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10.13.99 11:36 a.m.

"Like so many Americans, she was trying to construct a life that made sense from things she found in gift shops."


  -Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. 


Created on 7/19/01 from a letter written to several mostly random people.
About Nick (herein referred to as the Bastard because I was having a bitter day). Basically, he was my best friend for a great many years. Kind of the inseparable, wonderful friendship thing. That was, however, until I began dating this girl who we shall refer to as The Harpy.
Well, as The Harpy and I continued to go out, I could detect him growing more jealous and competitive. And that simple was not a game I wanted to play. So, logically, the friendship degraded. While I was at a two week social psychology seminar at Bard College, he slept with her. I should mention that I lost my virginity to her shortly before and that I was very sensitive about it. When I got back, she broke up with me. But I did not know why until he was bragging to me that he bedded her and was dating her, as though I should be proud of him. So that pretty much cemented us not being friends.
Also, he teamed up with a really ridiculous woman who has made me her loathed enemy. I don't have time to consider her anything more than a joke, so it makes her seems all the more pathetic to me. She has told people, in the past, that I violently raped The Harpy (disgustingly not the case), was going to jump The Bastard (not my style at all), and invoke a huge hell beast to attack her (not a chance). And people have believed her. The Bastard helped these rumors along to hurt me. Though why he should want to, I do not know. I'd estimate that he has hurt me quite enough for one trip through Space-Time. But I coped and grew stronger thanks to my love and constant companion Katie.
Now he means very little to me, as does the Harpy. I still have disdain for the Bitch who spreads lies about me. But I shall not play her game. It would gratify her far too much.

(On a complete side note, but it was on my mind) I cannot endure people who are false sounding in their writings. I am not this way, I don't think. It wears on me as a writer and reader. I'd imagine it would be easier and allow a freer range of expression to do so.

I am currently a communications major, preparing myself for the inevitable locking of horns with the head of the department. He's not known for letting good students graduate so they stay on as his lapdogs. I may switch majors. I am on full presidential scholarship that I am trying my hardest to maintain. I need to keep a 3.5 GPA, I believe. Which, at present, I think I can handle. I enjoy the visual and performing arts. I am an actor, currently paying my dues at the Haunted Mansion (ironically joined by The Bastard, The Bitch, and The Harpy). I directed once. Henceforth, I shall always know WHY directors seemed so mean. Actors are all blithering idiots. Quite a bit of cognitive dissonance in theater. I draw a bit. I just dropped my drawing class owning to some trouble with the teacher. Such as, I wanted to learn to draw better and he wanted to punish the class for the fact that his mother obviously did not give him enough positive feedback.
I can draw quite nicely right now. Though I prefer to draw abstractly. It is more emotional. Mostly abstract, cartoon like figures. I drew a wonderful sketch of Kate over a year ago, which shows her as a creature with only oversized eyes as facial features and lighting up the background slightly. More recently, I drew a graphite sketch (somewhat accidentally, because I was trying to teach her to sketch better) that even I was shocked I pulled it off. In the words of my friend "You can actually draw things that look like... things?! Why don't you then?" I tried to explain that it seemed boring and unemotional, but it wasn't for that time. So I just said that I am very lazy. Which is partially true. I can be very lazy. But I get these spurts of energy (usually accompanied but feeling very light and delirious, such as now) where I work quickly and for hours. So that tends to catch me up.

I am very sensitive. I won't go into everything right now. I WOULD like to go to sleep at some point, and it would take hours to write it all down. So I'll glance over a few things, and if you are curious, ask further. If not, go back to playing solitaire. I remember once, I went to visit my grandmother in the hospital and the feeling of death and decay was so strong that I could not breathe. I went out to the car to rest, but that wasn't good enough. I wasn't nearly dying anymore. But I wasn't getting any better. So, since my inner voice was commanding it, I sat on a patch of grass and felt myself absorb the greenness until I was pretty much okay. I have a tendency to sit on grass because it makes me feel better. During the winter, I go through hell because I can't get to any living plants in their natural state.
About this time, I was talking with a woman many years my senior whom I'll call Mabius. She claims she had it legally changed. And she started trying to manipulate me and psychologically abuse me. Which, as I hope you've never felt it, is a disgusting experience. She stole my memories of my past life and personal information and used it to try to seduce me. So I learned psychic immunity and got too strong for her too get inside my head, much to her dismay. I met her in person once, and my inner self hated her and wanted to destroy her. I instinctively kept myself in psychically protective positions the whole time she was here. Hands grasped together, eyes closed when practical. I think she had realized she lost me by the time I put her back on the train. She wrote a note that I tore up in front of her without reading. I knew what it said.
I learned a lot from her, just not how she would have had it. I think she was in my life just so I could grow stronger through recovery. Some people are. We never really spoke after that.
I saw her occasionally at Ren Faires. Last time Katie saw her and loathed her on sight. Good Katie.

I think that about covers it for tonight. Now I shall take a good eight-hour rest then eat some Cinnamon Toast Crunch (the breakfast of champions!)


reading: Cake Lyrics
listening: Fashion Nugget wanting: um... cake
interesting thought: (I have no way to work cake into this)

Thomm Quackenbush is an author and teacher in the Hudson Valley. Double Dragon publishes four novels in his Night's Dream series (We Shadows, Danse Macabre, and Artificial Gods, and Flies to Wanton Boys). He has sold jewelry in Victorian England, confused children as a mad scientist, filed away more books than anyone has ever read, and tried to inspire the learning disabled and gifted. He is capable of crossing one eye, raising one eyebrow, and once accidentally groped a ghost. When not writing, he can be found biking, hiking the Adirondacks, grazing on snacks at art openings, and keeping a straight face when listening to people tell him they are in touch with 164 species of interstellar beings. He likes when you comment.



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