I hate when people mis-spell melon, because then they force me to think of industrialists in pittsburgh and the damocles blade of scots' heritage (that is, in that chasing the biology/destiny/free will/nurture hamster with my fangs bared to expose the blue blood of truth to ruddy oxygen sense). That was a super-clunker mixed metaphor hoe down. I have been thinking about Julia way too much lately. I thought I wouldn't and shouldn't concern myself so much with the affairs of a virtual stranger, but I am stricken with bathos and pathos and empathy and, eerily, an absolute lack of envy. It is the lack of envy which tells me that the situation bears watching. Julia, if you're reading this, please e-mail me. I have no words of wisdom (though words of other kinds to approach these broad western horizons...but wait, the forests are on fire...I think a tree must have fallen with noone to hear it and thus it didn't enter into existence in the human sphere and the ancient gods became wroth...Roth). What the fuck is a mellow thigh? I am working on doing a new web page, which will be a hackneyed and way less readable version of the old web page. If you want to send me photos with specs on how you want them altered (or not) and text, I will use you gladly. I have always been less of an any-means-necessary and more of an any-means-available chick. It's r'evolution, baby.

hey margret, are you talking about me? my name isn't really julia. I took that from some orwell book I read once. I should have plenty of photos to choose from; I've shot four rolls of film of my body this week. it tells a better story than my face would. I don't feel so depressed today. and I'm happy to be sad. at least it's true, you know? a few months back, when I first started this craziness with my friend, it was like stepping out of a dimly, fluorescent-lit office building and out into bright, warm sunshine. yeah, it felt really good and beautiful. it was dazzling. but it was so bright that I couldn't see a thing. if I'm going to continue that metaphor, I guess now lunch hour is over, and I've had to go back inside to the office building of my life, and my eyes have started to adjust back again, and I see that this will never do. that affair was an unsustainable, self-deceptive contentment, and I'm sort of glad it's over because now I have to try a different way out. I want to be satisfied with things without a man first, then I think I'll do better that way. I don't want to put a false sense of importance on romance because I need so much to be distracted from what's really going on.

oh, hey, that guy I met at the bar the other night just wrote me back -- julia. hi julie is there more? j names are dear to me. julie is supreme. julia e suprimo. two things I liked most about you: the way you playfully fought right off the stool with your friend and the way you kindly kept the conversation going when i was talking to the three of you hah. Laurelhurst Park is just a warm-up. i have to run very far now. It IS nice to live across the street from a park with such tall trees. I bet one of the ducks in the pond is named Ramona Quimby. have you ice skated on that pond? I just walked out of zupans at 2:30am, frosted mini wheats for 2 bucks and a muzak version of dirty laundry. ah america. I was reading your web stuff. about the time i got to april 4th it was 4 am and my eyes hurt. I didn't want to stop. reading off a computer screen sucks. you are smart. it's strange but very interesting the way you observe things. the stuff in your head is greatness. have you stopped polluting it so much? I have read ecclesiastes, but never appreciated that particular verse. [ed.: thanks, droopy!] "Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might..." that is poetry to a ceramic artist. i am my most when my hands are doing. it doesn't seem bleak to me either. it's not the getting old and dying (because there is a winter, so much more brilliant is spring), it's just that the span of time is so very short.

Cyst, duh it was aimed at you. I used Julia because I remembered you using it when you use your name for letters being sent to you. Glad about the sunshine too. Weather With You (crowded house) Walking 'round the room singing Stormy Weather At 57 Mount Pleasant Street Well it's the same room but everything's different You can fight the sleep but not the dream Things ain't cooking in my kitchen Strange affliction wash over me Julius Ceasar and the Roman Empire Couldn't conquer the blue sky Well there's a small boat made of china It's going nowhere on the mantlepiece Well do I lie like a loungeroom lizard Or do I sing like a bird released Everywhere you go Always take the weather with you That's for you.

Though it was meant for someone else, thanks for posting that song, Margret. Made my day. I love Crowded House. Have you heard Neil Finn's latest (came out last year)? Pretty good, but not on par with anything the band did.

My best friend when I was 13 lived at Mt Pleasant Street.

Got 'em crankin' now. There's something so wistful yet joyful about their tunes. My neighbors hate me.

hey, i got a question. are sorabjiites still doing irc chat stuff? i mean, after smoke died, there was some sorabji server something or other, and then when i was at sheila's two summer's ago it was a regular irc server. swine. spiracle. christop. markness. sometimes sheila and marge and.. and.. nate. the dots, nate, the dots. don't you miss them and their magic? what's the deal these days? with the rains and all, i'm spending a lot more time at home. i'm thinking a chat would be good, in between me tearing down the wall paper in the bathroom and sanding and repainting and all that.

this seems to be a prewaffle thing. i don't even know what IRC is.

internet relay chat. Allows for bb group chatting. You download a client program such as Mirc, then login to a chat server, and chat away.

go ahead and forget my crucial presence, sarah. see if i care. i'm crying now.

hmm. dots. and my penis. i forgot about my penis.

i did not forget you, agatha, nor chordata, nor dave. that digiweb browser thing was ok too. btw, kevin's ex-wife's name is julie.

why doesn't everyone go to a lesser-used irc server like infinet.afternet.org and start a #sorabji.? just a thought. maybe sorabji would even show up to practice his insults.

oh wow. i just realized i don't even have an irc client on my computer at home. bought that thing early last year, too. guess i should get mIRC? i'll try that infinet server this weekend, in between wall-paper scrapings and doing the great aloha run. whew.

IRC sucks. I always end up in bloody Alaska or somewhere. Yahoo Messenger is where its at.

yahoo's cool for the voice thing. is it yahoo or icq that has the chatroom feature? or both?

and where is Woofy?

I think Bowie just has a thing for thighs....it's all over Ziggy Stardust....in "Hang onto yourself" he describes this girl as a "funky-thighed collector". My mellow-thighed chick decided to choose Valentine's Day to tell me there was no chance for reconciliation....I spent a year fighting a battle there was just no way I could win.....but at least I now know I don't have to fight anymore. Sorry-----I know the subject has pretty much changed....

sorry, pug. isn't it sad that poeple spend more time fighting than enjoying themselves?

He its another "ME..." Thats funny. Hala are you a female? I think it would be odd that there was a female Hal.

dave, i can't connect to that server. it says i'm not allowed in there. bah.