms besides theatre. Currently, The Star-Telegram runs a large on-line info service called Star-Text, $10/mo, but it offers no arts info beyond what is found in the regular paper. I have seen a listing for an arts BBS in Dallas but have not called it yet. I will shortly. I have not yet found anyone who has ever called either service. Where are the intellectual women under 30? Do they all move away? My female friends are a 21 yr. old rising UT senior who's great but a saint compared to me (and has a boy friend) and maybe capable of but not used to or really prepared for someone as intense as I am; my 28 yr. old voice teacher who's great but married; and a bright, beautiful 15 yr old whose age and innocence naturally limit what we can talk about. (She's starting to wear things she knows I'll like. Is that OK as long as I'm good? I don't think she's daring/experienced enough to make things interesting/difficult, but I haven't had a friend that young since I was in HS. There are others, others I could fuck, but not really others I can talk to. We should open a school to develop young women who are intellectual artist saintly she-rats. Systematically. I've been flirtatious but sensitive since I've been back, and it's just boring me to death. I think it's only a matter of time before I become more ruthless again. Pat, how do you stay sober? Is it your girlfriend (I know I've met her but her name has escaped me for the moment-- Melissa)? Well, enough for now. Let me know what you think. Whatever. -- "Pleased to meet you, hope you guess my name." To: cc: rgardner@charon.MIT.EDU Subject: stuff... Date: Fri, 01 Jul 94 14:17:22 EDT >From your latest post I see you are acquiring a life with all the complexity and peculiarness of an adult. Who was it who said: "Oh what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive." Remember that especially with enamored 15 years olds! May I use your latest post in The Cambridge Chronicles? Should I edit all your old **** addresses? Have you seen The Art DEADLINES List?: The Art DEADLINES List is a list of competitions/contests From: Subject: Re: stuff... Date: Tue, 5 Jul 1994 16:53:38 -0500 (CDT) You may indeed use my last message. I am very confident that none of the people I refer to use the internet and probably don't have friends on your list either. -- "Pleased to meet you, hope you guess my name." Thursday, July 7, 1994 Ricardo likes to talk to me about warplanes, high-tech weapons, and the world political scene. Every now and then we go off onto something more philo- sophical. Today, for example. We started out with the usual. North Korea and their bomb. He's convinced it is a problem. Nah. So they have a few. The worst they can do is set them off in a big city or two around the world. New York, Boston, Washington, etc. And then things are over for them. All of North Korea gets turned into a parking lot covered with low-grade glass. The real problem, I explain to him, is all the nuclear material held by the old Soviets and internal interests that want to sell it for money or mischief in the world. It could be that way, he thinks. My companion in this conversation has a serious problem. He is an addic- tive substance abuser. Mainly alcohol. And then there are the emotional prob- lems that he always sees as originating in his being alone as a child. He has no father--that he knows, anyway. And has always felt alone with his mother. He wants to tell me about a better life after the one he has now. No. This is it, I tell him. But isn't it possible, he insists. No. You are finished after this one. It just seems likely, he continues, that something, like the spirit, lives on. No. There is no such thing I tell him. We enter a short time where he turns my rejection of the possibility of his idea being true into a rejection of him personally. There is the insinuation on his part that I somehow imagine my shit to smell better than his. He goes on, getting more and more agitated with the feeling that I think myself superior to him, and thus my idea about an afterlife superior to his. I continue to just listen. He calms down. There is a pause. Well, I say, there is one possible way that you can inhabit the universe after you die. He wants to know. Some day, probably a long time from now, our sun will explode. This will send the atoms of all of us off into space, and to new worlds and new suns. And we will be there in the form of atoms that once made up our bodies. But without awareness, he asks. Yes. There won't be any pain, he wants to know. No. I won't be alone, he asks. No. I won't be conscious, he wants to know. No, I say. He wants to know if there