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November 11, 2005

last nite natalie spent a million dollars off her credit card trying to beat all of my megatouch high scores. HA! she’s all BLA HAA WHEE I’S TRYING TO BEAT YOUR SCORZE RAYMI!

and she didn’t.

then she left and so did fil and i decided to be a barfly and play by myself and then this fat nice guy is all HEY THUR YOU PLAYIN’ MY GAMES I NEED TO FIND A GAL LIKE YOU

me: Bleep Boop bleep beep

him: ME AND MUH EX WE USES TO BET EACH OTHER, WE MADE BETS ‘n stuff

me: beep bleep

him: LIKE IF I WIN THEN YOU HAVE TO RUN AROUND NEKKID!

me: bleep boop boOOOOOOp

him: BUT WE DON’T GO TOgetheR no more

me: dude can you shut up?

him: WOw you’re tough. i like YOU.

me: you can buy me a gin but i have to leave and meet my boyfriend

him: YOU GOT A BOYFRIEND? WELL YOU LET ME know when you dump him, ok?

me: look at me? do i look like i am single? you have a loonie?

bartender shows up

me: hey this guy is going to buy me a gin and tonic

bartender: this guy’s name is *******

me: i know. that’s my brother’s name.

him: P(*^fdhewf32n bwjf,3m42tr segf;oi

me: k gotta go bye



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November 10, 2005

ok i will write something now.

being a cat lover i have come to the conclusion that they are rude fucking assholes, tho i love ‘em still. the cat spends all day following you around and demanding to sit on your lap your chest your face for you to feed it and then let it sit on you some more and this carries on throughout the day and then finally it’s time for bed and the cat decides your hand is not clean enough to rest his fucking head on so he spends ten minutes licking it. how fucking rude. fuck you cat, YOU’RE the dirty one. MY EYES ARE FUCKING BLOODSHOT BECAUSE OF YOU AND I HAVE YOUR HAIR ALL OVER MY CLOTHES YOU SELFISH TIT!

anyway. yesterday was a stressful day for me, having nothing to do with the comments thing, this blog isn’t the centre of my universe you know. ok yes it is. i totally blew it at band practise, every song was just terrible. though we normally practise on tuesdays so maybe that had something to do with it, and my dad was using a new whateverthefuck FX pedal and randy had a new bass drum. my mind kept wandering. cool story.



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Ms Lauren

Following your advice: “i can be reached by email.” I am doing so.

I gathered the patience to read your dumb excerpt. Unbelievably shallow, selfrighteuos, vain, simplistic and whinny. You not only want to imitate Joyce (poorly), but you also want to be like that looser Keruac. The drivers licence angst is just so stupid. I think I will email the excerpt to some friends.

i don’t know who the fuck joyce is



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you can have multiple votes.

who is cooler?
Bill Murray
Paris Hilton
Jamie
Philogynist
Raymi
scarlett johansen
Margaret Thatcher
Weird Al
Jen Good
Tony Pierce
Ghostface Killa
Bunny Mcintosh
Hugh Jackman
Matthew Good
Swamp Thing
Samuel L. Jackson
Peter Griffin
Beck
Liza minelli
Dr. Zoidberg


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Dear Raymi-Lauren,

Here is a long email which I seem to write you annually, or when you shut down you comments or whatever:

It’s a shame about the comments because I think they are entertaining sometimes and occasionally there are interesting insights in there. More than anything I think people use the comments because they like interacting with you and watching you interact with other people in your own singular way. Even with the assholes. It’s a big part of your blog.

But I think I understand a little more this time, compared to the last time you shut down your comments why you did it though. Back then I was like, “Whatever, you can’t let those retards get to you.” I just wrote “reatards” and then as I was fixing it I thought, “readtard” is actually a good word. I’m going to say it from now on.

But I digress. For some reason this time I can see more clearly how you must feel when you lay yourself out there only to have smart asses having a go at you. It’s probably easier to handle when you’re just joking around but when you’re really opening up, that must sting. I don’t know how you do it.

I just got my first nasty comment on my stupid blog today. When I read it I was like, “I would love to kick this anonymous cunt right in the face.”

…It wasn’t you, was it? Kidding…. But was it? Anyway, I can’t say I was completely unaffected by the cunt and that’s because I was talking about some personal insights in that post. I wasn’t joking around. And that was me and my own little timid writings! I don’t even lay it all out there the way you do.

You should know that all those readtards that leave those cynical, know-it-all comments are just as fastened with you and what you have to say as everyone else is and everyone knows it. Most of them are probably miserable and hate themselves. If we’re lucky they’ll blow their own brains out. But they always piss off back to their porn sooner or later anyway.

Fuck the readtards. Fuck them. Your book looks like it is going to be really good. I’ll read it. Stay brave and don’t stop writing and taking photos and making art and videos and being honest and following your whims (I know you never said you would, I’m just saying). Why the hell shouldn’t you if you aren’t doing anyone any harm? It’s because you do it for you that people are so interested and feel compelled to comment.

Actually I’m starting to think like I did before. You’re not actually going to let these dinks get to you are you? Let them comment. You don’t have anything to be ashamed of. It’s not like they are going to make everyone go, “hmm, that fucknut has a good point. Life is an audition and I suddenly don’t like Rami’s blog.” Just publish a book of their inane comments and pay for a car with it.. or at least a bottle of whisky to put between your legs.

I’m done saying “readtards” now. It’s not that great a word.

x Arran



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Lauren,

I think it’s punk rock to not have comments. I really like your excerpt and yes I’m a sale. Some of the trouble with comments is that everyone wants to relate it to themselves, though it’s not them.

For example, I just noticed that Jack Kerouac never seemed to drive, you made it noticed. I lost my driver’s license about 3 years ago for getting drunk and driving into a street, and I literally can’t call to start getting it back, I freeze.

And revise it so that I would have wound up getting killed by a semi say yesterday in say Minnesota but really you just notice more without it, there’s a road inside the highway. And I think by now if I were behind the wheel with a license I’d be wondering what it would be like to be able to say I didn’t have a driver’s license. What I mean is I think you should drive, it’s fun.

I’d like to be able to recite by memory a funeral elegy about age, age 22 specifically, really a beautiful speech on quality quantity, the periodical irrelevance of a number, but I can’t do it, I’m 21.

About depression I might be getting fragmented understanding from the outside c/o antidepressants but I also knocked on wood.

Emailing you any more runs the risk of ingratiating myself needlessly, I just wanted to say “cool”.

Sincerely, Ryan

p.s.- I didn’t intend to advocate drunk driving, I’ve prevented more of it than I’ve caused.
p.s.s. – What a previously awkward way to end an email.



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the worst part is when people start thinking they have some sort of ownership of your
blog just because they have been reading for a while.

“i liked it when you used to…..”

yeah well fuck off — i don’t anymore.

anyway. good for you with the book. that’s an accomplishment.

yours truly,
nancy reagan



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