Introduction

This is a love story about a teacher named Abbey and a student named Mitchell. It seems that Abbey was quite apprehensive about dating Mitchell, but slowly opened up to the idea. What follows are mostly emails from Mitchell, but due to his very unique and amusing writing style, you can easily tell what's going on between the two.

There were no pictures of Abbey or Mitchell on the floppies, so I searched the internet. I was easily able find a picture of Mitchell, but pictures of Abbey seem to be non-existent.

The emails cease suddenly on December 17th. What happens beyond then is anybody's guess, but from what I can tell through Google research is that Abbey has never married.

I hope you enjoy this small snapshot of this couple's time with each other. The emails are humorous and extremely enjoyable to read. I now bring you the story of Mitchell and Abbey...

June 20, 2003

From: "Mitchell"
To: "Abbey"
Subject: *don't let the disappointment show*
Date: Fri, 20 Jun 2003 17:52:31 +0000

howdy,
i don't know if you're at the school or whether you'll be reading this today
or sometime early next week, but should your plans with bonnie fall through,
please give me a call. heck, you can call me for anything (except to make
fun of my mother). i gotta run (going out for lunch with my sister, dr.
jessica [she passed her dissertation defense. both of my parents
weeped. it was touching, and that means a lot coming from a sociopath]).
ummm, when i have a minute, i'd like to defend 'joseph' and tell you all
about it. its a wonderful musical. really. donny osmond.... purrrrrrr.
goodbye,

reuben (or rueben [one of joseph's many brothers])

~if you desire peace of soul and happiness, then believe; if you would be a
disciple of truth, then inquire.~

---------------------------------------------------

From: "Mitchell"
To: "Abbey"
Subject: go go joe
Date: Fri, 20 Jun 2003 20:50:45 +0000

joseph: imagine me, a young grade seven (seven? or eight?) student
travelling to the albertan provincial capital from the horrid dread that is
cold lake to watch 'joseph'. imagine the excitement of watching my first
musical (or did i lose my musical virginity to the phantom? i don't
remember now) after weeks of donny osmond's smiling face in the tv
advertisement for the show. i was set. donny was to entertain me for an
hour and a half. when we arrived, there were rumours that donny may not be
performing because of a mystery illness (i found out last year that it was
during this time that donny osmond was canceling shows b/c of his bouts with
depression. actually, the shows weren't being canceled, instead, someone
else was filling in as joseph). would it be donny osmond singing and acting
for me, or some other dolt? the tension. the tension. at showtime, i was
delighted when donny stepped out on stage and began singing 'any dream will
do'. my heart stopped. from start to finish, donny was shining. i wanted
to be one of the chorus kids who gave up their summer to do the show. i
knew all the words. soon my desire changed. instead i wanted to be a
brother. yes, either rueben or simeon (thats probably who your brother was)
to be specific. i could sing 'one more angel in heaven' and 'those canaan
days' like a bird (my voice hadn't deepened yet). but, somehow i missed my
casting call. shucks, darnit. fast forward to the fine summer of 1998 and
again i went and saw 'joseph'. this time it was in winnipeg, with donny
osmond's nephew in the lead (big deal). again, i was mesmorized. i still
think that theres a chance that i could land a place in the cast. i'd be
the best rueben/simeon. then you could say, "yeah, y'know that mitchell
k? i knew him gooooood." if that were to fall through, i'd also
settle as being marius from 'les mis' (i've always fancied myself a bit of a
lover/dreamer), or if thats too ambitious, i'd happily be courfeyrac ("the
blood of the martyrs will water the meadows of fr____ance!"). i've never
seen 'j.c. superstar', though i've heard the music. i feel its
mediocre-to-reasonable (i can hear you groaning).

did i say that my parents 'weeped'? i think i meant 'wept'.

i just spent $27 on cheese. how perfect? cheese is the sole food that
keeps me from becoming a vegan. no joke.

i don't think melanie makes fun of you at all. in fact, i'd say she's
rather fond of you.

i thought that i was beyond the point of getting a sunburn. yesterday i
learned how wrong i was. my upper-chest region is like a cherry. very
painful. i'm a mimosa: if you touch my shoulders/chest, i collapse. my mom
says i shouldn't go outside, but what does she know? not very much, it
would seem. in fact, i'm going to go serenade the birds right now.
have fun with your test. make sure jack doesn't cheat, that little rat
(ha).

regards,
mitchell

~if you desire peace of soul and happiness, then believe; if you would be a
disciple of truth, then inquire.~

June 22, 2003

From: "Mitchell"
To: "Abbey"
Subject: why i like Abbey (oh, let me count the ways)
Date: Sun, 22 Jun 2003 08:50:38 +0000

i think that she is a lovely person. she is very funny. she makes me
laugh. she humbles me. she makes me think. she listens to pretty good
music. she says 'oopsk'. she likes vonne. she challenges me. she dresses
nice. she drives what i am told is a cool car. she tells great stories.
she's willing to drive to portage la prairie simply because it seems like a
different thing to do. she is weird. she is interested in ernesto guevara.
she seemingly likes the ezln. she has a fine appreciation for ringo
starr's acting abilities. she has a mean sense of humour. she has a good
sense of humour. she told me about the soft-porn on tln (which i don't
watch because i am denying myself of earthly pleasures). she thinks that
miss arnold was a bitch to me. she has poor taste in musicals (but tries
very hard). she has a nice smile. she is awkward (in an endearing way).
she can be intense. she can be laid back. she has wonderful eyes. she
helped me with my honours paper. she is witty. she holds unexplainable
hostility towards me... actually thats not a good thing (why, Abbey, why?).
she's a good sport. she can punch surprisingly hard. she sends me emails
(3/4 of which are nice). she is a nice golden colour. she was concerned
about the possible existence of my non-existent iron lung. she appreciates
plants. she likes to watch lightning. she likes good food. she puts up
with my garbage. she has been brave enough to call me. she only holds a
grudge for a short while. she's small. she's purdy. she is interesting.
she makes me feel good. but more than anything, i like Abbey because she
makes lousy bets:

"March 1, 1968 saw the first performance of Joseph and the Amazing
Technicolor Dreamcoat at Colet Court School in London. Andrew Lloyd Webber
and Tim Rice had been commissioned by the school's headmaster to create an
original musical piece for the end-of-term concert. The result was the first
version of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat."
the cheque can be made out to: mitchell k, 55 sheff.... .....
....

bye bye birdie,
asher

p.s. oh, come on. you deserve this.
p.p.s. more or less, all the other stuff i wrote is true. honestly. but
that probably doesn't matter now.
~a fool and her money are soon parted~

June 23, 2003

From: "Mitchell"
To: "Abbey"Subject: warning: evidence of my madness
Date: Tue, 24 Jun 2003 05:11:04 +0000 g'day,

explain -> your use of an exclamation point in your title ("why Abbey doesn't
like (!) mitchell - three ways")baffles me. i'd appreciate a
george-bernard-shaw-stylistic explanation.

there are only three reasons (or in Abbey-speak, 'ways') why you don't like me
(a rhetorical question. please do not answer this)? wow, coming from you,
thats almost like a compliment (using mathematical reasoning). i could
think of at least a dozen reasons why you shouldn't like me (but i wouldn't
want to tip you off). what i actually expected was an explanation, baited
with hyperbole and sarcasm, of why you like me. it would have been the
final insult and i could have said, "forget about her, she's just not worth
the hassle and emotional flesh-wounds". but once again, you didn't bite
(Abbey thinks to herself, "i should've biten, i should've biten." sorry, you
missed your opportunity. i'll be back, same time tomorrow. haha).the 
reason mitchell talks too much: because Abbey was being a child on 
saturday night by refusing to converse. yes, that's right, a child.so, i've 
been laughing secretly to myself for the past 43+ hours. do you
know what an iron lung is (nope, not just a radiohead song)? methinks you
don't. funny girl. i don't think one would fit under my shirt. boy, that
really kills me.

regarding the money that you owe me: under the normal run of things, i
would have said, "oh Abbey, i don't care about the money. it was just a
farmer's bet". and you would've said, "oh mitchell, i'm soooo happy to hear
that," and we would have been merry. unfortunately though, this is not the
normal run of things. the repo-man has been contacted and they'll be by
tomorrow for your shoes (holly hunter speaking to ewan mcgregor in 'a life
less ordinary', the 1997 sleeper film, "we can do this with or without
force. it's entirely up to you". classic [me stealing your joke. i can
imagine you doing a weird spasm right now]). i will use the money to
purchase those 45's i saw at 'into the music' last week. they will then
collect dust on my shelf with all of my other 45's. meanwhile, i will laugh
at the thought of a barefooted Abbey NOT giving her mother a birthday gift.
hmmm.... ahhhh...

