ok so if you live in toronto and/or wanting to have a cheap place to rest your head and you are a nice little girl then you can have my room with all of my shit in it, mostly, well a bed at least and desk and you can wear my clothes, i don’t care. anyhow for the month of feb i still have my room but ill be at my new loft, so i want to sublet the bitch and ill let you have it for like 350 dollars. email me: rawkrawk@hotmail.com and i’ll tell you all the details. backyard, newly renovated tubthing in downstairs, laundry room, parking space, central located bla bla blaaaahhh and coolhandluke is in the room next door (oh what a babe) he prefers chicks to be moving in but whatever, i want money for that month otherwise it all goes down the sewer. the room is clean and stuff, i havent been in it in over a month. im a gypsy. i have another roommate too downstairs and my ex teacher who taught me in england lives upstairs so you can get some good stories on me from him. oh and if you wanna stay in the room after feb 1 and coolhandluke likes you then it is yours, be on the lease or not. though your rent will be 460 inclusive. sucka. and even if you want the room for like half of the month, i dont care, its going to waste anyway so get someone innit!!! ask everyone you know. no crazy people please.

take it from my sister

leave a ‘shout out’ by every post i make or ill slit my wrists.

I am in love with something all over again.


You are beautiful. You are beautiful because you don�t say anything. You won�t.

They love you blythe.

It makes me shake my head.

I think I am the only one who knows about you but I am wrong.

To see your clothing and your eyes and your face and your ginormous forehead.

Blythe I want to run away with you to paris.

Blythe I want to be your monster.


Sometimes you wear rollerskates.

Blythe i’m 19 years old and soon I will be twenty and I don�t think people will like me anymore and I wont be able to make any excuses.

i’ll be older than dust.

You are ageless, blythe.

I want to wear clothes like you but sometimes I see what you are wearing and I think that you are boring and I would look much better.

I want to be a writer, blythe. I want douglas coupland to write back to me and I want to meet the relatives of mine who were closest to jack kerouac and I want to talk to my papa about jack kerouac and everything he knows before he dies.

I would feel so guilty if he died and I never spoke to him.

Not just because of jack kerouac, though.

Blythe, are you from Japan?

I saw adaptation tonite. I was thinking about you at some points. Well, more so the book I had bought with you in it.

Are you lonely, blythe? Is there a male-blythe? I think there should be.

It must be awful lonely being a doll.

You don�t even speak.

Though you get touched and held, a lot. Unless you are one of those blythe�s that are on a stand or in a box, part of a collection of blythes all spookily standing there on a shelf � looking at me.

Some pictures I have seen of you are awful spooky.

I bet they have sex dreams about you.

I wanted to get married on a beach in Jamaica and hold a pineapple for my bouquet and then eat that pineapple later for breakfast and I would wear a white string bikini. and be all tanned. and then I�d stay for two weeks. and that would be my honeymoon. and it wouldn�t be at all stressful. but then I found out Pamela Anderson and Tommy lee did that so it had less appeal to me.

So I�ll have to do something else.

The pineapple/bouquet-thing was a good concept, though.

I don�t think Pamela Anderson is that romantic or even smart enough to think of it.

I read about that in Cosmopolitan magazine.

I was twelve years old.

I have to go now, blythe.

Talk to you tomorrow.


i want you so bad.

me and jamie had a email conversation. here it is. oh and let me also tell you that jamie left a fucking printout of my manuscript bookthing on the fucking airplane with my fucking name written all fucking over it.

r le minx wrote:

stop writing from your dead account it gets sent back to me u dumbass

it makes me not love you

at all!


that is suppose to sound funny, not hurtful

Jamie wrote:

that made me cry

my life is too complicated for me to keep track of it properly

plus I’m dumb.

r le minx wrote:

i like dumb guys

Jamie wrote:

I like you

r le minx wrote:

please tell me you didn’t cry

Jamie wrote:

no I didn’t cry.

