Yes, I read about in on the lovely Boing Boing.
I will quote writer Josh Olson's words and add a link and a brief comment after:
We spend much of our lives alone. Some cope with it better than others. The ones who don’t are primed and ready for victimhood. You have to learn to be with yourself, because if you don’t, there’s a whole world of drugs, booze and rotten people who will be your friend until you’ve been sucked dry. Beware of what loneliness makes you do; and beware of this creature [the lady in the photo above], because she is out there, she is real, and Janna St. James is only one of her pustulant manifestations.This is the last paragraph from a fascinating story that appeared here in the L.A. Weekly.
Basically the story is about someone who was active in internet message boards for writers, and what happened to her. In short, why I don't chat or meet people over the internet. What really struck home for me was the paragraph above- the sentence in bold especially. We are born alone. I have always liked spending time alone. But. Abusive elements can really fuck things up. What a fascinating story. There's a lesson here for anybody's who's ever been had.
2 comments:
My friend Ricky Blarge once broke two dozen eggs over my head to cure me of giving quarters to the homeless.
I, unfortunatley, am now homeless, and walk the streets in a dress with a pantyhose hat. One must stay warm. I just want some quarters so I can buy some tin foil to hold my brain waves in.
I, like Josh Springsteen, am fed up
with all this suffering. It is obvious to me that the homeless need to be destroyed. Take my uncle
Marty for instance, each contact with him leaves me feeling soiled.
His pathetic groveling for sympathy
leaves me hostile and semi-naked.
Bart Tolstoy
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