OR

you could pay off the debt by pretending to be my girlfriend and making me
popular so that everyone wants to go to the highschool prom with me (during
which time i will mow the lawn for your rich father). the background music
could be a 1964 lennon/mccartney rocker. how perfect? i just made that up.
honestly.

i've spent some time trying to place the master's of the hemisphere. today
it dawned on me: they're a knock-off of the royal guardsmen (both with
their 'concept album' and their sound). this isn't necessarily a bad thing.
the royal guardsmen are great ("blimey no guff, i was a bit busy right
about then." hmmmm).

your pc is broken for good? well, i hope you learned a valuable lesson
about the potential of acquiring a virus through internet porno.my greek 
dinner went off without a hitch. the ouzo was flowing. my
dolmathes were perfect. my tyropitas were delightful. my saganaki,
indescribable. the dinner was complemented by mikis theodorakis playing
'zorba the greek'. i am told that for a vegetarian, i make a mean lamb
souvlaki. iam tha grate-est, evar.

i threw out over 1100 geraniums today. it made me feel great. i hate
geraniums. i was also excited to toss out the nicotiana, too. tonight i
will write a ballad documenting the day's trials. nothing can touch me
(actually, the tomatoes struck a nerve. after work, i dropped off a few
tomato plants at dan's house to save them from an untimely death. he was
thrilled).

some advice: you should probably write a letter to someone that you love
and miss. they will surely appreciate it more than you could ever imagine.
i hate the family circus. it makes me super angry. one time (many moons
ago) i submitted a comic to 'the manitoban'. it was called 'family
jerk-us'. this particular comic featured barfy the dog mounting young pj
(who was crying), with dolly yelling, "mommy! barfy's wrestlin' with pj
again". it was classy. i regret to conclude by saying that 'the manitoban'
never published my comic. communist bastards.

here i conclude, the amalgamation of my thoughts. 1) what have you learned?
2) that mitchell can be mean? 3) that mitchell can be nice? 4) that
mitchell can be serious? 5) or that mitchell jests? 6) why does he play
games? 7) is he just a foolish child? 8) naive? 9) immature? the denouement: 
1) uber alles, if you've taken anything from this email, let
it be this: write a letter to a brother, a cousin, an aunt, an uncle, or an
old friend. 2) no, mitchell is not mean, though he may seem like it
sometimes (he has a knee-jerk reaction to perceived threats). 3) yeah,
mitchell can be nice. he is outwardly polite (though, he does have a little
fire in his belly). just be glad you can't read his thoughts (they may make
you reconsider his honesty to question #2). 4) yes, mitchell can be serious,
but in doing so it opens up soft spots in his armour. ergo, he tries to
avoid this as much as possible. he likes to leave little hints of what he
really thinks. you have to find these clues. 5) yes, probably more than he
should. but this is his armour. 6) the games that he plays are, in part,
an expression of his own insecurities. the other part is simply that he
likes to play games. 7) all signs point to 'yes'. fuck the signs. 8) no,
not naive. he knows where he should and shouldn't be sniffing (sort of like
a dog). 9) immature... i would hope not. its all relative, anyways.

adios senorita,waylon

p.s. i think we should leg-wrestle sometime. i would like very much to
crush you and i doubt (because of your petite frame) that you would stand
much of a chance. then i would laugh at you and say, "take that, senorita,"
or maybe "go home to mama and cry, little girl". that would be a fine
day...p.p.s. have i ever told you that you're a great person? seriously. no
joke. no snide bracketed comments to trample on the serious tone of my
admission. just a compliment. plain and simple. you're great.

~after the turn of the century, in the clear blue skies over germany, came a
roar and a thunder man had never heard, like the screaming sound of a big
war-bird~

June 24, 2003

From: "Mitchell"
To: "Abbey"
Subject: straight-up, no strings attached.
Date: Wed, 25 Jun 2003 05:17:35 +0000

to an often-confused girl, ok, here's the deal. no joking around, no coded 
text, and/or no sneaky metaphors. i promise.

i can't believe how evil freemdoom is. seriously. i imagined that he was
just a poor misguided dog, not a corporate son-of-a-bitch (i jest). i was a
little shocked reading that comic. and i also lost respect for gorgar (even
though he reforms). what is he, some sort of goon (i already know the
answer to this)? a sturm abteilung? may i just say that i am disappointed.
very disappointed. at least manfred von richthofen and snoopy find peace
(though they are certain they'll meet on some other day). how will i sleep
tonight? i'll give your cd back next time i see you (see below).

i like Abbey when she is nice and pats me on the back. it makes me happy
(mitchell's first complete sentences, age 5).

how did the essembly of the table go? i imagined your trials whilst i was
on the boring parts of my tour of the exchange district (which, may i say
was not as bad as i thought it might be).

have you ever seen sam raimi's "army of darkness"? its one of my favorite
movies. it's super funny only because raimi doesn't take it too seriously.
some of the best lines include, "give me some sugar, baby" and "hail the
king, baby".

bob dylan (circa 1963-1967 [i.e. when he was an angry young man]) is super
cool. if "masters of war", "don't think twice, it's alright", and "baby,
let me follow you down" aren't some of the best songs ever, i don't know
what is (are?). (*my mind starts racing*) there's one or two pictures of
bob dylan that i can think of where i'd say he's looking rather handsome.
in every other picture, he's pretty revolting. that (and his crappy-raspy
voice) is/are part of his appeal, i feel. if you're sad that you're not
photogenic, by glad that you aren't bob.

it is incredibly hot in my computer room right now. meat is falling off the
bone.

i leave for rory's cabin on thursday afternoon. i would very much like to
see you before then, if possible (unlike saturday night, Abbey was rather cool
and charming today. she deserves extra dessert or something). may i
suggest either wednesday night (after your class [you do have class, don't
you?]) or thursday morning for breakfast/brunch/lunch? check your (very
busy) schedule and let me know.

i bought a book at the mondragon tonight. my desire: to read the book on
the weekend and appear to be all the more intelligent because of it. my
reality: to have the book sit on my bookshelf untouched, so that
unsuspecting visitors will see it and imagine that i am intelligent (though
i will know the truth). welcome to my world.

adieu et bon soir (or "bon nuit"...? ten years of french education coming
out here. i'm awfully glad it shows), etienne

p.s. les singes dansaient dans la bibliotheque avec les souris. god, help
me! i really should stop while i'm ahead. i only open myself to ridicule.
thankfully Abbey is nice now and won't make fun of me...

~if you desire peace of soul and happiness, then believe; if you would be a
disciple of truth, then inquire.~


--------------------------------------------------------


From: "Mitchell"
To: "Abbey"
Subject: Re: warning: evidence of my madness
Date: Tue, 24 Jun 2003 16:22:59 +0000


"Can I speak to you in person?" this makes me nervous. are you going to 
yell at me?i'll be at the university this afternoon. please be gentle.


~if you desire peace of soul and happiness, then believe; if you would be a
disciple of truth, then inquire.~

June 25, 2003

From: "Mitchell"
To: "Abbey"
Subject: sprechen zee inglish (i just know that this is spelled horribly wrong)?
Date: Wed, 25 Jun 2003 23:11:41 +0000

meet you? parking lot at ten? is that what you want? sorry, my french is
worse than my spanish (imagine that). i will assume that's what you meant.

"Mais je préfère Abbey touchée a Abbey qui touche."
what's this mean? it sounds dirty.

"Et pourquoi tu veux me voire?"
so that i can yell at you. actually, i just want to see your eyeballs (and
pat you on the back).

until later,
mishka

~if you desire peace of soul and happiness, then believe; if you would be a
disciple of truth, then inquire.~

June 29, 2003

From: "Mitchell"
To: "Abbey"
Subject: a fair lady/a weekend to forget
Date: Mon, 30 Jun 2003 02:13:08 +0000

some words:
a fair lady once told me that my eyes are too far apart and my nose is too
short. a compliment masked as an insult? or an insult masked as a
compliment? i cannot decide. i would like to tell her that she could be
more gracious in her approach to human interactions, but at the same time i
find her fumbling to be rather endearing.

a fair lady once asked me if i considered her to be an experiment. i
probably laughed at her suggestion (i do not recall). what i meant to say
was that i am not interested in science. its too apollo-ish for me.
objectivity and truth frighten me. really.

there's a fair lady that i know. i like her, though i feel that she thinks
about things too much (it's not like i should talk, as i have a habit of
analyzing, reanalyzing, and then deconstructuring my analysis). i don't
think that this fair lady should try to read into things too much...i am an
open book (please don't write in my margins).

