Bulletin Board of Bad Behavior

on halloween, after watching wb because, hell, batboy, naughty & spoiled are the lazy types, we headed for linda's. i was spoiled. hotpink negligee (think carol in *babydoll*) with a hotpink bob to match, throwing temper tantrums & making boys buy me drinks. i fixed my eyes on a boy a little straighter than i like them, but decided he'd be the victim. within twenty minutes, he's at my side, playing the don't-i-know-you game. and in another twenty minutes, we're discussing neutral milk hotel, yo la tengo, and cafe select in montparnasse---meanwhile, the boy in the booth behind pulls my boa, & i throw cigarettes at him, while the bleached blonde with clara bow lips in a french renaissance outfit lowers her bustier to show a rosy nipple. i turn to straightboy & say, do you know her? but oh no, it's just the full moon, and then when the fate of the night seems to be like fingertips on the back of my neck, out comes the infamous term "my girlfriend" out of his piscean lips. i sigh because ah, faraway yet so close. but he kisses my neck anyway & we forget about the godawful girlfriend for a little while. i, of course, have just decided to give up being the other woman, damn it all to hell.

last night straightboy & i have drinks. you know how it is, the way you boys might be strong in your resolve to *get* the girl, i try to promise myself to leave lust out. and then we move on to a corner in barca and tequila, exchanging secrets that sort of shock lightly, like hiv(is that a scare tactic?) & being deflowered in a threesome.

lipstick is smeared all over my mouth within half an hour, & i've memorized his hipbone as it was in a doorway on 11th between pike & union. la vie n'est pas juste.

shit, you go places i go. i better watch out. luckily I'm mostly down Kinkora's alone with the rabble, my people. i love them all and don't know their names.

i looked for you in there when i was haunting the bars the night after. i've yet to understand the charm of that place. then again, i've never had a drink there.
last night was brian jonestown massacre at sit 'n spin. a less-than-well endowed man stripped to his socks on stage while two bandboys make out madly, everyone shrooming,matteo wearing my 40's furcoat & pulling on my cords while cara kissed my neck, tempting me back into bisexuality if only for a few hours. and the music was insaaaane. i wouldn't say last week paled in comparison---rather, it was a continuation. we're living huge again...well, as huge as poor seattle artists can live on alcohol & euphoria.

I was only in there for one pint last night. do you know Tony?

The answer to my question would be a yes. forgive the typing I'm now on a lab top. thanks for telling me I was a bastard. and your friend even thought worse. All I'm trying to do is give some entertainment, and i never thought of it as something disspleasing to women. You can't go by the photos alone. I feel so much more, if you look harder. but that is that. Only the people who know me know I'm not a womanizer. your ords. i would never use the word 'womanizer' and it ended in a hand shake. hope to see you soon.

women are never happy, haven't you learned that yet? actually, that's sexist. and i jokingly called you a womanizer. after all, all we have is the image in our head and the slivers we're given.

What would you do if I posted your email? Not the first one but the second? Or both? Absolute power corrupts absolutely. But then again I'm the moderator. It's my right. Maybe not, who knows.

I'm learning with the photos on Pax Acidus people are thinking I'm shallow, a womanizer, a dick, an asshole, a narcissist and shallow, shallow, shallow.

Fuck off.

I've been in long relationships and have never cheated, hit, spit or acted bad in anyway besides getting over jealous on occasion. To steal from The Wedding Present ‘Jealously is an essential part of love.' I'm not proud of my jealous side, but only when you are that passionate about someone do you make the best love, buy them the best presents, care deeply for them when they are sick and hug them when they cry, it's when you are into it that far you feel their pain and would die for them. And if jealousy is something John Lennon felt, it's good enough for me.

I have a somewhat healthy way of dealing with people. I don't lie. It's amazing how far trust can go between friends and lovers. We all have had our trust broken by people we care about and we know how much that hurts. Being honest with people gives the opposite feeling. It's security. When people feel secure with you they let you kiss them, see them naked, have sex with them. It's a nice way to live.

My parents are still together- so I haven't been brought up bitter against love. Now here I go defending myself, and that always leads to more trouble.

People used to tell me I was too honest, others would say that what they liked about the writing was that is was so open and raw. I'm not ashamed of anything I've done on Pax Acidus. I don't think I need to be. Pax Acidus has more female fans than male. I thought this was because the girls got it. I can't place it, but it reminds me of TV commercials. All the fake couples trying to sell you stuff have the woman very good looking, at least way above average, and the men are all regular Joes- even overweight or goofy. The people behind financing their products have put a lot of research and money into this and I guess it must be intimidating to men if a handsome man is trying to sell you a family oriented product. Do men want to buy shit from spokesmen they feel superior to?

(Definition of narcissism- a love or sexual desire for one's own body. Mmmmm, my poem ‘Masturbation is a Beautiful Thing' seems to hit on these lines. The way we go through life alone, lonely, dissatisfied, ugly, struggling to find the elusive hope through social disappointments doesn't leave us much. A little self-love goes a long way.)

So this concludes the defense of the Pax Acidus photos. When we started Sloth didn't even want photos up. Now they are one of the most popular aspects of the site and one of the things that make us sticky- brings people back wanting more.

Remember two things. All this is fiction for the sake of entertainment, even the bulletin board, and a picture is worth a thousand words. Draw your own conclusions. If people want to start sending pix of them selves scantily clad and of the debauchery nature go ahead. I'll put those up instead.

Say Cheese, McCutcheon XX

And Chrissy, I know we have declared a truce, put out the olive branch, waved the white flag—and don't worry. I won't post your emails. That's between you and I.

That wasn't a 'fuck off' against you Chrissy. I know how sensitive artists can be.

You just called. When you are done reading this pick me up and I'll take you to Kinkora's and play Joan Jeet's Crimson and Clover on the Juke Box. I'm slightly drunk and will tell you more answers for your questions.

but where were the kinks and waltzing matilda?

my throat is sore & my eyes are reminding me of when a man playing in the band for our talent show night in high school told me i needed bedroom slippers to match my bedroom eyes. but i digress. look at this line i found in this audre lorde poem: "for those of us who cannot indulge the passing dreams of choice/ who love in doorways coming & going" you might get a kick out of such.
my eyes are closing. petit ecrivain, je te laisses.

I called today, but it must be the old number or the one no one ever answers. It was a nice chat last night. I saw Shallow Hal today. And I am shallow because if I bare my soul and tell the honest truth I was attracted to the G. P. girlfriend better than the fuller version. But this might be because I have meet Gwen and have always thought she was more beautiful in person than on screen. I know you wouldn't think it possible but it is.

i had my second rest at your pub post-work this eve at a caller's request. last night won hands down, as far as conversation & company go.

I was in the pub for about an hour after the movie. Did you play Joan Jett?

oh my GOD, egyptian's doing delicatessan as the midnight showing. doses of jeunet all weekend.
no joan jett as i was too hazy to realize which jukebox i was privy to. next time i'll write it on my hand in black sharpie. actually i'll have w.w.j.j.d. tattooed on my right hand and then i'll *never* forget.