will be any longing for things in this state. No, I say, because then you will have the whole universe. Now you have only your body and the thoughts inside it. Things are better between us now. He is completely calmed down. It is time for him to go. There is some soup waiting for me in a crock- pot, he explains. I tell him about the Buffalo in Yellowston Park. Every now and then one of them falls into a geyser or hot spring. For weeks after there is the smell of a giant pot of soup that spreads for miles. Ricardo isn't his real name. That is the first name of a movie actor. I then jump to a movie in which this person appears. Something in the name of the movie, or the theme, is related to the actual name of the person who is the object of today's story. Tuesday, July 19, 1994 email to m: Do you live near Brentwood? Date: Mon, 18 Jul 94 14:52:05 PDT From: M Not really NEAR Brentwood. 10 miles or so geographically, but lightyears spiritually. I actually rather hope Odge didn't do it, mainly to spite the bloody mediaocrities [sic]. (I noted in passing but didn't bother to comment at the time that you appeared to have accepted too much of the sensation- alism that passes for reportage these days at face value in your soliloquy on the topic the other week. Myself, I didn't believe 'em even before the coroner's report turned the white nightgown into a black dress.) Not that I'm at all confident of his innocence/non-guilt, of course; just that I'm sickSICKS*I*C*K of having the public subjected to the filtering of information through the kidneys of anchorpretties, and would be delighted to see them eat some crow. (Not that they would even if it turned out unequivocally that somebody else did it, I fear....) Did YOU know the white nightgown was a black dress, b/t/w? cheers, m To: m Subject: mediaocrities,etc Date: Tue, 19 Jul 94 00:42:18 EDT I've been reading about the oj story mainly on the Internet. And reading some newspaper accounts in TBG & NYT. I've seen none of the TV. NPR provides minimal coverage because they have more important things to report. And since I listen mainly to NPR, oj is a small part of what I know. My recollection is she was wearing a dress. No shoes. Black underwear. Her keys were found outside. >From the rest of the story, prior to the murders, it seems most likely oj did it. A classic case. After the Stuart case here in Boston, however, one has to pause to think that there is more than meets the eye--but even in the Stuart case it probably was the husband who did it. I accepted the reports purely for the purpose of making arguments about how the event might have actually happened. As new reports came in I modified my proposed scenarios. These were posted on alt.fan.oj-simpson I've been a true-crime mystery fan for years. I can live with his being guilty or innocent. It is hard for my mind not to go to work on all the tantalizing clues. It seems to me that the best thing to happen to the media is for them to continuously report facts wrong, get whacked for it, maybe a lawsuit or two for damaging reputations, etc. But it seems unlikely anything else will happen as it is really the public that drives this thing. NPR's audience hasn't, as far as I know, increased because of their approach. The rest of the media is just trying to stay on the leading edge of the maddened crowd. Tell me what you know about the white/black nightgown/dress. And where were you on the evening of June 12, 1994? In groups of animals, monkeys, baboons, lions, horses, meerkats, etc, a commotion brings all their attentions around the news. It really is just herd mentality. I can make some bio/evolutionary arguments for why it would be so. We really aren't that far from it, either geographically or spiritually. Date: Mon, 18 Jul 94 22:14:50 PDT From: M Subject: Re: mediaocrities,etc I don't recall where I was on the evening of June 12, 1994, but am extremely confident it wasn't Brentwood. Last time I was consciously there was >30 years ago; my late father's late bestman lived there. The clothing point is that initial 'press' (p- and e-, I believe) reports [make that 'reports'] had her in a white nightgown, and a week or two later the coroner's report was said to have had her in a black dress-- with no note taken by Them of the difference, which was, of course, like night and cloudy day. But then nobody else seems to have noticed the imbecility of the juxtaposition of 'The whole world is listening to us' and 'There's somebody at the door. Bernie, you hide in the closet and I'll get under the bed' from the Whozis Hotel in Downtown Babylon, or wherever the hell 'Desert Storm' was being telecast