------------------

a weekend to forget:
after finding myself on an island with (certain) people i have known for
years, i am rather astonished by how little i know about them. what is even
more frightening is that i have discovered that i don't really care to know
much about them. how sad.

god has a (bad) sense of humour: it was pretty miserable all weekend until
i was ready to leave the cabin. then the sun came out.
nothing beats drinking beer in a hot tub, while being naked with some good
friends (the highlight of the weekend).
nothing worse than having these same good friends go home a day early
(saturday rather than sunday) and being left with people you don't know
about/care about.

sometimes i prefer to be left alone (to sit on the dock and contemplate the
cosmos, perhaps?). sometimes people won't leave me alone for more than two
minutes, even if i make a point of quietly sneaking off.

lately, in many aspects, my life has been on a plate for everyone to
examine. i don't really like that too much (it blows my attempt to appear
mysterious [*snickering to myself*] and it serves as ammunition for people
to use against me later [bastards]). this is made doubly worse by the fact
that those who know too much about my personal life are the same
aforementioned ones that i am uninterested in. i must become a recluse.
yes, indeed. this was a weekend to forget.

i hope you are well and that you had a kick-ass weekend (to make up for my
mediocre-to-bad weekend).

regards,
mikhail davidov

p.s. on thursday i had to be in top form for a breakfast date and a lunch
date, and drive out to kenora, all on a mere two and a half hours of sleep.
the moral: Abbey is hazardous to my health.
to hell with morals.
p.p.s. any comments, questions, and/or concerns can be addressed to
kxxxx@hotmail.com. i'd be happy to help you with any problems. thank-you.

~if you desire peace of soul and happiness, then believe; if you would be a
disciple of truth, then inquire.~

July 01, 2003

From: "Mitchell"
To: "Abbey"
Subject: mighty hermaphrodite
Date: Tue, 01 Jul 2003 20:56:52 +0000


allo,

today while i was throwing out old plants (within an hour of arriving at 
work, i snapped a belt on the lawn mower, thus i had to find something else 
to do), i remembered another reason why i thought you could have been a 
hermaphrodite.  it seems to me that you may have had an identity crisis (not 
really) as a youth because of your often-changing name.  weren't you 
nameless for a while?  i figured this could be because you had both male and 
female reproductive organs.  i'm a little relieved to know that you don't 
(not that i would have a problem with that or anything [mitchell is trying to 
sound politically correct.  convinced?]).  phew...
that is all.
catch you on the flipside.

adios,
jesus of nazareth (son of god)

~if you desire peace of soul and happiness, then believe; if you would be a 
disciple of truth, then inquire.~

------------------------------------------------------------

From: "Mitchell" 
To: "Abbey"
Subject: z magazine
Date: Wed, 02 Jul 2003 00:38:18 +0000


che,
howzitgowin?
just a brief note:  i keep meaning to tell you that if you need sources 
(i.e. articles) for your class, that you (or your students) should check out 
www.zmag.org.  once at the website, click on "znet" (its the link at the top 
left portion of the screen).  from there, just scroll down while looking on 
the left side for whatever region your interested in (there's links for 
central america and the caribbean, chiapas, colombia, latin america, etc.).  
there's tonnes (tonnes, not tons) of articles by people like chomsky, klein, 
fisk et al, all free thanks to our anarcho-sydicalist friends at z magazine 
(although most of it is in english, you can still find considerable spanish 
material [the link to the spanish articles is on the left side, too, or you 
can go directly to it with this address www.zmag.org/Spanish/index.htm]).  
you may find it useful, though maybe i should have told you earlier (is it 
too late?).  this is all i have to say (really).

regards,
miguelito.

----end of transmission---
~if you desire peace of soul and happiness, then believe; if you would be a 
disciple of truth, then inquire.~

July 02, 2003

>From: Abbey"
>To: Mitchell
>Subject: Re: mighty hermaphrodite
>Date: Wed,  2 Jul 2003 09:12:07 -0500
>
>~Brevity is not the soul of wit.~
>
>You figure strangely.  All of my names have been decidedly female, with the
>possible exception of Snake Eyes and Yannick (curtesy of Betty Evans - 
>who
>finally had the decency to call me yesterday: "Hello, this is your crappy
>friend Betty..." began the message).
>

From: "Mitchell"
To: "Abbey"
Subject: Re: mighty hermaphrodite
Date: Wed, 02 Jul 2003 21:32:19 +0000


hay thar,

well, there certainly is method and reasoning to my madness.  it is possible 
that your parents struggled to find a name for you (hence your nameless 
period) before they decided to raise you as a girl (and teach you how to 
disguise your rod as a third leg).  their inability to cope with your 
physical appearance could have led them to convince themselves that by 
periodically changing your name, they were somehow altering the reality of 
your being (this sentence probably does not make sense to you, but it is 
logical).  your displeasure with your name may stem from the fact that you 
have a chemical imbalance (this doesn't sound very nice) in your brain, 
which makes you feel masculine, in which case you feel the urge to shed your 
abbey/annie/ruth/whatever skin.  further, in all of my studies, i have yet to 
come across a female 'che'.  several males, but no females.  all of this is 
just bullocks, really.  i know that you do not have a penis.  it was just a 
theory that i developed, that i considered a possiblity for about half a 
day.  i will be sure to keep my theories to myself from now on.

its nice to know that betty wants to be your friend again.  but, does this 
mean that i've completed my function?  having filled the void in betty's 
absence, is mitchell now unnecessary?  a mere liability?  egad!  say it ain't 
so, Abbey, say it ain't so!

i did not snap any belts on the lawnmower today.  i did, however, run over a 
hose, which was cut into two pieces and sprayed water everywhere.  normally, 
i am very mechanically inclined.  normally, i am fairly competent.  
normally, i laugh at other peoples' dumb-ass mistakes.  venus must be 
aligned with jupiter and mars because lately i've been the fool.  or maybe 
it's my diet.  hmmmmm.

are we on for tomorrow?  iam rilly rilly ex-sited two see dinasore bonz.  
what's the plan?  i might stop by your office tonight and we can figure 
something out.  if not, email/call me.

ciao,
mitch
~if you desire peace of soul and happiness, then believe; if you would be a 
disciple of truth, then inquire.~

July 04, 2003

From: "Mitchell"
To: "Abbey"
Date: Fri, 04 Jul 2003 13:24:24 +0000

i just want to wish you a happy birthday. i hope you have a great day.
sorry for the impersonal email, but i didn't want to call you (i saw your
reaction to your student yesterday and i figured if i called when your
friends were over, you might suffer a massive heart attack... just
concerned for your well-being, that's all). have fun today, senorita. i'll
talk to you tomorrow.

regards,
mitch

~if you desire peace of soul and happiness, then believe; if you would be a
disciple of truth, then inquire.~

July 05, 2003

From: "Mitchell"
To: "Abbey"
Subject: please read only if you are drunk/stoned/mad (in a crazy way)
Date: Sat, 05 Jul 2003 06:29:03 +0000

dearest diary,
warning: 1) spelling mistakes are ok. please don't call me on my grammar
right now.

