[Edit: "HSBF" is better known as That Idiot Shawn.]

Once upon a time, when I was way the fuck too young and stupid, I had the honor to be a guest at one of my high school best friend's parties, this one to be afterwards known as "the ill-fated orgy." I was a freshman at the University of Alaska Fairbanks, and the year was 1998.

The guests at this party were as follows:

J*, a very sweet girl, the best friend of my college roommate
M*, my college roommate
Poppa Smurf, a guy who was only 18 like most of the rest of us, but looked overage
HSBF, that idiot my high school best friend
C*, HSBF's girlfriend
T*, a friend of J* and C*, very detached from the whole thing
G*, this chick
Tomcat, G*'s fuck of the moment, a very sweet guy
R*, HSBF's best male friend, dating/fucking J*
Mel, the ditzy chick from a few doors down on my floor in the dorms, fired from her job as a student police officer, turned down by the paramedics as a volunteer

...and me.


Everybody showed up at some point or other. There was drinking, laughing, loud music, talking, gossip, smoking weed. I did not participate in that very much, if at all. I can't remember. Poppa Smurf drank some hydrogen peroxide because we'd hidden the booze from him (he was totally plastered and hitting on J* invasively) and got extremely sick. Mel and M* left with him, leaving:

J* and R*;
HSBF and C*;
G* and Tomcat
T*, and me.

Naturally, one would think that in a situation where people were getting naked and stuff like that, that the uncoupled people, seeing as one was male and the other female, would couple up together. Not so. I had really no attraction towards T*, and he had none toward me; we were in perfect agreement on that score. T* left.

The girls in the group, myself included, were by this time very drunk, and we decided to make it a chicks' night out, and piled into the computer room with J*'s massage lotions, and all stripped down and gave each other backrubs, no guys allowed. I did one of those tearful "I'm so glad for the two of you" Drunken True Confessions to C*, saying I was cool with whatever she and HSBF did as long as he was happy. R* leaned on the door and wanted to come in. We said: "No men allowed."

"But what if I cross-dress?" R* wanted to know.

So R* became Roxie, and entered. Tomcat became ... umm, Tonya, I think. HSBF wanted to enter, but refused to take on a female persona, and was barred from entering. He got mad, punched out the door, and went out to his car to sulk. I sent C* after him to cheer him up, which she did quite well.

It eventually turned out that everyone else, all the couples, went into the bedroom and fucked. A fucking orgy. I was left out. Pissed me off to no end, even through the alcohol, and *nothing* disturbs me when I'm drunk. They were in there for what seemed like hours.

I know I'm screwing up the chronology of this, because I know that T* was there while the orgy was happening, and so was Poppa Smurf, because he was standing on his head against the computer room door, talking to the cat, and writing very bad poetry in a notebook I happened to have with me. So the orgy must have happened before Mel and M* got there. Ah, I love chronology.

But I was pissy. I drank a total of five shots of whiskey that night. I'd only ever drunk a bit of rum in soda before, so I was totally drunk. Apparently at some point M* advised me against drinking that fifth shot. I drank it anyway, nothing to take away the burning down my throat.

The night is a blur. I do remember that at one point I walked out to the outhouse (Alaskan plumbing, don't you love it?) totally stark naked, this in the middle of winter, except for my shoes, and found it very funny that I was doing so. I wobbled and stumbled, but didn't fall, not even once.

There was another cute moment with three redheads in one bed -- J*, C*, and G*. My hair wasn't red at this point.

I didn't get laid. I had a very bad time. Poppa Smurf and I didn't talk to each other much after the event, not that we'd talked to each other much before. J* and I were still friends. C* and I.... well, the less said there the better.

yes, this is a very disorganized post. I defy you to remember anything that happened under the same sort of circumstances, given that HSBF was Prime Candidate #1 for marriage, way back when, and he'd even made some comments to that effect in my presence...

980208.1030, Sun
I realized yesterday that I have won! I have emerged victorious from my long and drawn-out battle with you-know-who. The decisive battle may be referred to by the quote "Down once more to the dungeon of my black despair/ Down we plunge to the prison of my mind." I know what it means. He knows what it means. I know that I've won. He doesn't know that, I believe. He'll realize it soon enough.

Tuesday, February 18, 1997 14:26

One interesting discussion is a comparison of Shawn’s opinion of his prowess as a lover to Josh’s opinion of his [Josh’s] prowess as a lover. Josh is a heck of a lot more secure of himself than Shawn is, I’ve discovered, although neither really hesitated to discuss the subject. I had that discussion with myself the other few days, Sunday asking both Josh and Shawn, thinking about it today as well as then.

January 20, 1997
Well. Odd things going on today. While in the spiritual world, Destiny

January 21, 1997
got bitten by a vampire, became pregnant, and got married at midnight last night.

