skinny people fuck me up, man. i can’t act right when they’re around because i am too busy thinking everyone likes them better than me so i should just go hide by the mountain of gin&tonics until i turn to jell-o. skinny people get away with Muuuurder, like how cute kids don’t ever get punished for being the fucking assholes they are. urrg. ok so there is some girl and say she is beautiful and smart and skinny, how do you describe her to your friends? “oh, mindy, the skinny one right?” ’cause then everyone will know what you are talking about. yah yah, skinny, i know what you mean, i understand.

go to this tomorrow nite. ill be there with my troupe of go go dancing whores with moustaches and beers and coolhandluke’s group rap something bidniss.

i will revolutionize the porno world. until then, dazereader collects the goods.

To : “‘'”

Subject :

youre going to hate this mail.

well ya, its not all fluffy and sunny, but its not a bad thing either, ive

just got old man concerns. i like hanging out with you, spending time

together, especially when we’re out alone having a drink or whatever. its

nice to spend time with people you feel completely at ease with, i dont have

many of those. the concern is the velocity here. i move fast and you move

fast, we’re fast people, yo! it’s not a mistake, we do what we want, we do

whatever feels good, but i think we’ve got a little ahead of ourselves.

sure, i’ll admit it, the age difference is an issue. its one of those things

you cant really argue by citing details or accounts, its just the way it is.

this doesnt mean i dont want to hang out with you, on the contrary im

totally pro raymi. i just need to be crystal clear and upfront with you

about where i stand psychologically and emotionally. it may sound trite but

im amidst a precarious phase right now, and yes, it has plenty to do with my

age, what im doing with my life right now and where i hope my life is going

to go. i said it right from the start, i need to be cautious, i need things

to be casual. and its not like we’ve verbally surpassed that, but lets face

it, our actions have been speaking far louder than those cautionary words.

in short, i guess i need to take all of this a step back. we’ll talk more

about this i know, i just needed to break the ice.

Wednesday, November 14, 2001

a bus driver screamed at me in front of like fifty people today. i was suppose to buy my ticket in advance, but i didn’t, so the dude’s all, “You are suppose to BUY this in the station! LIKE EVERYONE ELSE! Are you an IDIOT!?” lucky for him i was hungover as shit and not quite awake otherwise i’da said more than, “Unnnngh, ummm, yah uhh, well i’ve never had to buy my ticket in advance before….” well, i’m not certain i would have mouthed off. i don’t take to confrontations very well. i think they take a year or two off my life.

See Raymi, the whole world knows how retarded you are…even bus drivers have joined us in our campaign to silence you and all of the bullshit that you generate.

Bugger Off Raymi and leave the world alone. We dont need another retarded website…especially not yours.

i was trying to find interesting emails to post but there are too many to go through and i seem to only be finding the you suck kinds. we got the dream loft for real now and i am going to piss down my legs with happiness.

i fucked laura with a strap-on. i was wearing velcro sneakers and tube socks and i had short hair.

this housewife-woman on some comment board said raymi was probably 12 and “socially dysfunctional” and then i came up with the best insult –

“goody fatwife, go clean out your closet you boring slag. you are a NOBODY and i am EXTREMELY FAMOUS and IMPORTANT so SHUT UP!”


i have to call anti and tell him all about it.

describe the youngest baby you’ve ever held and how it felt in your arms.

holding babies makes me feel super uptight and nervous – everyone is smiling ’cause you are holding this little life in your hands. im sitting there envisioning me dropping it on its head or letting it fall down the stairs, that would freak me right out. i always seem to be the cloest one standing near a baby when something bad happens so i avoid holding them as much as possible, the whole scene is really annoying. quite gay. you’re expected to say nice things about the kid and shit when all babies look and act exactly the same. i always say the wrong thing like, “oh, uhh, i heard that a kid’s blanket is extremely flammable, something to look out for, eh.” babies suck until they are old enough to say rude things and destroy shit.

my coke story

i was 16. i was sitting on the sofa in the livingroom of the “hangout” spot in town. i wasn’t suppose to be there but i went all the time in secret. i was sitting beside this short guy named ian or something – maybe chris. i forget. i was probably drunk. short guy starts in on his coke and would you like some he says. to him i say like im not talking enough as it is? what’s coke after all the e i’ve ever tried, it’s next to nothing. so i do some. then i do some more. then i can’t stop talking to the short guy about this that the other and then i go home.

when i was 8 i stole a miniature porno slide thing (like one of those viewmasters) from our family hairdresser’s guest bathroom. it was sitting on the toilet tank, on a doiley-covered tp roll, i dont remember what. it belonged to her husband, no doubt – the hairy, scarey italian sleazeball. her name was angie, the hairdresser and she wasa bitch. she was rough with my hair a lot, not being very delicate with my tangles when she brushed them out. anyway, the porno slide thing. it held 20 or so pictures of naked women on the beach or under waterfall or playing tennis and they were wearing golden bikinis or thongs or nothing at all. it was SO 80’s. blue plastic. and it fit in the palm of your hand. it was compact and cute and sexy and cheesy and made me feel turned-on a bit. i hid it in my closet, underneath a bunch of toys and stuff. it was my dirty secret and made me feel very guilty and nervous that one day it would be found and i’d be exposed as one of those lesbians, but i wasn’t. i eventually gave it to my brother. i said i had found it in the park and played dumb, asking what the hell it was suppose to be. he fell for it and showed it off to all his dumb friends and they all gave each other high fives and ran away. he got bored of it and so i acquired it once again for many many years until…

i gave it to eric for his birthday this summer. i wish i didnt ’cause now i realise it is valuable and someone might want to buy it off me for like five hundred dollars. hmmm. though i have vintage playboys, if you’s want them, email me. one from ’67 and one with farrah fawcett on the cover with the centrefold in-tact. maybe i should wait ’til she dies before i release THAT gem. anyway, im gonna put a bunch of shit together soon, take photos of all the crap i dont want anymore. my own personal ebay, yes yes.

subway haiku

i am all fucked up

and i am on the subway

we are now at keele

hometown haiku

this job is just hell

this town is so damn joyless

i hate everyone

i’m losing the ability to make sense of things

people cut through the parking lot of the hardware store all the time like it’s a fucking drive-thru i feel like putting down spike strips


my insides feel like garbage

the day is going but oh so slowly

I know I fucked it up and he is never ever ever going to write back. It�s already almost 24 hours later and he still hasn�t responded.