2) if you find that i ask a question (any kind of question) in the course of
this email, please negate it. to answewr it would only ruin me.

a pointless tale: at some point in the day i thought, "gee, mitchell, it
would be great if we (meaning me and any other willing person) threw a great
fourth of july party(which is mildly amusinf given my (and to a point)
rory's diSdain for american domestic and foreign policy)." as soon as i got
home from work, i set the plan in motion. rory was the first willing
participant. he invited me over for a barbeque (which for me involved a
flattened veggie-type concoction [made of many types of beans and herbs.
digusting, really]) and crappy american beer (mgd, to be exact). before
long, i found myself singing out loud to lynard skynard (how embarrassing?)
and calling random people from my little black book (which i conveniently
brought to rory's in anticipation for a rocking evening). the original plan
was to get on bikes and go steal an american flag from somewhere. i don't
even know why i try to make plans. they always fall through. there were
no bikes. there were no american flags. some 12+ beers later (it seems so
juvenile to brag, but i really thought i was a lush. apparently not) I
FOUND MYSELF PLAYING FUSEBALL (oops, caps lock) with an equally drunk gary gomez and flapping my gums about things that are best left to myself
(naturally, i did not realize that other people were in the vicinity). woe
is me. finally mar, put me out of my misery, by driving me home. she's so
stupid. she calls me 'walter' because somewhere in the past two years i
apparently got boring (apologies, senorita, but rumour has it that i used to
be more interesting). here i sit now, with a warm heineken (our eighteen of
mgd ran out, so gary gave me his beer) and some awfully ridiculous thoughts
(which i know i should keep to myself).

how was your night? were the new pornographers any good? (i don't think i
actually remember the name, but...) was neko case looking fine (surely, that
isn't even close to what her name actually is. hey, i'm a little
intoxicated)? i tried calling you, but there was no answer (even despite my
bravery and the half an hour it took to will myself to call). it's not like
you can blame me. have we ever had a pleasant telephone conversation? i
would say 'non' (but only because i love the french). were you actually
hamming it when you saw that girl (the one from your class)? i would think
'no' (this is the part that you're supposed to disregard). i'm not sure if
i told you, but she was fricking staring at me for a long while (enough for
me to make a mental note of). i thought that it was because she thought i
was attractive (sigh)... nope, she was just curious who you were with (i
should stop here). have i told you lately that i think you're great (a nice
subtle change of tone)? really.
...
....
....
(this is me slowly passing out).....
...
oodnight, bbey.
most respectfully,
pierre elliiot joseph proudhon.

p.s. this email has not been revised. please ignore any problems.
actually, pleaese ignore everything about it. i am a fool.

~if you desire peace of soul and happiness, then believe; if you would be a
disciple of truth, then inquire.~

------------------------------------------------------------------

From: "Mitchell"
To: "Abbey"
Subject: ding dong
Date: Sat, 05 Jul 2003 23:39:03 +0000

i have a remarkable capacity to maintain my thoughts and rationale when
consuming alcohol (i concentrate harder). who'd have thought? my writing
is even probably better when i'm cut. and i'm painfully truthful. my motor
skills tend to lag, though. sometimes i slur my words, too. i am proud to
boast that i am house-trained and will not pee or vomit in the wrong places
(unless your name is barry mckenzie and i decide to pee in your wicker waste
basket because i've concluded that i don't actually like you [or your
mother. i actually saw barry mckenzie's mom yesterday at the supermarket
when rory and i were preparing for our fourth of july party. i couldn't
even look at her]). in fact, i would probably give you a "no-vomit"
guarantee (twice. just twice. that's the number of alcohol-related pukes
i've had in all of my forty-two years. it's incredible, really).

if i'm not allowed to send "hum drum messages", then you can't send messages
with any less than 15 sentences. this is a new rule and as the supreme
tyrannical dictator, i recommend that you comply.

cheers,
travis

~if you desire peace of soul and happiness, then believe; if you would be a
disciple of truth, then inquire.~

July 06, 2003

From: "Mitchell"
To: "Abbey"
Subject: evil men have no songs
Date: Sun, 06 Jul 2003 22:24:57 +0000

wow. your email was the electronic equivalent of one caressing my face.
very nice. very nice, indeed. see, you can be kind.

an admission: like squirrels, cats, and Abbeys, mitchell, too, has feelings.
though events have transpired in the not so distant past (five years or so),
which would have desensitized the softest of troops, mitchell is not so
immune from joy, fear, pain, envy (ok maybe not envy), as he may lead on
(don't worry, this is going somewhere). the other day, i decided that i
wanted to buy you a birthday gift. i wanted to buy you something thoughtful
(but which could be written off as mindless). something nice (and at the
same time, bad). something that says, "i like you", without actually
saying, "i like you". a sketchbook seemed ideal (please tell me you opened
the pencil first). so, this is where i stand. this explains the gift.

yes, it was very sincere, despite its delivery (a part of me was afraid
you'd say, "i don't want a present from you." did you note the absence of a
card? that was intentional. i also wanted to write on the inside cover
"art is not a mirror to reflect the world, but a hammer with which to shape
it", but i knew that would make you groan. why do you make me
self-conscious?).

another admission: i do not have any "aquaintances". mostly just friends.
ergo, i would not be mean to them because they do not exist. you are not my
aquintance. you're in your own special grouping, labelled, "undetermined".
on why mitchell is mean: reduced to mathematical calculations, allow me to
explain that the formula of my cruelty is 50:40:10. 50% of it is a defense
mechanism. i do not believe that i was ever mean to you until you started
picking on me. now i have to pick up for my initial slack. for this
portion of my cruelty, you can blame only yourself. 40% is the
often-mentioned school-yard syndrome. as i mentioned previously, i am bob
marsh and i put spiders in your hair only because i have not yet developed
the proper social functions to say, "hey, you know what? i think you're a
great person and i'd like to hold your hand/kiss you/romp wildly with you."
i could have sworn that i was beyond the "school-yard syndrome", but for
some irrational reason, you have brought a return of this juvenile behavior
in me (do you see the pattern yet? i mentioned before that nothing is ever
100% my fault. case in point). the final 10% is undetermined. it is a
secret without an answer. is the universe infinite? when will i die? is
the sky a mere reflection of the sea or the sea merely a reflection of the
sky (i'm sure this one has an answer)? did allende kill himself or die
gloriously defending chilean democracy and socialism? who knows? not you,
not me, not anyone.

what people tell me: i am often told that i have a remarkable capacity to
make people feel very comfortable and safe. people trust me. i can make a
stranger feel like they've known me for years. riddle me this: why are you
different? why are you difficult? why would you feel leary? i do not
understand. are my magical powers useless around you?

i warned god not to let it rain on your picnic today or else i'd be very
pissed. he/she listened. the sun is coming out.

is it your feeling that we actually get along? or is it only when we
converse in your head that we understand one another?
a word on my internal conflict. last night i was tired and could not think
of anything clever to explain the paradox that is mitchell. i really think
that the apollo/dionysus analogy works quite well. for example, i love the
nietzschean maxim, "the formula to my happiness: a yes, a no, a straight
line, a goal." very apollo. on the flipside, i prefer sponteneity. i
don't really want to know how the story ends. very dionysus. nothing too
complex. i am a walking contradiction, but then again, whose not?
you have a rather busy schedule. let's look at mine: sunday night i have
plans, monday night i have plans, tuesday night i have class. wednesday
night i'm free. thursday night i have class. i'm always game for going out
after class (either yours or mine). we'll figure something out. pity that
you're going away this weekend. my parents are going to swan river. i will
be all alone. sigh.

i'd like you to compromise yourself more. be an open book.
good day, ma'am,
mitchell

p.s. did i tell you this: the same part of me that feared you to be a
hermaphrodite also suspected that you would have wickedly nasty breasts (i'm
laughing right now). although i wanted to enjoy them in the past, i just
couldn't bring myself to go near them (part of the reason that i act like a
virgin when i'm near you). history has taught me many lessons, including:
just-because-her-breasts-look-fine-when-she's-dressed-doesn't-mean-she-won't-have-monstrous-nipples.
last night brought me comfort.
i am a new boy-man.
p.p.s. although i said it last night and you scoffed, i do think you are
very beautiful.

~if you desire peace of soul and happiness, then believe; if you would be a
disciple of truth, then inquire.~

July 07, 2003

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July 08, 2003

From: "Mtchell"
To: "Abbey"
Subject: a story
Date: Wed, 09 Jul 2003 05:01:26 +0000

the elusive kiss: there once was a boy named mitchell. he liked to kiss a
girl named Abbey. they would kiss in private places (spatial geographic
locations, not 'those' kind of private places) and they would kiss in public
places (but not too public). one day Abbey drove mitchell home and when they
arrived to his house, he decided he would try an experiment. he wanted to
determine whether Abbey would kiss him in a place where there was potential
that his mother (a very, very nice lady) may be able to see them. oh boy,
mitchell sure wanted to put Abbey on the hot seat. Abbey was quick with her guns
though, and immediately read mitchell like a book (she even wrote in the
margins, despite his pleas). when mitchell leaned in for the kiss, Abbey
quickly pulled away and gave mitchell her
what-the-hell-do-you-think-you're-doing look. satisfied that his experiment
turned out how he expected, mitchell went skipping up his driveway (not
really) to his house. as it was, his mother was not watching in the window,
but rather, was cooking dinner. the postscript: annoyed with mitchell's
antics, Abbey decided that she'd had enough and decided never to talk to
mitchell again, instead joining a convent. mitchell, disappointed with his
falling through with Abbey, decided to take up a life of crime. he was
responsible for a string of robberies through the great lakes region and
down into the mid-west united states. wanted by authorities in two
provinces and eight states, mitchell claimed refugee status in cuba where he
contracted malaria from a mosquito in the oriente region. he died alone.
no one attended his funeral.