My heart just sank a little

r le minx wrote:

well stop being dumb then

u have no right to feel bad

Jamie wrote:

i’m teasing you.

it only sank until you said you were kidding…then it floated again.

It’s been floating ever since.

r le minx wrote:

ok i dont know what u are talking about now

Jamie wrote:

people rarely know what I’m talking about.

This girl recently told me, “You don’t have any contact with reality, do you?”

I said, “Why would I want THAT?”

r le minx wrote:

please tell me your next job is going to be a stand up comedian and your delivery will be just like yer emails

cuz i will sit up front with a pitcher of beer myself and slap my knee and spit over my beer belly and guffaw at every word that comes out of your fucking mouth

i am SERIOUS!!!!!!!!!

can i be yer comedian coach??

Jamie wrote:


please coach me comedy!

but I have stage freight.

I need a persona.

or a clown suit.

or a paper bag.

r le minx wrote:

how about u just hold a glass of water in yer hand and let it shake in yer hand and spill everywhere

during yer whole routine or read your emails from a notepad?

dont be nervous

u have no idea how fucking funny u are

it makes me CRAZY thinking about it!!!!!

Jamie wrote:

I’m glad that you think i’m so funny.

But I don’t know why…really.

When I read the emails I send you, I try to see what’s so funny…and well…all I can come up with is a crooked little smile. But the smile isn’t from what I wrote, it’s from thinking about you laughing. That makes me happy.

You have no idea.

When am I going to see you again?

I’ll tell you jokes and we’ll work on my routine.

r le minx wrote:

we’ll see each other soon

we are the rat pack.

the empire

you, me, anti, laura, jg

trust me i know

i hear rumors

i am obviously the leader

your nervousness will either destroy yer routine or make it better

that is why i think u should make a book

Jamie wrote:

yes…a book is better.

but I still need a coach…

A naked one.

(A whole bunch of nonsense gets edited out here…about how Raymi owes me money, and how she gonna pay me back, etc etc…yeah Raymi, pull the other one)

r le minx wrote:

please post our email conversations and feel free to contrive my responses and curt remarks

Jamie wrote:

I don’t need to contrive your responses…believe me.

oh i guess you want me to add something new.

i feel pretty deflated. ive been arguing with my mum and the spaniard and every other email i get is telling me off. i am neglecting some important people in my life and i’ve decided im no longer responding to piss-ant emails. so dont send me any opinions of yours if they make no sense to me.

im going to the mall with coolhandluke. i’ll write later. bye.

oh and like i have this huge following in iceland for some reason, maybe i look like someone they know or they can read english or understand some secret jokes that i dont even get, anyway, if you speak whatever the fuck language they do can u please tell me what the hell they are saying? i think they are either making super fun of me or talking about how magnificent i am. like this dude what the fuck is he SAYING and if he likes me so much why cant he write it in english so i can get full satisfaction from it?!?! i hope he is just as confused as i am. a&^$*^%$% ??????>>>>>>> UH

i like xylophones

i am extremely protective of my friends. you fuck them, you fuck with me. i would take the word of a coke pill junky over yours, any day. you are horrible. you are mean. you are ignorant. you are leading the wrong life and your words are nothing but crap. but crap! words i’ve seen in books before, heard some smart guy once say, someone trying to sound smart before. how come you only feel good when you make someone feel not good. do you know that your friends badmouth you?

hiding behind style only gets you so far. your parents had more opportunities. spending lots of money on imported beers and compact discs is tolerable. you should respect and fully acknowledge all tariffs and postal fees. you think you’re being smart but you’re really being mean. you hate me because you hate yourself and the conservative house you live in isn’t big enough to hold your insecurities.

these pictures will make you angry if you live in toronto because you know the blond girl and you think all she does is drink and fuck and wear fishnets. you were born into wealth and easy living and you don’t know what suffering is. this girl deserves every last penny i have. she deserves your respect and all of your attention. she is diamonds and gold and she is rubies. and she is even smarter than you. you think you have everyone all figured-out.

