Category Archives: Ithaca

Impossible To Get To Icy Ithaca

winds-conscience
Winds of Conscience
samplex

Am fighting off a cold, or an allergy in throat and sinus, and its accompanying depression. Impossible to get to Ithaca this week. You're off the hook. I'll challenge Sue to a visit sometime in August if that would be good for you. Are you still kicking the online addiction? Missed you sorely when I checked just now, and still nothing from you. Of course Steve was here most of the weekend, although he went home late each night, and returned the next day. It was great seeing him. I missed him, but now I feel like rotting jungle fungus warmed over the coals today.

Blumstein joined us yesterday for an afternoon to midnight scoot of four-handed cards, loads of grillmunch, beer, and filthy mouth muttering. It was even good seeing Bob on the upside of a three-day sick. The uncertainty principle does not apply to Bob. IT IS CERTAIN he will be sick three days a week. As I may have mentioned, he boasts on some occasions and complains other times of chronic fatigue syndrome. But he was fit as a for a few hours and we all enjoyed him, although Tim mentioned the other day how he noticed that Bob can at times practically suck away your soul with his tired hem and haw manner of speech. Oh well, of all people, he should know. Sue called this morning. She's home safely with the parents in south Georgia. Now there's only the flight back to National on Friday. All's quiet with the Dollhouse shoal.

Love and safety licks...

GT

A Basis For Back To The Basics In Ithaca

rose
Our Lady of the Flower(s)
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Date: Wed, 23 Jul 1996 8:26:08

Point of Origin: Itaca, New York

Hey, well, wherever shall I begin???!!

Had a great time with my mum and aunt. We went to the Cornell museum and botanical gardens...they are duly impressed by the first school I've attended that has a real campus—just like the ones in movies. My mum's parental fantasies and ambitions for me appear to be being realised—at least for the moment. We also worked on decorating my bedroom—its draped in black lace—their idea strangely enough. Next time they come we're going to make a black lace canopy for the bed—very Morticia Adams-ish. It seems that they're finally willing to decorate according to my tastes, realising that my interior decorating tastes like my fashion tastes will never be quite the same as theirs. Of course while they were here I gorged myself on the milk of maternal kindness and charity getting as much free stuff, labor, and meals as possible. The basics.

Unfortunately my indulgence (indirectly) led to a problem. After leaving a Thai restaurant (where I has a couple of beers), we went to the grocery store to get Asian food products—the store has an extensive selection. After leaving, as we sat at a traffic light waiting to leave the parking lot I was in an accident. A van in front of me suddenly went into reverse, backing into me. The driver ( young w/ pigtails, a nose ring, and a Henry Rollins t-shirt) became rather belligerent. My mum went to call the cops, although the other driver protested it. It turns out he doesn't have insurance, the van was a rental, and he only had a student id (Ithaca college), no driver's license with him (and the one he does have is from another state and expired—he just received a ticket last month for that). Thus his reluctance to involve the cops. But I insisted on getting them. After exchanging phone numbers, he left and I waited for the cops. Got an estimate yesterday—its going to cost a $1,000 to repair the car, but at least its driveable. Meanwhile this guy—Patrick Kennedy—has been in contact. He doesn't have much money—and will soon have even less since the cops have issued him three tickets—a fact which has him very upset. He seems to blame me for this, feeling, as I've said, it was wrong to involve the cops. I've tried to explain my position which is that without an official accident report I have nothing with which to pressure him into paying for the repairs. Anyway...

I was of course drinking all the while. He ended up making the usual offer of giving me his phone number and in a haze of beer and sexual fantasy I called him (he’s in NYC) and we talked until long past dawn. But oddly enough it didn’t involve any phone sex. He’s sent me some e-mail and I’m planning to reply.
It's good to hear Steve has been welcomed back into the bosom of the Dollhouse family. I have also had a reconciliation of sorts with a friend. I'm sure you've heard me speak of Themis. We had a falling-out a week before I left the city—drunk as usual—I can't remember what happened—blacked out as usual. I only know that it happened somewhere between my flat and a bar a few blocks away and that it must have been pretty bad cos I've never heard from him again. I suspect I told him a few unwelcome truths (aren't they always unwelcome?), not for the ifrst time, but appparently for the last time. In any event late Saturday night he called me, having got my number from the phone co., acting as if nothing had ever happened. We talked for awhile, but neither of us mentioned that night. I don't know if we're friends again or not or what prompted him to call. I can't decide if I should call him or not or perhaps e-mail him (my fave occupation). I'll have to write you about him and our strange relationship—but I'm not in the mood right now.