today while in class i imagined what my prof would look like if he had some
of your features. i gave him your hair, eyebrows, ears, and mouth. it was
very hideous. i had to make myself stop the game because it was disturbing
me. alas, i was given comic relief when the pregnant lady started talking
about how it is human nature to want to know one's history (blah blah blah).
i sighed out loud. i'm trying to figure out how long it will take her to
realize that i think she is a goof. she probably laughs about the tall
skinny kid who sighs at her and sits through class wearing a grin without
saying a word (i have my role in class completely down pat - i never speak.
i figure 'tis better to be thought a fool, then to open one's mouth and
remove all doubt. besides, i don't want to participate in their rich
discussion. even if i have something to say, i resist the urge to blurt it
out. instead i imagine saying it to them in my head and the horrified looks
that come across their faces).

i finally received my books/cd from g7 welcoming committee (they also sent
me a pamphlet promoting veganism. you should look at it. the pictures are
nasty [actually, thats a good reason not to examine it]). i don't even know
why i bought the chomsky book. i know exactly what he's going to say (after
reading a few of his books, a definite pattern emerges). still, it
entertains me. he is quite brilliant, if repetitive. i like it best when
he talks about anarchism, just because i understand that the popular
conception of anarchists is mean dudes that throw bombs, and not a 65-year
old scholar. i also appreciate his cynicism. ahhh.... chomsky....
my friend ernie emailed from south korea. i was excited until i realized it
was a stupid forward about winnipeg. bastard.

well, i'm tired. goodnight moon, goodnight stars.
michel

~if you desire peace of soul and happiness, then believe; if you would be a
disciple of truth, then inquire.~

----------------------------------------------------------

From: "Mitchell"
To: "Abbey"
Subject: just a brief note
Date: Tue, 08 Jul 2003 17:28:02 +0000

i have an 'appointment' at 1:00pm. then i'll stop by to see you. ok?
maybe i can help you.

~if you desire peace of soul and happiness, then believe; if you would be a
disciple of truth, then inquire.~

July 09, 2003

From: "Mitchell"
To: "Abbey"
Subject: ...and never raise a rebel cry.
Date: Wed, 09 Jul 2003 22:38:20 +0000

wow, that had to have been my worst email ever. i almost fell asleep typing
it. i'm pretty surprised you responded. it certainly did not merit a
response. gee, you're swell (though i prefer to blame your horrid tone on
the weather outside and not because you think me a fool).

"they would kiss in public places (but not too public - because the Abbey the
labrat is sure that the other labrats will get jealous, very jealous)."
yes, i'm sure that's why. i attract lab rats.

*mitchell inhales deeply*

the anarchists of spain... ... catalonia 1936-c.1938 is my number one choice
for "where and when in history would mitchell most like to live?" (a little
ahead of paris [1871], petrograd [february 1917-april 1918] and
nazareth/jerusalem [c. jesus' time... was that b.c. or a.d.? hmmmm.... i
wonder]). i long for those romantic days: the arrival of the international
brigades, the red and black flags, eric blair (soon to be george orwell),
ernest hemingway, the purging of the p.o.u.m. [actually not at all... i
probably would have wept (or been purged)]. it all makes me think of a poem
- "come let us lay a lance at rest and tilt at windmills beneath a wild sky"
- which incidently was the poem that inspired a a young man named fred
thomas to join the brigades in 1936 (have you read his memors?). i echo
your "sigh". spanish peasants in the napoleonic wars are credited with the
first modern use of guerrilla tactics (hence, the name). why, why, why
didn't the loyalists/republicans/marxists/trotskyists/anarchists use
guerrilla warfare against the fascists? it would have made perfect sense.
now i'm sad. ho hum.

i was going to go on another rant, but i haven't the energy. i am sloth.
i will talk to you soon.
mitch

~if you desire peace of soul and happiness, then believe; if you would be a
disciple of truth, then inquire.~

July 10, 2003

From: "Mitchell"
To: "Abbey"
Subject: goodday sunshine
Date: Fri, 11 Jul 2003 05:18:52 +0000

(before you gag, please know the subject heading is just a song that i have
in my head. "...and the sun is up, i got something i can laugh about....").

so my mom was curious why i was late. i made up a wonderful story about how
rory was crying on the phone and i had to comfort him. immediately
afterwards, i changed the subject to my academic future, which kept her
occupied until we got home. thinking i was out of the clear (or is it "in
the clear"? we will suppose that i am a young deer running from a hunter,
thus, to be "out of the clear" means to be safe [i.e. in a wooded area where
the hunter cannot shoot me]), i suddenly remembered the fact that my kitchen
looked like ground zero. oops. so then i made up a wonderful story about
how i wanted to surprise her with dinner (though this didn't explain the two
dirty dishes and two dirty cups on the kitchen table. luckily she wasn't on
the ball). no questions asked. i even straightened out the bed to make
sure it didn't look used (do all moms have the uncanny ability to make beds
perfectly? or did my father inspire her with his military-trained
bed-making capabilities?). i spent the rest of the day with a smile on my
face (except when i was at the pemby and rory was laughing at my expense),
even during class, which is exceptionally strange.

once again i am conflicted: my parents want me to go to swan river with
them for the weekend. a part of me wants to go (the same part that enjoys
campfires and singing/playing guitar with cousin bertha [her real name...
poor girl]), but i part thinks i should stay in the city, do some homework
and take it easy (though everyone i know will either be at folkfest or at a
cabin, yourself included [sigh]). what is poor mitchell to do (i am really
glad i don't have any 'real' issues like wondering where to get my next meal
or whether an B-1 bomber will drop a laser-guided missile into my mudhut)?
hmmmm. i wouldn't mind seeing you saturday afternoon... ummm. hmmm. give
me your expert advice.

did you think i'd actually care if you told your friends about our hot
affair (giggle... "hot affair")? ha. you could post it on the internet, i
would not mind (in fact, i'd encourage you to do so).
well this is where i say goodnight. if i don't talk to you, have a sweet
time at victoria beach (watch out for bears, especially if you consume
mushrooms... jonny to mitchell, "wait a minute! there are no cars at
victoria beach". ahhh, the good ol' days).

ciao,
mciahle

~if you desire peace of soul and happiness, then believe; if you would be a
disciple of truth, then inquire.~

July 13, 2003

From: "Mitchell" 

To: "Abbey"
Subject: josef klima
Date: Mon, 14 Jul 2003 05:21:37 +0000


hi Abbey,

um, i'm not sure if you recall but i met you the other night at the bar.  my 
name is josef.  i was the one that thought you had a super cool car 
(celica's rule!).  you wouldn't give me your phone number, but you said i 
could email you.  so this is me, emailing you.  how are you?  were you 
pretty sick after the bar??  you seemed to be pretty drunk.  i was really 
surprised when that bouncer tackled you off the bar table.  i thought you'd 
be knocked unconscious for sure.  i hope you went to the hospital the next 
day, as the signs of massive head injuries aren't always apparent 
immediately.  i know this because my great uncle phillip was in a car 
accident back in the 1970s (before seatbelts) and went through the 
windshield.  remarkably, he appeared to be alright (albeit for a few minor 
flesh wounds).  a few days later, while shovelling manure, ol' uncle 
phillip's jugular exploded (a massive blood clot.  disgusting, really).   i 
hope you learn from uncle phillip: please get your head checked out (if you 
haven't already).

i've been thinking about you all weekend.  there's something about you.  
when you said, "skunky beer is like being struck by lightning; bring it on, 
zeus!", i thought to myself, "now this girl is a keeper."  i think you are 
brilliant.  and daring.

anyways,  i think we made a real connection at the bar.  i believe (as sure 
as i believe that the voice in my head is that of jesus) this is something 
that could blossom into a beautiful new relationship.  please, please, 
please email me back (i don't know if i can go on without seeing your 
mesmorizing blue eyes).
affectionately,
josef klima

p.s. i already told my mom about you.  she'd really like you to come to our 
house to meet you.  the doctor gives her day passes, so she's able to meet 
you sometime this week after tuesday (but she has to return to the hospital 
for her shock treatments on saturday, after which, she is usually a little 
dazed for a few days.  further, usually the day before she returns to the 
hospital [in this case friday], she is quite prone to violent mood swings 
and her nerves make her nauseous [often just a case of mild diarrhoea].  
still, she's out of commission, so perhaps, wednesday or thursday would be 
best).  i can't wait to hear from you.

