movin'

I have an internet stalker, so I'm moving my blog elsewhere. Those of you who know me can leave me your contact info and I'll tell you where if interested. I will use this space to post the things the creep sends me (per kevin's advice) so if I wind up dead in an alley some place, the cops will know where to look. There have been dozens more, but I deleted them because they creeped me out. Keep in mind that I only respond to tell him to leave me alone, which obviously doesn't work out very well.

His name is Tim, his myspace is here

http://www.myspace.com/airtim

He has done this to multiple girls I know, not quite sure why. But I have a feeling there is no logical explaination. But, yes, I no longer feel safe and that's fucked up. I wish I didn't delete some of the older ones, these are just him telling me how fat I am. I am going to go cry myself to sleep over it now.

------------

Jenny

There's more to life than just feeling comfortable. You've complained bitterly about men who don't really care about your thoughts or feelings. I am a person who actually wanted to get to know more about your ideas and thoughts. I'm someone sho has really wanted to get to know you as a person. That's why I tried to communicate more with you.

Maybe I've challenged your writing and philosophies. But, that can be a good thing. You have evolved your writing style as a result of some things that I've said. And, that is how people change and grow for the better.

If you really hate me that much then I accept that. But, it shows you to be small minded as a personality. You never could take constructive criticism in a healthy manner. I certainly don't believe now that you are as good or as generous person as I had thought that you were. I had indeed idealized you in my mind to be somthing more than you actually are in reality. That may be the problem. You know deep down that you aren't what you advertise.

I had to write this last note to let you know how I feel about things now. If you really are worried about being harassed then simply click the "Block User" button on myspace. Maybe you didn't notice that. Don't pretend to be such a victim. Myspace is set up so you can control who messages you.

But, I don't think you're worth my time anyway. I hear that you've been gaining about 10 pounds of weight per month or so. I don't think that I want to see what you look like now. I hear from the grapevine that you've become a bit too hefty for my taste. Bon Voyage fatso.

Tim P

Jenny

I talked with a few people about you and a few people told me that when a woman absolutely ignores a person in such an extreme fashion that it usually indicates that she secretly wants that person's attention. And, that made a lot of sense to me. The more you ignored me the more I began to think about you.

So, I now realize that you really were obsessed with me all along. This made me feel better knowing the truth of things.

I know now that you're a bit messed-up in the brain. You could be bi-polar according to the people who have seen your blog. So, now things make sense as far as you loving me one minute and hating me the next minute. I've dated a bi-polar woman before and she was just as mixed up as you are about life and people.

So, I guess that I am not really qualified after all to help you in your depressions and inability to have relations with men. Your illness runs too deep.

Good luck in the future. Try not to gain too much weight. I saw the pictures of you in New York and I nboticed that you looked like a much heftier version of your old self from last year. You better use only your old pictures online if you want to catch a man. Double chins and super-wide thighs will not catch you anything.

I guess that you might be the over the hill loser after all . . . even though you're only twenty four years old! You sure looked like it in your latest New York pictures.

Love,
Tim P

Jenny

I think that if you enjoy local theater then you might want to see this performance of "Emma" which is coming to the Trap Door Theatre October 18th, 2007. It will run Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights at 8pm through ..he Trap Door has been my favorite local theater company that delivers amazing shows at affordable prices. A woman named Beata Pilch will play the role of Emma. Beata is the artisitic director of Trap Door and she is a dedicated, exciting and very talented actress and director.

I thought you'd be interested in this show because the description states that Emma was a female anarchist, proponent of free speech and of birth control at a time before women's rights. And, Beata is certain to go on a theatrical rampage in her portrayal.

Trap Door is also the theater where I saw "Garden Of Delights" performed -- and, that was an astounding show.

The cost of the show is only $20.00 per person. Thursday evenings are 2 for 1 admission which comes to only $10.00 per person. That's an incredible deal when you consider the quality of the performances.

If you are interested let me know and I will pay for the cost of tickets of you and your friends to see the show. it's best to make reservations of course.

PS. I enjoyed your use of the dash ( -- ) punctuation in your latest Sun Times Lifestyles story. But, the most accurate use of it was in the final use at the end of the column. Of the four times you used the dash I felt that the first and last usages were the most precise usages.

I hope to hear from you again sometime.

Tim P

bloody sunday (and i don't mean bloody mary's!)

Well, it has been a bizarre weekend in Chicago. Not only was it 88 degrees today—the hottest October 7 ever on record in this city—but people have been dying like crazy.

I worked all weekend, per usual, and could not sleep at all last night after reporting on 6 fatal shootings, accidents and generally bad situations. I kept tossing and turning, convinced some sniper was outside my window or some creep was itching to drag my corpse into the river.

Today was no better. More deaths, one in the marathon, which was really sad. 302 people hospitalized. Craziness. Despite all that, Tracey and I seriously discussed training for the marathon. Lord knows I need to go for a series of runs.

(I’m supposed to be leaving here in a few minutes? Why am I writing this instead of packing up my things and reading Perez Hilton?)

Ok…real quick:

Still have retarded crush on person I shouldn’t.

Have a bajillion stories I’m working on, sucking out any tiny bit of spare time I have.

Kelly moved out. Which is tragic in several ways.

Robin’s back! Yesss.

I have recently somewhat rekindled a very old flame. Not sure what to make of it yet. Don’t really have time to dwell on it, honestly. But it’s nice. That’s all I’m sayin’ about that.

Oh, and I’m 24.

(Don’t feel a day over 23.)

traffic control

Although I slept until 12:30 p.m., today was a success thus far. I replied to the 15 emails that have been patiently starred in my inbox and bought music…which I have been itching to do for about a month now but too damn broke to do anything about.