Anyway, I got my new schedule today, and I have absolutely no classes with Shawn, although I do have my class at Hutch when he has his class at Hutch. I get the feeling that I’m the only one of the girls who will become “one of the guys” when Shawn is concerned.

Oh, speaking of Shawn, we were at fencing again…and Father Sir came to pick me up…he and Shawn did talk, and I think that Shawn has made another conquest. I don’t think Father Sir minds him quite so much anymore. I think, in fact, that Shawn secretly reminds Father Sir of his own mis-spent youth. More power to thee, Shawn, and may you have many long days as a member of my family. Maybe the father-in-law and son-in-law won’t be at war.

January 14, 1997

Joshian New Year’s was yesterday, and oh boy was that strange. You see…well, things have definitely gotten strange around here.

Yesterday was my second semi-serious proposal of marriage. I made this not to Josh, but to Kim. Yes, Kim. I think I’m falling in love, and I really shouldn’t be. I’m not sure why. She rejected it, of course; somehow this makes me think that Josh is going to hear strange things about me.

I talked with several people on the phone yesterday. I talked with Gretta; she is going to go to court for a Class 2 Misdemeanor or a Second Degree Misdemeanor or something like that. She was in possession of marijuana at school, which was not a good thing.

Shawn is gaining respect in Emily’s eyes; he is learning how to program his TI-82 and improving rapidly. This is a good thing. She wants his here-address, which I don’t have. I’ll have to get it to her.

Kim is collecting good quotes, and apparently I am quite a provider of them. I have said many things concerning…oh, many things. I must remember to write her the story of my phone call to Shawn after I got off the phone with her.

I was talking to Kim, and I made my second semi-serious proposal of marriage. It was to her. The first was to Emily. I have, however, made strong hints to Josh, but those don’t qualify as proposals. The strongest thing I’ve ever done to Josh in that respect would be called more a proposition, I fear. But anyway, I asked Kim to marry me. She refused, albeit in a good-natured way. After we were kicked off the phone, I called Shawn. After “Hello,” “Hello,” was said on either side of the phone line, I complained, phrasing carefully, “I’m pouting. My second semi-serious proposal of marriage was rejected!”

I was not aware that Shawn had been programming at the time that I called him. However, I soon became aware of this when he shouted, in that way you shout when you have just heard or accomplished something excellent, “YES!!”

After an initial shocked moment, where it seemed to me that Shawn had just shouted “YES!!” at the news of my rejection, I began to laugh, because that was obviously a clueless “YES!!” It was hilarious. And then he began to talk about how he had been debugging…I cracked up absolutely, and had to tell him the story. It’s one for Much Ado. No; it’s one for the Trilogy That Isn’t.

I called Kim again today, and left a message on the machine about the hilarious incident that had to do something with the question that my friend Shanna had asked her. Her family listens to the machine, you see, and I had to say something that did not disturb them unduly. I had fun doing that, y’know? So she called me back and we had a hilarious conversation about anything, everything, and nothing at all. I like talking with her.

Today, I drove John and William out of the room by saying that all I needed was to fall in love with a guy who had the same taste in girls that I did. That was interesting.

I’m working on a tape that I’m calling Identity Crisis. It’s my second conglomeration of REM songs, this one with a theme. This one, actually, is not going to have all REM songs on it; it will have at least one by Madonna, and perhaps some more by other artists. I’m definitely going to need some They Might Be Giants. The Identity Crisis theme is both Star Trek and a reference to this summer…all the songs will have some sort of bearing on it. I’m making the Identity Crisis tape for listening alternative to my normal tape, Finest Worktape. I like this tape. I like both of them.

I had an interesting experience with Shawn and our calculators today. We were standing in quite close quarters, so I was close enough to feel the heat of his body. That was turn-on enough, but to then have him linking our calculators…! That was wonderful. His calculator had the link hanging out of it, with one end uncoupled. I held my calculator still for him to place the link into. He plugged it in. I’m sure we were both aware of the extreme sexuality of the situation: there he was, putting a male end of a connector into a female coupling. This male end was his; the link was his, and it was already connected to his calculator. The calculator was mine, and he was putting his link into my calculator of his own free will—without my taking things over, merely my cooperation in allowing him to put it in. Coincidence? I think not. In fact…well, he will be mine! Or I will be his…or both, most enthusiastically.

I must think about exactly how serious I was in asking Kim to marry me. I think I was quite serious. We are counting to five now. I like the image. Now if we could find a sixth for Emily…oh, this song…Hmm. I’m thinking…I’m thinking about me and Shawn and Emily and Josh and Kim, the more the merrier, isn’t that right? I’m also thinking about the songs that I’m taping. I think that the REM guys are psychic, I’d swear to it.

Hannah came over, and Father Sir told the story about his voodoo doll. Hmm? Hannah and I exchanged looks. The teacher ended up going to the hospital with bleeding ulcers. Yes, I think that perhaps my talents come down to me through my father.