~if you desire peace of soul and happiness, then believe; if you would be a 
disciple of truth, then inquire.~

July 14, 2003

From: "Mitchell"
To: "Abbey"
Subject: i am born again
Date: Mon, 14 Jul 2003 22:04:35 +0000


um, its josef.  so what if your dad is in town?  i'd really love to meet 
him, but it seems you are more interested in my friend mitchell (who isn't?  
he's a real catch, despited the moles and holes [hey, he's a little 
sensitive, too - if you touch him in the wrong way, he will collapse and his 
leaves will close up]).

mitchell tells me to tell you (chinese telephone-like): despite the arrival 
of your father, he would still like to see you tonight, though he insists 
that you shave (i'm not sure what he means by this).  he also says that your 
the most interesting girl that he's met at the bar in a long time.

fucking mitchell.

yours,
josef klima

~if you desire peace of soul and happiness, then believe; if you would be a 
disciple of truth, then inquire.~

----------------------------------------------------------

From: "Mitchell"
To: "Abbey"
Subject: whilst lost in a large bowl of human soup, i thought to myself...
Date: Mon, 14 Jul 2003 22:58:05 +0000


in our never-ending task to differentiate the truth from the absurd, we, the 
undersigned, wish to clarify some statements which appeared in an email 
entitled "i am born again":

1) mitchell k does not wish to meet your father.  he is not opposed 
to it (he likes parents), but he does not feel that it is of primary 
importance.  josef klima, on the other hand, would love to meet your entire 
family, friends, and neighbours.  he is strange, but we must not hold this 
against him.

2) mitchell k would like to see you tonight.  he wants to kiss your 
neck (among other things).

3) mitchell k is sensitive.  he is aware of his moles and holes and 
does not like mention of them.  he will tolerate such comments, but be 
prepared for retaliation (not really toleration at all).

4) mitchell k does not think that you necessarily need to shave any 
part of your anatomy.  he was trying to be rude (see #3).

signed,

mitchell k
josef klima


~if you desire peace of soul and happiness, then believe; if you would be a 
disciple of truth, then inquire.~

July 15, 2003

From: "Mitchell"
To: "Abbey"
Subject: classic motifs such as hearts, stars, stripes, flags.... blah.
Date: Tue, 15 Jul 2003 17:17:33 +0000


remember: "there is always reason to madness."  your father's actions are 
completely rational.  to call the number by the phone could have only 
confirmed his worst suspicions.  'tis better to wait for you to come home 
and make you call, this way you could break the news of the horrible 
automobile accident/gas explosion/hungry bear/serial killer/al queda suicide 
attack that claimed the lives of your family to your delicate father gently. 
  in the meantime, it probably seemed fit to bury his head in the sand.

i like my mother's tact: she comes in my room at 8am and says, "are you 
coming to the school with me or are you tired since you didn't get home 
until 3:30am?"  busted?  i think not.  i regret to inform her that before i 
left the house last night, i had mentioned that i would either be arriving 
home early or very late.  nothing in between.  though i recognize the 
subjectivity of such a statement, i feel that 3:30am qualifies as "very 
late".  so what's the problem here?  she thinks that she's so clever, but 
it's not like i have anything to hide.  i predict that when she gets home, 
we will go through the whole "so, who were you with?  what did you do?" 
scenario.  its like clockwork.  i will drop her hints and when she retreats 
to her craftroom (which should be her painting studio, but she hasn't even 
touched the canvases i bought her [and she seemed so excited to receive 
them...]), she'll try to put it all together.  speak of the devil!  my dear 
mother just called.  the conversation panned out exactly as i said it would, 
though she's at work and cannot contemplate our communique in her craftroom. 
  the lunchroom will have to suffice.

"When was the last time you were watched by a jealous, irrational father 
while you made out in front of a latina's house?"
ahhh, young alma guiterrez.  so young.  so ripe (hehe, stealing your 
word)...  (ok, there is no such person.  i made her up.  she's the best 
friend of bob marsh and second cousin to josef klima).  i admit, last 
night i lost my 
making-out-in-front-of-a-latina's-house-while-her-father-looks-on virginity. 
  in fact, i'd venture to say that that was the first time any father (not 
just a latino) has done that (to my knowledge).  though, i'm not sure why 
he'd be "jealous".  does he want to make out with me, too?  i'll put him on 
the waiting list (sadly, he'd probably be second or third in line.  ho hum).

have fun at the cabin.  don't get killed in/by a/an horrible automobile 
accident/gas explosion/hungry bear/serial killer/al queda suicide attack.  
chances are, if you are reading this, none of the above happened, nor will 
my wish of "fun at the cabin" really matter.

your boyfriend,
franz
~if you desire peace of soul and happiness, then believe; if you would be a 
disciple of truth, then inquire.~

--------------------------------------------------------------

From: "Mitchell"
To: "Abbey"
Subject: hey, you've got to hide your love away (?)
Date: Wed, 16 Jul 2003 04:18:18 +0000


an email on age OR how to go slowly insane without allowing your friends to 
know (actually this email consists entirly of the former and nothing of the 
latter):

Abbey is thirty-seven.  mitchell is twenty-two.  allow us to continue from 
here.

a (slightly-modified) groucho marx quote to lighten the load of your 
self-prescribed moral indecency:  "A woman is only as old as the man she 
feels."

the feminist critique (the second half of this paragraph reads like 
propaganda [though not chinese propaganda]):
in discussion, my spiritual advisor (a cruel-hearted tamil militant oozing 
with 'woman-ness') remarked to me that an older woman (i.e. you) should 
possess an unequaled sense of empowerment that she should be able to wrap a 
young man (me) around her finger (well, maybe its not quite like that, but 
still, the sentiments run true).  certainly, the 'wimmin' at the womyn's 
centre would all be in your corner.  you are in a position of strength.  you 
are your own woman.  you've done something that many women your age dream 
(fantasize, really) about.  to hell with preconceived notions of 'proper' 
gender roles within an interaction between a woman and a man.  that shite is 
so painfully victorian it makes me want to vomit (in fact i did vomit when i 
thought about it, though it may have something to do with the large 
quantities of sherry that i consumed [a joke.  honestly]).

the conservative critique:
there are people who would say, "that's disgusting, what is he/she doing?" 
and think that we were insane.  there are people who think that homosexuals 
should not be allowed to marry (i'm sure you've read the letters to the 
editor in the free press).  some of these people also think that anglo saxon 
types should not reproduce with genetically-inferior types for fear of 
losing the 'pure' physical characteristics of the anglo saxon (these ones 
are especially mean).  these people attend church and have block parent 
signs in their windows.  they also drive minivans (for the mom) and suv's 
(for the dad).  we should avoid them at all costs and ignore their 
criticisms.

the marxist critique:
that a woman of your age should find herself attracted to a man my age is 
merely a historical inevitability.  it is unavoidable.  to deny it is to 
deny history.  to deny history is to deny the revolutionary potential of the 
proletariat (and one wouldn't want to do that).

in conclusion:
i enjoy being with you and i suspect that you enjoy being with me.  for me 
that is enough.  no qualifications, no 'ands', 'ifs' or 'buts'.  i, for one, 
do not care what other people may think.  it is my belief that our age 
difference is only as big of a deal as you make it.

that said, i hope that v.b. was fun and i look forward to seeing you.

catch you on the flipside,

benoit (i like this name)

~if you desire peace of soul and happiness, then believe; if you would be a 
disciple of truth, then inquire.~

July 16, 2003

From: "Mitchell"
To: "Abbey"
Subject: two emails, eh? hmmmm.
Date: Wed, 16 Jul 2003 22:12:15 +0000

see, god does have a (bad) sense of humour. you spend time writing (typing)
two emails and i contemplate what they could have said. i tell myself that
this problem probably happens with everyone you email, but it most likely
doesn't. god is a rat (with a long disgusting tail).

i rescued a bird today. very heroic. two karma points for mitchell (ahhh,
if only it worked like that).

ten o'clock sounds most splendid. i'll either be in the greenhouse cafe or
the computer lab. just so you know, i'll be the guy with fake blond hair
and wearing a big grin on my face.

regards,
tomas

~if you desire peace of soul and happiness, then believe; if you would be a
disciple of truth, then inquire.~

-----------------------------------------------------------------

From: "Mitchell"
To: "Abbey"
Subject: Re: hey, you've got to hide your love away (?)
Date: Thu, 17 Jul 2003 02:32:08 +0000

"10ish?"
no, i'm not really up for anything too active. i generally draw the line at
ping pong. get it? 10ish...ten-ish...tennish...tennis... ... ... no? oh
fuck, nevermind.