Went online yesterday and had an encounter in the ever-popular members rooms with a certain BenofDover. Went on for quite some time—he's a sub in search of a little discipline which I was naturally willing to virtually administer. I was of course drinking all the while. He ended up making the usual offer of giving me his phone number and in a haze of beer and sexual fantasy I called him (he's in NYC) and we talked until long past dawn. But oddly enough it didn't involve any phone sex. He's sent me some e-mail and I'm planning to reply. I'll let you know what happens.

So what is going on with you and this prostitute??!! What exactly were you planning and who was the friend who was arranging it and who was interested in the sex? Are you still pursuing this?

So you aren't able to roadtrip. Perhaps its just as well—I'm quite busy, desperately working on grant proposals, a task I've shamefully neglected. The fall semester, school, and grant deadlines are breathing down my neck and I'm beginning to panic. And I was feeling rather uncomfortable with your roadtrip requirements.

Love

Jennifer

Nothing But A Creeping Annoyance Was Lost

word
There's A Word For That
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Date: Sun Jul 21, 1996 1:11:28 AM

Brave sister—Steve is back in the Dollhouse fold, safely tucked in righteously as an original DH cast member after we kissed and made up, laughing and muddling thru blanket apologies, a case of beer, a few games of "perquacky" and juicy cat calls from the next wave of memory hounds setting up camp. Licking the Pussy, Nickel Ball, and Perquackey stalk our energies for reasons neither of us can quite make the case. Sue should telephone early Sunday morning after the cruiseship docks at 8:30 in Miami, a mere seven hours away—right before she gears up to cross the long Floridian peninsula depositing her Aunt Lou back in Albany GA, where Sue will fold into the lives of her shiny folks for a few days. The well-publicized whore in a box scenario was scuttled by default. Mouse failed to call at midnight after getting off work. Indifference had already settled over us like a rude collapsing smog, so nothing but a creeping annoyance was lost.

How was Mum & Auntie's visit? Did you make it to the Ontario waterworks? Today was a beautifully crisp sunny visitation. I signed a neighbor's petition in his race to get on the ballot for the DC School Board. I told him I din't speak the language of public schools. I wanted the Feds out of schools, and perhaps give schooling over to capital and its minions. Ha! The candidate scoffed at my suggestion like any good Republican trapped in an ultra-liberal jurisdiction would. The government sugar daddy model is the only configuration these major parties know, especially in dealing with the poor and the stupid and the college educated who need money for every project a new brood can think up. Watch your toes, professors...

Yep, keep 'em poor and stupid. Now that's a job for those who like motorcycles, trap doors, and house warming blessings in the name of Jesus Christ without knowing the Nazarene was a Jew down to his dying breath, so I want to be one too, leafy spinach & spam balls, and country music exercise videos. I'm sure there's a word for that. Despite the position of the mid-day sun in the Eastern sky where you sit to study strange behaviors of people still moved by ordinary magic, I can be such an ass sometimes. I wanna go with...

Good luck, Wayne Curtin! You'll need it...

GT

Instincts Serving As Software For Snotty Experiments With Dirty Minds

chaos
Order Out Of Chaos
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Date: Fri Jul 19, 1996 5:00:12 PM

"...Cos suddenly there was a flood of instant messages, and I discovered that I was almost the only woman left." —Jennifer

Quite the norm, Jennifer. Men are such worms. Dirt is our life, say I. Eight hours a day, five days a week, years of clawing, spent in the dirt, clay, and mud rubs off on ya, and its cough gets sucked into the bloodstream where it pollutes the whole body, including the eyes, the nostrils, the mind. In the ever controversial Book of Genesis, it is written somewhere that God cursed the ground. Having spent more than a gentleman's share wallowing, hiking, muscling through the dirt and the mud, pounding nails, hubs, stakes, whacking brush, thorns, poisonous vines, yellow jacket hives, wading stiff rivers, armpit-high flood zones flooded, half-frozen creek beds, and the shitty bowels of sewage trunk systems, I came to believe it, too. Blue collar men who have remained holy are my heroes. The same for their women.