There is no hope for me.

I could be going to Honest Ed�s or to Ikea but I can�t even picture myself outside of this apartment at any time today.

Not even if the building was on fire.

It�s like I have been fasting everyday, all day until eleven pm eleven at nite and then I eat and stay up �til 7 or 9 am and then I sleep and do it again and again and THAT is why I weigh about 120lbs. I am 5�9 and should be weighing at least, AT LEAST 138lbs.


But I really like being skinny. I wish I was skinnier just so I could be a fucking supermodel and step on other people, like fat girls who hate me, fuck them!

I don�t care if I am not tall enough, Posh spice did some runway modelling and she is like an elf. When I am famous I am walking down a fucking runway and I am spitting on everyone who looks at me in a bad way.

my face is white because i am micheal jackson. no. i fall asleep wearing make-up all the time and i always forget that when i fall out of bed and walk directly to the tanning salon so my body is brown and my face is from interview with the vampire.

what do i want to tell you first today?

oh right, ok, so the adult website in-which i use to show my vagina for, those guys took it upon themselves to hack the eff out of my last paycheck, my hours, my shifts, saying i was late here and there..bla bla. it was all very amusing and hilarious, we stood around sharing a laugh or two and i was like, boy, this is a wonderful place of employment i am so glad i worked here and you guys really took care of me. and so i waved goodbye cheerfully and said lets have a coffee, some day.

just wait.

these are the things i would like to do today but i know i won’t:

comb my hair.

go to the tanning salon

watch the rest of minority report (i know i will do this)

go to honest ed’s

go to ikea

go to my apartment and pick up all packages, letters, junk mail and the stash of hundred dollar bills between my futon and its frame and then go straight to private eye’s in niagara falls.

go to the movies because it is tuesday cheap nite

i am bored of this list already.

i bought a new hat from the market, yesterday. it is interesting looking.

i wrote an electronic message to douglas coupland for real.

i will post what i wrote. hmm, maybe not. only if he responds.

i have to watch tv and think about boys now.

if that swollen members/nelly furtado breath song isn’t your newest most favourite song, i can’t ever be your friend. never.

we skipped out on the bill tonite, they screwed up our order, we were arguing over the three drunks who kept looking at me funny, we just walked out of there, ten minutes after three in the morning and i don’t think we’ll go back. im glad i was informed about the not-paying just after getting into the automible because my awareness of doing a bad thing would make me obvious and dumb and then i’d go to jail. their latkas weren’t so bad. along with the ice water. the nite before i almost punched this guy in the face. long history of deep-seeded contempt for 50 per cent of the people in that room. i don’t need to go back for another 6 months. a girl confronted me in the bathroom. she is dating an ex-flame of mine. i have never had someone say to my face that they were jealous of me, like really jealous. i wish i wasn’t so baked. i’d have enjoyed it more. what else. went to a loud dirty bar full of students hidden in a corner of north york city. if they ever want to intverview/write about me again it has to be downtown. if i wasn’t in a hurry to get to the place in-where i was to punch out that guy, i would have stayed way longer and consumed more barrel beer. i have some flyers to post for some events happening soon where you might see my tits or chin hairs, something. i have a crazy appointment tomorrow, 1 15pm but before that i have to go have my hair washed and styled so my friend can get his license so he can be a stylist person.

have a nice day.

click this but this first. take that anti.

ok i have been collecting “raymi jerk off delite” photos. ten of them for each package. each package is different. if you want a sneak preview you have to send me five dollars. upon doing that i will send you the slew of ten shots to your liking. i specialize in butt, nipple, crotch (not open vagina) and other miscellaneous tantalizing poses. keep ‘em for yerself, put em on the web, sell ‘em on ebay, i don’t care. email me or donate or conact me. i haven’t decided on prices yet. i just tried jerking off to myself, i had some in a zoom in/out picture viewer and by the time i got to the 6th shot i was spent. i have never jerked off to myself before. it was by accident. i’m so lazy i cant even go to the bed or the shower or the couch. i’ve been having masturbation frenzied sprees the last four days. i’m like, “TAKE THAT CLITORIS!” my ribs ache and my thighs, my whole body tightens up. it’s my only excercise.

found the illest of loft spaces. hello hello new life. haha. sorry coolhandluke. you will die when i show you pictures of it. i’m no longer suppose to show booby pictures, i’ll stop don’t worry. next project is “other people” or “people in raymi’s circle of trust.” yes.

“this place is better than cocaine.”

i don’t even want to tell you where it is. oh boy.

i can’t even sit still.

and i am baked all of a sudden and my chapstick ran out and my mind is reeling at all the new posibilities that this new space can be used for, im talking 24/7 raymi reality loft show and rent it out to movie makers and dinner parties and a claw bathtub!! excuse me while i jump out a window. high ceilings, breakfast nook that looks out onto a balcony patio, french doors, all open-concept, two bedroom, laundry, fuck fuck FUCK.

i love you world.

ew that is so gay.