~if you desire peace of soul and happiness, then believe; if you would be a
disciple of truth, then inquire.~

July 17, 2003

From: "Mitchell"
To: "Abbey"
Subject: good
Date: Thu, 17 Jul 2003 15:31:57 +0000

i'm feeling rather unsatisfied this morning. inexplicable. do you know the
feeling when it seems that something is missing or not in its right place?
i can't get a good deep breath of air. *grumble, grumble, grumble*
so this is a disclaimer (we all would like to have clean hands):

1a) incoherent blabber after 2:00am CANNOT be held against me. its not my
fault. my brain gets tired. as for the rest of the day, incoherent blabber
should be treated accordingly.

1b) should my incoherent blabber annoy/bug/hurt/offend/anger you, please
remember that i like you. i'm (usually) not trying to aggravate you, but
sometimes it happens. i am a fool. you are not. thus, you must be
periodically tortured with my myopic comments and statements.

2a) slippages of my tongue, which may seem like brutal attempts to disguise
my voice as a brit, are purely accidental. notice how it seems to happen
late at night? my mouth (like my brain) gets tired and i cannot make
regular phonetic sounds. what you hear is not anything that i regard as
smooth/cool/funny/charming. quite the opposite in fact (though i am not
conscious of doing it): it really really really (to the nth degree)
embarrasses me when you call me on it ("do you think you're ewan mcgregor or
something?" ...gasp! please shoot me). trust me: i really would not be
speaking like that if i was aware of it. it is ridiculous.

2b) something that i am aware of: when talking to someone with a british
accent (at any time of the day), i do put on an accent (chad's dad used to
live in scotland and whenever he drinks, he starts speaking with an accent.
weird, no?). this, too, is unconscious, but i have noticed it before . it,
too, is embarrassing (but a little more understandable and explainable than
my late night voice conversions). the long and short of all of this is: i
do not intentionally change my voice. trust me, if i had some control over
it, i certainly would not be talking like a dork. my recommended course of
action: just ignore it if it happens in the future. spare me the shame.

if you read this before you go to v.b., i wish you a good trip. i hope your
car doesn't fuck up.

adios,
jonas

~if you desire peace of soul and happiness, then believe; if you would be a
disciple of truth, then inquire.~

--------------------------------------------------------------------

From: "Mitchell"
To: "Abbey"
Subject: a ridiculous email
Date: Thu, 17 Jul 2003 16:54:19 +0000

i just finished emailing you and a new message just popped up from you.
wow, technology. in case you worry, my appointment today went well. now
you can sleep gently (not like babies, who wake up every hour. i know this
because i am a father. did i ever tell you about my son? he's great. i'll
show you pictures some day).

1) 3:00am is too late. 2:00am is much better, for reasons explained in my
previous message.

2) i can respect your desire to live outside of time (i have a theory about
time and thought processes and how they affect one another [something about
how time passes slower for smarter people]. remind me and i'll explain it
to you [its actually not that complex]). admittedly, time frightens me. so
does conventiality. i dread being conventional, though i am painfully so.
at least, in my head i can convince myself that this isn't how it is. in my
head, i can convince myself of many things. did i ever mention that i think
'Abbey Chronic" is pretty clever? i'll bet you were pretty excited when you
discovered that it was a suiting name.

3) i do not have a particular disdain for wide open spaces. they are very
zen.

4) you need not worry about rory. he sits on his ass all day without a job
and periodically rides around in his wheelchair (he fears walking: if he
were to trip, he might fall forwards and knock all of his teeth out [which
isn't too difficult given his acute case of scurvy]) to go to 7-11 for pepto
bismal and hot dogs. dan, on the other hand, works at the university and
was the actual subject of my inquisition and anecdote. he, too, sits around
all day and rides on a lawn tractor all over campus (he gets paid for it.
it is his job). you'll probably notice him now that i've mentioned his lawn
tractor. he sticks out like a sore thumb. i see him everytime i'm on
campus. now, the ball will be in your court. soon i will be able to say to
him, "hey danielo, Abbey said she saw you today. she said your tits bounced
everytime your lawn tractor hit a bump." he will then call me a fucker and
start to think about the days when he was in good shape. maybe it'll
inspire him to start watching his weight a little. ahhhh.... beautiful.

5) "when i grow up to be a man" (my favorite bad beach boys song). i
promise i will be polite and kind and gentle when i am all big and strong.
i will treat everyone with respect. until then.....

6) besides 'lady', you have also been referred to as a girl/woman/spanish
teacher/comrade/child/friend/lover/chica/senorita/miss/headache (i jest).
how's that for all-encompassing? i'd say it fits well with your
anachronistic worldview ("both a child and a woman? impossible").
i just received your second email. now here's something that will really
blow your mind: not only did we type emails at the same time, but we also
read and responded at the same time. creepy.

i still disagree: you will break my heart and leave me as nothing more than
a little puddle of cynicism, misery, and disillusionment. its already been
decided upon and i've come to accept it: fate has purchased, measured, cut,
and tied little knots in my skein. jupiter has aligned with mars and venus.
the (fake) yellow-haired boy, full of curious wonder and a sense of
immortality, will be cut to size. a little part of the boy will die and
another part will be reborn. it will be awful and yet, beautiful at the
same time. and with that said and done, everything will be alright. there
will be no regrets. like he/she/it did on the seventh day, god will sit
back and say, "this is good." the little yellow-haired boy will get up,
lick his wounds and agree with god. and through it all, your hands will be
clean. until you've discovered a way to undo time, this will be how the
story unfolds: martyrdom awaits; strap bombs to my chest and tell me what
time the bus arrives. until then, i will enjoy every moment of this.
(wow, that second-to-last sentence is horribly insensitive. i'm tempted to
delete it, but i won't).

well, i bid you farewell.
i will talk to you on a later date.

regards,
ali

~if you desire peace of soul and happiness, then believe; if you would be a
disciple of truth, then inquire.~

July 21, 2003

From: "Mitchell"
To: "Abbey"
Subject: ahhhh's can be good, its all how you look at it (a little matter of perspective)
Date: Tue, 22 Jul 2003 05:25:04 +0000

"Be a deer an be available on Wednesday, won't you?"
proceeding with caution.... what day does hunting season open? methinks it
isn't until september. have you ever seen photos/videos of those deer-type
animals that live in indochina and breathe with gills (maybe they don't
breathe with them, but they certainly have them). freaks me out. no joke.
i was thinking about that email i sent you last week. did it have the
mental diarhhea about how i refer to you on it (i.e.
lady/woman/girl/friend/......)? if so, then that was perhaps the greatest
email ever. boy, i sure wish i could have read a witty response to it (it
had soooo much bait in it for you).

why i am a wreck: i think i have a god-complex. what a pity. further, i
was recently called a nihilist by danielo paulo spanu. last week, someone
told me they regret the time they've known me (2.5 years). ...and i wonder
why i was so intrigued by the frogs that were stuck in the greenhouse
siding.

on the brightside: tonight my father informed me that they (both him and my
mom) love me. how nice (though it was in response to some self-deprecating
humour)? i also have good health. my job isn't too stressful. and i
generally regard myself as upbeat and chipper these days (even if a little
tired).

as you are a cowardly lion (i don't like the cowardly lion [and i thought
the tinman was creepy. the scarecrow was the frickin' best]), may i suggest
that we go out for dinner on wednesday? somewhere nice. somewhere good.
somewhere that has a vegetarian option. what do you think?

evidence of fascism (?): i have two pairs of leather shoes - a pair of doc
martens shoes that andrew merryweather gave me in grade eight that i
affectionately refer to as my 'old brown shoes' (like the beatle song and
which, remarkably, still fit me. weird) and a pair of doc marten boots that
i no longer wear, but still possess, from back in the days when i used to
curb-stomp anyone that i regarded as different than me (somewhere between
the time that katelyn ross began to corrupt my mind [grade twelve] and my
hanging-out-with-the-communists days [second year university, maybe?]).
only kidding - i didn't curb-stomp anyone that i regarded as different...
just people with underbites. still, i do not wear these shoes and purchased
them before i started caring about animals (who am i trying to kid? i don't
care about animals). so if you think it makes me sound more interesting (i
need all the help i can get), please tell people that i am an
environmentally-conscious individual. oh, and i also own a duster (all
cow-leather. very soft). its from my cowboy days (grade nine). i haven't
worn it in many many years (actually i've probably only worn it five or six
times altogether), but it still hangs in the closet two feet from where i'm
typing this email.