other people enjoying themselves fucks you up. you can’t handle not being able to dance and to jump. girls who like to look pretty and shake their hair and kiss each other and also boys in public make you hide in corners, you boo them or call them trash. ever think they’re doing it for one another? notice how they aren’t ever looking at you or any of your super cool friends? do you know why? they are not doing it for looks or for nods of enthusiasm. they don’t even know where they are, it’s not important. it makes them happy and forget their loneliness and your unjustified contempt.

do you think university is your gaurantee of a better life? the right life? good wife? one day you’ll break your legs or get your teeth pulled and then you’ll have a prescription for percocet and 4 months after your wounds have healed and the pain by medical standards should dissipate you will find yourself with a prescription for percocet and then you will know what scraping bottom feels like because the fuss over these tiny pills, will be evident.

you have to learn how to not be ashamed or phased by things. you have to learn how to listen to what people are really saying to you. some make you want to scratch your eyes out but really they just want you to hold them. you have to learn how to be alone and then you have to tell me how to do it because really i have no idea.

you have to tell your girlfriend she is pretty all the time and not ever forget that she is because you can destroy someone with silent treatment.

sometimes you have to explain to your parents that what you do is for your own good and survival.

one day you will realise that thinking yourself into a sad, sad place, will not help you get out of there. you have to learn how to love and be loved in return.

yes, this is all about you.

all 1000 that come here every day all month long so if you hate me why do you keep coming back?

this is my favorite picture at the moment so i am using it again! i think i look like the most beautiful person in the world. it’s that special time of month, you know? we get an 8ball and fly out the windows and take off our clothes and touch each other real good. nothing else gets done until that fucking thing is finished. we decided we are going to eat chinese food for fuck sakes. can you mix coke with chinese food? i hope so because i haven’t eaten in a long time. the el mo was hard last nite, we showed up late, missed the act we were suppose to dance with, extremely sketched-out and frightened of every loud noise, left to go to 56 k – i stuck my head in the door and then i ran up the stairs and down the street. everything is hard, very hard.

we are going to blow up, tonite. that is all. oh and it’s my first time so something bad will probably happen.

8 23pm

i fucking fucking fucking hate these machines im walking back and forth trying to upload shit and fiddle with this and that and answering emails and phone calls and trying on wigs and underwears and trying to find a filter for a j and NOTHING IS WORKING.

this might have something to do with it, maybe.

you don’t like beethoven.

barry is going on 60 minutes in a few days to talk about babies made from sperm before the year 1965 and i told him to shout out raymitheminx.com as i know any of you would because you are so nice to me.

i decided i will go go dance afterall, but i am not going to wear a big dumb outfit in case no one shows up and i’m not filming it but i will take photos, i promise. it’s friday nite, why am i still talking to you? i have to go shower all the aids off of my body. i hope you have a good nite and i will see you tomorrow.


ok now i am awake and i am thinking about not go-go dancing my face off. if i do i’ll wear jeans and some stupid shirt. ok i changed my mind again, i am go go dancing. maybe. i want to wear a wig just like that little blond one but craig is a selfish asshole so i might go get one just like it. though i probably won’t because it is dark out now and i might get followed. the government sent me a cheque for 87 dollars and twenty-one cents, god bless them. i burnt my tongue on a hot sausage filled with cheese. it is going to ruin my day. i just know it.

good morning world

today i predict subzero temperatures

heart palpitations


the sweats

bloody noses

gritty teeth

coke hangover city

but after that is all said and done, after you watch me dance around a bit at the el mo’ you might want to grab the blackest people you know and head over to 56 Kensington for a little wall-mirror disco shit. i’ll be there a two-steppin’ knee deep with the blacks. it’s 3 dollars.

jeff jarvis gave me a big sex present today.