"So today I did some reading and went to a park, waded in a creek, and hiked to Taughnannock Falls. I felt restored enough to leap back online. Read your missives (by the way may I also say that i'm also amused by your notes and often sit here chuckling and grinning...LOL—I'm learning the lingo)"

Cool with an asterisk. Re-read preceding paragraph of mine. But still wish I were there sharing the exhileration. Chicklet in wading boots, vroom. And perhaps I shall soon, if you really want me to be, there, with you, me, old ugly bulging me. Psychological exploitation is such a two-way street. Jen, you make such a big deal about bodily architecture sometimes it's like you are nailing a mouthful of piranha spikes into my brain.

About the comment I made in nyc about cybersex and communications....What did I say?....You know me, mind like a sieve...help me plug the holes and refresh my faulty memory."—

That was it. It was a oneliner tossback. You bubbled forth with that typical edge in your voice indicating that, well, your exact words were: "Hey, you and I could go into the cybersex business together" after I was telling you what some folk were doing already with the newest Internet tools. Your software. My hardware. That—sweetbones was a double entendre. Your body and sexual instincts serving as the software, i.e. the program matter. Tools and expertise to operate the technology of course would be mine (and Sue's, together with her bookkeeping talents no piss in the wind either). I didn't really respond beyond a hopeful facial expression because I hear so much throwaway promises out of the mouths of friends and would-be friends that I have grown cold to the hearing. Enter the Steve Taylor arguments. I am still a PowerMac away from exploring the teleconferencing protocols, but Sue promises one any month now, and then I will be eager to test that warm, metallic dream of George & Judy Jetson emerging. How justified am I in considering your words worth the air they rode in on...

These last few thoughts may help you, although I know you already do understand my insistence in finally shaking off that "go with the flow" attitude, and finally doing things MY way, THY way...and why Jack last February, and now Steve Taylor have been early inheritors of my refusal to suffer leisure idiots their pleasure as they invade what many have perceived as my good nature and fair household...
"Sorry that I can't make it down this summer...poss. in the fall (depending on school) or at least at winter break when I shall again be financially sound thanks to the great American pastime of accumulating debts which can't be repaid."

I will count on it. But then the years roll by, and still no Jennifer. You know Sue and I both love you with everything we have. Now baby don't take this the wrong way (is there a right way?), but we, okay, moi more than she, have long fantasized that you would eventually end up cohabiting with us, here, there, anywhere, the three of us, a sustainable family unit, the final solution to each of our unique problems, doing something, doing everything. Both general and specific prophecies encourage it, but nothing can or will happen until the situation, or any situation for that matter is ripe. This is the curse of my way of life. I am always seeking signs, knowing nothing myself except that which is given to my understanding through an intricate matrix of synchronicities and undismissable, unmistakeable directives. Meanwhile we all individually, and collectively go about our lives, sorting out ourselves from our enemies, our lusts from our loves, and our intelligences from our stupidities. I am probably overstepping the laws of fate by mentioning this to you even at this juncture, but you came through with such flying colors on that last note I can't help myself. Frankly I don't feel I have much more than a decade left. Whether this is a psychotic form of dementia or hypochondria on my part is uncertain. What is certain I am inner directed with an urgency I have never had before except in late childhood and teens. The mobius strip of life continues to echo with incidents I recall charging up those hills of time, and the dimming flush I feel in my ever-aching head inclines me to believe my assessments are correct. Now I am not relating all this to you out of some sort of feeble attempt for sympathy, for I know the opposite effect of sheer repugnancy would more likely be the case. I am simply saying things to you I have said to Sue, and I tremble as I presume God (whatever) has placed these thoughts into my being. These last few thoughts may help you, although I know you already do understand my insistence in finally shaking off that go with the flow attitude, and finally doing things MY way, THY way...and why Jack last February, and now Steve Taylor have been early victims of my refusal to suffer leisure idiots their pleasure as they invade what many have perceived as my good nature and fair household...