Kim is going to have to corner me about the principles of Wicca sometime. She said so, at least. I’m Joshian with quite strongly Wiccan tendencies, I think. Emily is some odd mix of Catholic and Joshian, which fit together quite well, for her, at least. Kim’s religious heritage is Unitarian (father) and Jewish (mother.) What an odd combination!

Josh, according to Joshian principles, is the Second Coming. We’re going to make him come more than twice, though. According to this, Emily would be a nun: the bride of the Savior…or—the wife of Josh! Hmm…that bears some thought.

What an odd combination of music this is! REM, Madonna, and They Might Be Giants! That’s going to be strange, you know? I love this. I love this place, I love Kim…Kim makes me happy, and Shawn…hey, maybe if Shawn and Kim met? I’d love that, if Shawn and Kim and Josh and Emily and I were a quintet. I’d like that, for sure.

This is going to be an interesting tape, no doubt. I love all of these songs, and they…well, it’s really fun making this, and it’s going to be even more fun listening to this after I get done with my work. I like working sometimes. I write essays for Hystery. That’s fun, always.

Kim and I were talking until way, way too late. She called me this time, and she’s so incredibly sweet! I like her lots.

I’m adding some Alanis Morrissette as well. It’s just a great combination, and most of these songs have memories attached to them, for some odd reason. Maybe because I got the CD’s at about the right time for them to have very loaded memories…these songs on Jagged Little Pill have the flavor of cooked-out london broil with Father Sir’s special sauce, eaten cold with equally chilled green olives. It’s a delicious thing to eat, especially with a great huge salad with plenty of salt and vinegar and onions and Greek olives…ah, that would be quite delicious indeed.

As you can see, I appreciate food. The scale tells me that as well. The scale tells me that I’d better take up some form of exercise. I believe that fencing is in order, as that will give me some of the things I’ve been lacking. It also seems like something I’d like…and, of course, that Shawn would appreciate in a woman.

I don’t want to change him, as much as that may not sound like me. I’d like it if he changes, but if he doesn’t, I’m not going to try to change him against his will. I’m not going to make that mistake ever again. If they don’t want to be changed, don’t try to. I’m not going to try again.

As much as I complain about him, I love him as-is. You see, he’s just so loveable! The thing is, I’d also like it if he liked me too, as much as I liked him. That would be very nice, and then…well, I’ve got this Heinlein-esque view of sex. You see, you let the SO do whatever he/she/they want(s) to do, and then you sit back, relax, join in, stand watch to make sure they’re not disturbed, cover their asses…whatever you want to do, except—don’t try and keep the one monogamous. Monogamy=monotony, to some ways of thinking.

I’m happy tonight. Things in the world seem peaceful. Shawn didn’t call—I guess he had more important things to do. I don’t mind, not at the moment. The house is warm, and I’m constructing a tape that will be useful tomorrow to listen to when I’m done with my finals, and then when there’s the time between the time when the finals are done, and the time when that fencing meeting takes place. I’m going to do everything I can to ensure that I go.

Watching the reel of tape to see that it doesn’t run out before the song is over…strange, but kind of fun…and the tape did run out. But it was so close to the end of the song it doesn’t matter. I timed the other side of the tape that way, too. I like having a good ending…I wish it had ended a little more gracefully. But I’m happy with Identity Crisis, I think.

July 18, 1996
Shawn called me!

Turtle found by ILM, his computer skills are better than lots they have already, he’s on contract to get through high school and college, scholarships, get hired.

Once, a long time ago, Shawn and a friend had something called “banana bombs.” There were a lot of bananas, there were packing tubes, they peeled the bananas, they put them in the tubes, they slung the tubes…there was banana everywhere.

One of Narcissa's friends says I would have to be desperate to marry Shawn. I laughed, because I fully intend to marry the Lady E.

Cookie dough ideas for Much Ado. Rose threatens to catapult some at Zach, for example… she accuses him of eating chocolate chips, he kisses her to take her mind off the accusation, she tells him she knows he at the chocolate chips because his mouth tasted of them…he tries to mess around with her while Regan isn’t watching…he and Regan snipe at each other…

If he can’t remember it to tell me, I can’t remember it for him.

If I don’t remember to ask about it before he forgets, I can’t remember it for him.

If he tells me so I will remember for him, but I forget…

If he tells me to remember and I tell someone who I am not supposed to tell, then I forget it, can I go to the one I told to ask what I told her?

I miss him. I don’t worry about him so much anymore.

I wish he wouldn’t ask me about what he forgot. He forgot what he wrote on T’Lera. I don’t totally remember what he wrote on T’Lera. I had wished that simply reminding him that he wrote something on T’Lera would be enough. But no. He thought of this himself. He seems to have a clear knowledge of what he’s missing. Dear Goddess…I will have to bear it. (I spelled it “bare,” for some reason unknown to any but myself.)

The Lady E has me wrapped around her dear finger.