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.~