BECAUSE I SEE MYSELF IN UNIVERSAL TERMS. But I am here. Polaris is there. Neither slave nor executioner (Camus). American society forces most of us male and female into both roles in a wishy washy fashion without benefit of accreditation, and so most of us muddle through unaware of the implications as we dogpaddle through this soul-fracturing sea of emblematic garbage government, and frankly, its frisky twin sister, popular culture, have invested in us.
"As to a trip northward on your part and the needed promise on my part...let me come over all coy and noncommittal, voicing my uncertainties, my fears as to what such a promise would entail. Love. Jennifer."

The creation process is all I know, anymore. So much has been put behind me. I am incapable of well-rehearsed thrusts into the unknowable future. Could never memorize a poem or rock lyric or bible scripture as a matter of principle, but I do know I am fair and sensitive, good to the last drop even should the confusion of others brings pain and despair either to me or them, or both. I expect nothing from others, but I put much aspiration out there in the ether to be considered. By seeking to bring order out of chaos and sustain order on the social plane (and in this set I include home & hearth) does not necessarily infer that I endorse rigid thought processes when artistic inspiration is given to free us from the stasis of dry patterns and unbearable party lines. I seek to understand and harness cause and effect, purpose and freedom in all things for all concerned. All else is slavery of the mind, body, and spirit. Games have rules. I like games. I like rules. Rules are to be broken, only when those rules no longer enforce the better or best case scenario. I am not an asslicker of unbridled chaos or random rulebreaking for its own sake. I seek peace. Peace is different things to different people. Understanding the equivalence of eternity and its demands among the personality orders and disorders is the function of the artist who seeks to destroy the slavery in which both society and the individual mind conspire to shackle us. To become a willing slave in a fate-endorsed situation of inequality (name the game) is to loosen its bonds, elevating the slave to a level perhaps even superior to that of the taskmaster. Jesus the Hammer taught this. To be a belligerent slave runs the risk of failing on all counts that the slave has been inspired to corrupt in following his false hopes of freedom, and his condition is worsened by rebellion, not eased. Geez, where is all this going? I suppose I am attempting an analysis of why the S&M, B&D culture has adherents on both sides of the equation, and why I feel capable of playing both roles. BECAUSE I SEE MYSELF IN UNIVERSAL TERMS. But I am here. Polaris is there. Neither slave nor executioner (Camus). American society forces most of us male and female into both roles in a wishy washy fashion without benefit of accreditation, and so most of us muddle through unaware of the implications as we dogpaddle through this soul-fracturing sea of emblematic garbage government, and frankly, its frisky twin sister, popular culture, have invested in us.

Lastly, I do not apologize for going on too long. I dig writing to you, and still can't get over the fact how prolific and witty you have proven to be. Thanks for coming to my rescue now that Steve has lost his account through negligence. He could have saved his old AOL accounts if he would have tried. A source of great pleasure to him, and archival purpose, he simply junked it by not showing up to his post-resignation interview with his boss. That interview is an AOL concoction lending them the sense that they really care why people quit the company. However, if AOL boots you, it is certain you should leave them to their own devices, and seek instead a regular Internet account, although yes, AOL is quite nice for beginners such as yourself. Internet chat is slow & tedious. The AOL versions are still amazing with speed and easy accessibility. AOL have contracted to upgrade to better third-party Web browsers. But first you need a 28.8 modem. Maybe I can help accelerate that day for you...

You mentioned mum & aunt this weekend. I thought the NYC fiasco and subsequent family feud had splintered that auntie thing, or is this a different aunt? Anywaze, have you learned to flashsession yet? This way you can check mail without being led astray by manually signing on. Nevertheless, I won't get worried if I don't hear from you in a few days, but if I am coming up during Sue's hiatus, it's next week, OR NOT...

GT