from [on CNN, of course].... Hrmph. chrs, m p.s. A CHN 'Factoid' for you: 'Wyoming schools have 8.3 computers per student, the lowest ratio in the nation.' (I GUESS lowest means best.) To: m Subject: CHN Factoid,dress,Cyber Sleaze Date: Tue, 19 Jul 94 01:51:26 EDT Dont your mean 8.3 students/computer? What color did the dress/nightgown eventually turn? Do you subscribe to the Cyber Sleaza Report? Here is a recent issue: Date: Mon, 18 Jul 1994 00:20:14 -0400 From: root@mtv.com (The CSLeaze List) Subject: Today's Cyber-Sleaze Report To: csleaze@mtv.com Note:If you no longer wish to receive Cyber Sleaze, send mail to Date: Tue, 19 Jul 94 11:39:20 PDT From: M Subject: Re: CHN Factoid,dress,Cyber Sleaze What a peculiar way to consume bandwidth. Isn't Adam Curry a familiar name? In the computer racket, perhaps? To: m Subject: Adam Date: Tue, 19 Jul 94 20:40:54 EDT Whoa! Boy the culture has really subverted you. He is a name--in pop/youth culture. But then there could be someone with the same name in the computer racket. May I use our back-and-forth in a chapter of The Cambridge Chronicles? You will be, simply, m, of course. I really enjoy his nearly daily reports. Anything about Sharon or Madonna does it for me. Is there a hotel near where you live if Cindy and I come out there for a visit--to you and others? Or do you have space for two--and don't tell me if you have space only for one! Date: Tue, 19 Jul 94 17:51:55 PDT From: M Subject: Re: Adam Chronicle away. The Thatcher Room is available at many times, though not next month. (So- named because it was once stayed in for a couple of days by Atilla the Hen's seconcousin once-removed.) No antismoking bigots need apply, of course. chrs, m 'Cindy'? b/t/w. Wednesday, July 20, 1994 email from Chris: I imagine you've heard (since you listen to NPR as I do) that OJ is offering $500,000 to anyone who provides information leading to the arrest of the the killer or something along those lines. I wonder, will he pay someone in the event that he/she (the witness) provides info leading to the conviction of himself (OJ)? Or is OJ only planning to pay to convict someone else? How much mileage can the defense likely get out of the psychological profile and background of the cop who found the matching bloody glove on the Simpson estate? I read the cop was on record as saying he was addicted to violence and was nearly thrown off the force. Assuming they can find any untainted jurors at all, what are they likely to make of this (and I'm sure this is just the first of many such stories the defense will throw at them)? I'm a little disturbed by the media's handling of the case in so far as they show little compassion for the participants/victims, but it's a damn interesting case. If it were a novel, it would blow Grisham out of the water. It's not just because it involves celebrities. It's intellectually challenging. And the defense team is certainly intellectually challenging. Waiting for their next move is like waiting for Santa. Actually, it's more like it was waiting for the next episode of Twin Peaks. Only better than fictitious mysteries because no one author has control of the info flow. The press and public learn the (alleged) facts nearly as quickly as the prosecution and so have a much better chance (than when reading a typical mystery where the key facts are invariably withheld to maintain the suspense) of solving the mystery before the final verdict (which interestingly, has become, perhaps, more important than whodoneit in real life). -- "Pleased to meet you, hope you guess my name." And now, back to you, Richard... The money might go into some sort of escrow account where an in- dependent party has control. This independent party would then de- termine if the conditions had been met--then pay the appropriate person/people. And, theoretically, the money could go for finding OJ guilty. But that sounds too much like normal life--so it will pro- bably be screenwritten first. Have you read any of my speculative scenario posts on the news- group alt.fan.oj-simpson? If not, I can send them. Let me know. Suppose all the stuff about the cop is true. Addicted to vio- lence, racist, near mental breakdown, etc. And then he says that it is all true--it WAS all true. He has gotten a grip on himself, is working to overcome these things (hey, this is California, after all!), and wants one day to find the honest, objective, committed public servant he was on his first day. Then that idea from the defense is turned on its head. This scenario could also be complete fiction. We are writing fiction, aren't we? Compassion for the victims? What does that mean? They