its bedtime.
goodnight,
mitch

~if you desire peace of soul and happiness, then believe; if you would be a
disciple of truth, then inquire.~

-------------------------------------------------------------------

>From: "Abbey"
>To: Mitchell
>Subject: Re: a ridiculous email
>Date: Mon, 21 Jul 2003 12:07:09 -0500
>
>I ANSWERED THIS E-MAIL ALREADY.
>GUESS WHAT HAPPENED?
>ARE YOU AVAILABLE WEDNESDAY, 9:45PM - THURSDAY 1:59AM?
>PLEASE REPLY,
>ABBEY
>

From: "Mitchell"
To: "Abbey"
Subject: hmmm...grumble....ahhhh....grumble....growl....sigh
Date: Mon, 21 Jul 2003 21:24:58 +0000

maybe i am available during those hours. we'll see. what, you already have
plans tonight? hmph. i might add that i am not booked (ha) at all tomorrow
(afternoon or evening - no class), but i suspect that you will be at the
beach. pity.

advice: try saving your emails just before you send them. this way if it
gets dumped, you'll have a back-up.
maybe i'll call you. hmmmm. that would save me from having to check my
emails (no one else emails me anymore... sigh) and would demonstrate my
capacity to initiate proper modes of communication.

mit chell

~if you desire peace of soul and happiness, then believe; if you would be a
disciple of truth, then inquire.~

July 22, 2003

From: "Mitchell"
To: "Abbey"
Subject: for the bored
Date: Tue, 22 Jul 2003 21:26:22 +0000

do you know what i like? your answer is probably, "i know some of the
things you like, but i'm sure there are a plethora of things that i don't
know about" (either that or, "no, and frankly, i don't care." i much prefer
the former). that would be a good response. well, let me tell you
something that i really appreciate. from where i sit in the library (my
most favoritest[est] place to study *gag*) i can see, through a square
window, a part of the administrations building (the top half - though not
all of it). on a clear day (well, not entirely clear. its nice to have a
few clouds), the building contrasts beautifully with the sky. it gives me
shivers (like someone breathing in my ear). i'd like to take a photograph
of it, but i know it wouldn't turn out as good as the real thing. its great
to focus on it when i'm lost in thought (today i was thinking about how some
people believe that everything has a price. everything can be bought and
sold, even human dignity. what a mad idea. it really makes me sad...
sigh).

i also like warm sand on my feet.

i also like rory's boathouse (in need of a coat of paint - though i really
hope they don't paint it. the chipped paint adds character and tells of the
storms that it has weathered).

that's all.
mitchell

~~if you desire peace of soul and happiness, then believe; if you would be a
disciple of truth, then inquire.~~

July 23, 2003

From: "Mitchell"
To: "Abbey"
Subject: ahhhh. ahhhhh. ahhhh.
Date: Wed, 23 Jul 2003 23:03:23 +0000

howdy. i imagined that you wouldn't return my phone call. i was right
(though it didn't take a brain surgeon to hypothesize this). in the event
that you might check your email before class: i'll be in the greenhouse cafe
after 9:00pm. come find me.

ciao,
gabriel

~if you desire peace of soul and happiness, then believe; if you would be a
disciple of truth, then inquire.~

-------------------------------------------------------------

From: "Mitchell"
To: "Abbey"
Subject: a little help from your "friend"
Date: Thu, 24 Jul 2003 01:06:20 +0000

my dear "friend" karen:
i called your bluff (though it was rather obvious [i could see into your
hand - one card short of a pair of three's]) and called you again at about
5:10 (see, i am capable of pity and compassion. mom wasn't lying after
all). no answer. i assumed you'd gone out for supper. sigh. i considered
being cruel and stopping by your office before your class, but then
remembered that i am now a good person who does not do things just to get a
rise out of people. yep, that's right. i've turned over a new leaf/started
a new chapter/looked over a clean sheet - no more getting people to do
things/react to certain situations just for my own enjoyment (i suspect that
this will last until about 10:46pm tonight). once more, i have been born
again.

help for you: in your times of email crisis, may i offer you solace... and
a solution. after you've typed the email (but before you've tried sending
it or saving it), highlight the text, right click the mouse, and copy your
message. then try sending it/saving it. if it erases, simply start a new
message, right click the mouse again, and paste the saved message. repeat
this process (i.e. the instructions since "if it erases") until the email
has been sent. this is my advice. this is my assistance. this is me being
selfish (i want to read your literary works of art).
and remember: no one ever hurt their eyes by looking at the bright side of
things...(?)

until the revolution (and probably after it, too, if i don't end up with my
back to the wall) and from the great plains in the middle of the north
american continent,
comrade avery ross, comandante

~if you desire peace of soul and happiness, then believe; if you would be a
disciple of truth, then inquire.~

July 25, 2003

From: "Mitchell"
To: "Abbey"
Subject: batta-bing
Date: Fri, 25 Jul 2003 21:58:49 +0000

please, "krauss" embarasses me. it sounds like a rapper or something and a
rapper i am not. "mitchell" marginally embarasses me as well.
i've tried to change it to something more professional like "M.D.
K" or something ridiculous (and slightly more humorous) like
"Miguelito, defender of justice and loyal friend to all the animals of the
great forest" or "Pierre Laforte", but hotmail (as in the corporate
identity) won't let me. they insist i pay them money. thus, whenever i
email people who regard themselves as my "superior", i always squirm a bit
when i press "send". my personal favorite response comes from my old friend
("old" in both age [63] and the time i've known him), jake vernon (economics
prof and your fellow recipient of the "mitchell k. card of
appreciation". he's even done one better than you: he also received a
postcard from me while i was in utrecht - it was a picture of two lambs
trying to have sex ["trying" because they were very young and probably
unable to mate]. granted, i've never seen him naked... [josh and david have
had this pleasure while showering with him at the gym. mmmmmm]) : whenever
he emails me, he signs it "tricycle josh". even now, it still makes me
smile.

disclaimer: my last email was not supposed to be exciting. it was supposed
to possess maximum utility (did it?). strictly business. no fun and games.
sorry to disappoint ("disappoint" is an interesting word. consider it for
a moment: disappointed would seem to be the inverse of appoint [in the sense
that at one time, a person [you/me/my mom/daniel spanu] was appointed [to a
job or something], then did something wrong [maybe sexual harassment, maybe
theft] to be relieved of their job/position/whatever. they have thus been
dis-appointed. "mitchell must be disappointed/dis-appointed. he lost his
job" [incredible: this explanation makes little-to-no sense]).
if i am sage, you are thyme (this is clever for two reasons).
i am not filled with ennui. i am not filled with anything (i missed lunch).

"Has your talent dried up?" at which point did i have talent? how could
i have missed this?

older women mistake me for movie stars. you mistook (note verb tense) me
for someone with talent (no matter what you try to say, you cannot possibly
negate the declaration that became stunningly apparant in your message - YOU
THOUGHT I HAD TALENT! *still chuckling to myself*. your father mistakes me
for a filipino with a truck. who is this mitchell k? he sounds
rather interesting (just a guise... really, he's boring [bite at this one,
little fishy]).

"MacCauly Caulkin" -> cruel jokes are not effective when spelt incorektly
(unless they're a mockery). "Abbey, C- -a noble attempt that left
something to be desired. better luck next time."

i went to the pemby last night for josh's going away party. i am not
entirely sure why i attract men. it baffles me. upon arriving, i was
immediately sexually assaulted by a young man named charlie dross. under
threat of eternal shame, he made me kiss him and lick his face. very
distasteful. later when saying bye to josh, he (josh, not charlie)
embraced me and said, "kiss me, comrade." how could i refuse? its funny
because when i was walking into the pemby prior, i was commenting to rory
and david about the homo-eroticism of lou reed. how suiting.

well, i'm going to go eat dinner. my stomach tells me that it is very
hungry. i think i'll go to the fringe festival tonight (staying away from
the dadas, though. "holy fiddlesticks, batman! that show we saw was
awful").

yours,
richard gere

p.s. say "hi" to james for me.

~if you desire peace of soul and happiness, then believe; if you would be a
disciple of truth, then inquire.~