November

1999

Kidnapped

I’ve done a lot of stupid things in my life; why, just the other day I accidentally ripped a chunk of flesh the size of a cassette tape off ofmy inner thigh with duct tape. So I’m not the sharpest knife in the drawer. But in July of 1994, I did what is hopefully the stupidest thing I will ever do.

I got myself kidnapped at the age of 17. MORE »

 
September

1999

Manual Labor

So I got laid off from the bakery, which was really pretty sad, because I liked it a lot there. I had been promoted from shipping drone, working next to two Vietnamese guys who made fun of me in Vietnamese, to assistant baker where I got made fun of by two cute girls for wearing pants with a big open flap in the ass, to head cheesecake baker, where I got made fun of by just about everybody in the bakery and had to clean out the walk-in-freezer. I made some good cheesecakes, though; a little messy, but good. MORE »

 
September

1999

Waterslide Park

“How,” I am asking myself, “did I wind up in a mid-90’s Toyota Corrola with a woman I work with and her screaming, illegitimate child, blaring loud, irritating gangsta rap of the Puff Daddy variety, on my way to a waterslide park on one of my last days in Seattle?”

Now that’s an excellent question. MORE »

 
August

1999

Jenny

If one could die of stupidity, I’d have croaked a thousand times. Thankfully, moronism is not fatal, and I’ve lived to tell about my mishaps. This is one of the worst.As I graduated high school, I had managed to alienate most of my friends. I borrowed $250 from Malia to pay library fines, and then couldn’t pay her back, so felt very guilty about hanging out with her; Nate and Ethan, my former bandmates, had recoiled in terror from the sadly non-punk direction my lifestyle was going; and most of my other pals weren’t really all that close anyways. I had started to be friends with people I’d never really hung out with before, but not that often. I was planning to move out ofmy mother’s house and start a new life.

And then Jenny called. MORE »

 
August

1999

John North Wright: Profiles In American Courage

John Wright is a fucking crazyman first and foremost, but unlike most of the drooling insane that populate America’s streets, he’s a crazyman with a mission and a whole bunch of web pages.

Originally, John was most occupied with the psychic violence done onto him by Bob Dylan and Dylan’s using his precognitive powers to steal John’s then-wife, Martha “Marty” Brumbaugh. MORE »

 
August

1999

Junior Achievement

So I was just minding my own business in my History class one day during my third year of high school when the teacher, a bloated waste of a man named Mr. Monsen, announced that the next day we (as underprivledged sad inner-city school chillun) were going to be visited by representatives from Junior Achievement, an organization that endeavored to teach kids good business skills and practices. Oh, to joy. I marked on my calendar to skip school tomorrow. MORE »

 
July

1999

Not Naked

Spencer Tunick is a photographer. He takes large group photographs of groups of people. He also prefers that those people be naked. Unfortunately, that’s just not going to fly in New York City. Tunick was arrested in Times Square this April after getting 175 people to lie down naked in the middle of Times Square. That action has transformed Tunick’s art, previously a quiet, private endeavor, into a civil rights issue. At 5:30 Sunday morning, Tunick was going to take another photograph, on Catherine street in Chinatown. I was there. The invitation that I recieved said “participants only,” which was unsurprising. Because I don’t read the newspapers, I was unaware of the media coverage of this shoot; apparently, Tunick had been denied his permit to shoot nude by the city. He appealed, and Judge Harold Baer overturned the city’s ruling, stating that New York law allows public nudity as part of a play or artistic exhibition. However, the City attempted to overturn the judge’s decision, and Saturday night stated that they would arrest any nude individuals, in defiance of the actual law. MORE »

 
July

1999

Fratboys, Christians, Disco

Things I try to avoid: fratboys, Christians and disco. So, one muggy summer night, when those three things mixed with just enough cheap red wine to make me loopy, bad things were sure to happen. MORE »

 
June

1999

Drunk

I went to a party last night, a highfalootin literary party at which I had no other recourse than to become very drunk. Rose Kernochan, an editrix at Word mag, apparently throws a party every year, after she’s met enough people who don’t know each other. Ostensibly, parties like these facilitate scene interaction and “mingling” but really, people mostly just talk to their friends. We showed up fashionably late, admired the various Kernochan family portraits and the admirably high ceilings of her apartment, and then I made a beeline for the kitchen and started mixing my own gin and tonics. Sequestered into a corner with Tomas, Elise and Sabin, the conversation somehow changed into a fairly heated discussion about whether all human eyes are exactly the same size. I mostly drank and stayed out of it.This guy complimented me on my tie and launched into a rant about how everybody at this party was “fake,” how these publishing people all thought they were artists, but really they just leeched off real artists, and he wouldn’t have anything to do with them. MORE »

 
June

1999

Stealing

My moral compass has, at times, wobbled dangerously close to the edge of complete collapse; there have been times during which I could not only not tell right from wrong, but honestly didn’t care. During those times, I’ve dug myself into more than a few holes. Here’s one I never got out of. When I was in Junior High, I became a kleptomaniac. Going to a private school rife with the filthy rich had given me a real case of the green-eyed monster. As previously described, we were eking out a lower-middle class existance in Tukwila, a mall-adjacent low-lying suburb of Seattle, where nobody lived but the sad and sorry. MORE »