I bought Gulag Orkestar and the Lon Gisland EP by Beirut--whose newest album I am waiting for patiently.

I also picked up the Please Clap Your Hands EP from the Bird and the Bee, which is very fun.

Vinyl-wise, I got some much-needed Betty Davis, Wilson Pickett and Billie Holiday’s Solitude. I found a bunch more stuff that I wanted, but had to contain myself. Until next week, at least.

Music makes me so happy. I don’t understand people who don’t get excited about music…or films…or books. There is all this wonderful stuff out there (sure, there’s shit too) to make our usually mundane lives more interesting--why not experience it?

Speaking of films, I saw 2 Days in Paris (Julie Delpy’s latest) last week, after another one of my meltdowns. I took my mopey ass to Landmark, got myself a box of Snowcaps and sat in the empty theater--until a cute boy came in. He turned to me and said “I knew it would be packed in here, but this is crazy.”

I laughed and was slightly embarrassed of the makeup that was all over my face from sobbing and the chronic sniffling that followed. The movie was good though--funny, true to life (the relationship part at least) and it did the trick, which was to get me to stop crying for an extended period of time.
I really want to see Traded, a new movie about sex trafficking in Mexico City. I think I just might take Beth to see it tomorrow after work.

So, I’m trying to think of a way to disguise this blog while taking the archive with me. But I want to be able to make some of the archived entries private. I just worry sometimes about whether or not it will have an effect on work and I also worry for my safety--since I’m usually pretty up front about what I do/where I go. This is not smart.

I’m trying to be smarter these days. Take my vitamins, read more, you know...

clark and lake

I waited nearly an hour for the Blue Line tonight per usual and witnessed a nasty fight between a young couple. She was standing next to me, holding back sobs and when he would approach her she would softly mutter "I just can't take feeling like this anymore."

It hit me hard--I forgot how frustrating it is to feel that way. I tried to keep reading my book...and while doing so came across this,

"Farewells can be shattering, but returns are surely worse. Solid flesh can never live up to the bright shadow cast by its absence. Time and distance blur the edges; then suddenly the beloved has arrived, and it's noon with its merciless light, and every spot and pore and wrinkle and bristle stands clear."

For fucks sake, Margaret Atwood, amazing.

Maybe it's because it hits so close to home for me...but watching that girl cry in her cute dress (they were obviously out on a fancy-ish date, but she was carrying a mismatched tote bag and reminded me of myself when I try to look fancy--just a little bit off) made me remember all the things that I had long forgotten.

All the nights I was that girl in a dress on a train or elsewhere, usually drunk and sobbing. That was not happiness but it's so easy to forget these things when you are alone. It's so easy to remember the good stuff...the comfortable stuff. But tonight my stomach turned and I felt so lucky to not be that girl. I felt so lucky that I could read my book in silence...come home, put on stupid pajamas and lurk around on the internet while my cats take turns standing in front of my computer screen. Maybe love is worth crying on the train over, but in my recent past I have not found anyone that would be able to ignite that sort of reaction in me and I'm not quite sure I am ready to.

I much prefer this, most of the time.

numb in the fingers

Storms are rolling in and I wish I were on my couch, surrounded by my cats and blankets watching like, four movies in a row. Instead, I am attempting to write before work, despite my complete disinterest in doing so. That disinterest has resulted in this miserable excuse for a blog entry.

My dad is getting married. He called me and told me today, which is completely wonderful. Yes, he just met this woman (my future step-mom…weird) a month ago, but I have seen the two of them together, so in love. He deserves it. She is moving here from Mexico and I’m going to have two new siblings.

I need to learn Spanish.

Last night I hung out with amazing people and danced to "Be My Baby" in front of a jukebox.

Sometimes it takes a $3 whiskey drink, really cool people and a jukebox full of glory to make you realize how good life can be.

I could use some more of that right about now...

fire in the disco

I am in a really bizarre mood today. I don’t know if it’s lack of sleep or a food coma because I have been a raging fat ass all week, but I’m giggling to myself like a crazy person.

The giggling has to do with the fact that Kelly compared herself to child star Haley Joel Osment last week, and I just came across his photo online and started laughing hysterically. I can’t stop. It’s like in 7th grade when my friend Amy would write something vile on my folder and I would erupt with uncontrollable laughter, even while my teacher was yelling at me. (I don’t agree with Kelly’s comparison, by the way. But am really glad she made it because it’s making me really happy right now. Also, don’t ask how I came across his photo, it’s a whole thing.)

Tonight I’m going on a double date with my dad and his new girlfriend, and by double date, I mean two couples and myself. The Ultimate Fifth Wheel. I act put out by being single, but honestly I find it amusing. I like joking about it, because to be perfectly honest I don’t have to be single. I just don’t like anyone. Except that that one dude which will pass in a few days as usual.

I generally enjoy being single. I like flirting with whomever, not answering to anyone, never having to hang out with a dude instead of my girlfriends, not being stressed about mind games/mixed signals and having proper alone time--Which this week has been spent compulsively cleaning (which I have decided is releasing my sexual frustrations) and listening to Charlie Mingus.

Oh, and another reason I don’t like dating is because I think the boys I meet these days are trainwrecks. I mean, I’m a trainwreck too but am sick of being the one with goals, or a sense of who I am, or a desire to be (somewhat) of a grown up.
Roeper wrote a column about Peter Pan syndrome taking over American men this week and I couldn’t agree more.

Ok, I need a coffee.

Update: Make that crush thing two weeks. At least.

Update #2: Read Annie's blog It's glorious always.

ew.com

Well, the guy who bought the Reader sounds like a real fucking douche . I'm sorry, but if you love Tampa so much, stick to Tampa's independent media--Chicagoans don't care about palm trees or your tie-dye socks, creature.