are real dead and will stay that way for a long time. Their families, on the other hand, seem to be treated with kid gloves--and that is as it should be. I suspect that anybody who screws around with these families will quickly be converted to hamburger--and that is as it should be. The media aspect I find most interesting is that millions of people are speculating about what happened. Somebody is going to be coming up with, or maybe a group of people will come up with, a very plausible scenario that puts all the facts together, and, perhaps, leads on to some new avenues of investigation that solves the case. One story on the Internet is dozens, maybe hundreds, going over all the areas or routes the killer(s) might have taken and what they might have done with evidence, etc. This could become the new national sport/pastime. Something like a giant virtual reality video game. Scenarios could be proposed, maybe voted on. A history established, etc. There has been talk of an oj.FAQ! Maybe a scenario like this could even lower the murder rate. Some murders would be stopped just by the idea that millions of people, no, make that: The Whole World Is Watching! But you may be way too young to understand that last bit. Finally, I think he did it, and there may be one really good thing that comes from this: the end of the death penalty. Slavery was ended. No vote for women was ended. Time to put the death penalty in the dustbin of history. Imagine if Gallileo had been put to death! Time passes. Finally, one of the Popes has to say it: Oops! Um, sorry about that. In my heart I have felt the urge to do in various of the murderous criminals one reads about. Certainly I know that would be my feeling involving anyone personally close to me. But would the world be a better place if we went back to slavery, or disenfranchised women? The history of humans is full of things that need to be ended. The death penalty is still on the list of things to go. OJ is the sort of person that death penalty advocates would stand up for. And if not him, then why anyone else? Is there somebody waiting who did something more heinous? Or is the only difference his fame and friends? Thursday, July 21, 1994 Harvard Square post office. Sorting through my mail. A couple comes into the area where my box is located. At first I am only conscious that they are talking continuously. Then something else becomes apparent. Every word and sentence that passes between them is a challenge, an accusation, a compe- tition, an attempt to one-up, or prove the other wrong. The woman adds some combination of hysteria and incredulity to her words. The man adds an arro- gant calmness, lowering his voice as though he is the person in charge, the one who keeps his cool all the time. Meanwhile, every word is attack, attack, attack! Then the other has to point out the fault of the statement plus in- sert their on new assault/accusation. They argue about how the numbers for boxes are derived, where the boxes will then be located, the number of pieces of mail removed from the box, and on and on. I begin to be overcome by fear and imagine that their back-and-forth can't escalate any further, and that one of them will, finally, have to pull out an automatic weapon and end the con- versation. But it goes on. The last argument is over whether or not one can leave one's key in the box. Or something like that. Fortunately it sounds as though they reach another stalemate and their is something to each side of the corresponding argument. Neither gains the upper hand in any of the little fights they begin. Did they leave first or did I? Can't remember. The sound of what might be their constant life keeps echoing in my head. Fortunately, I think, for some other combination of two people, these two found each other! These two people have managed to create their own psychopath carnival funhouse ride from hell! Wasn't it Sarte who said that hell is other people? Meta MegaHype Corporation is the name of my new film production company. Our first full-length, feature film will be titled, "Crossing The Street". It will be a combination of the history of, techniques, and timely tips on cros- sing the street. Integrated into the movie will be a number of product place- ments for top-of-the-line products manufactured, in America, of course, for crossing the street. The main characters will have a romantic interest that plays itself out in a unique way that has never before been seen. Their is a mystery character played by one of the biggest names in modern cinema. Cast- ing and revision of the screenplay continues. Advice, suggestions, and com- ments are welcome.