"this town is wrecked"

march 11th "YOU CAN SEE THE FLATIRONS IN THE BACKGROUND. THEYRE NOTHING MORE THAN BILLBOARDS OF OMINOUSNESS NOW. THIS TOWN IS WRECKED" Jacquee Arnold, les librarian, was telling me earlier this week about how she was talking to one of the BLDG inmates about "Perfect Murder, Perfect Town". The inmate told her that he was expecting the book in the mail any day now. When (and if) he gets it, that one damned detial about me will spread like wildfire. Oh, forgodsakes, I hope someone brings me a CLASS A GHOSTSUIT to wear when I get out. A long white sheet made tight round the neck with some countrified dirty rope. Thick greasy black whore lipstick to emphasize the eye and mouth holes...and a nice bit of a mohawk shock of hair (orange?) on top. I can flop this on real quick and wave bye bye to the deputies. Maybe a god final touch would be to stick 2 pencils up my nostrils and BASH my head against a sink (like someone DID). Ride away, a bloody mess, on an eeeky squeaky bicycle. (Arrainged in MuniCourt the next day on charges of being...what else...a disturbing bloody mess. Les eeeky squeaky bicycle lost in the evidence room). Anyone mind it TELLING that a certain monsieur APPERSON (his two front teeth are missing so he's also known as "Catfish" and "ruthless toothless") who has been in the jail the SECOND LONGEST (behind me)  and was scheduled to get out in a few weeks recently went back to "the hole" for his billionth time, thereby pushing back his outdate? This time he jokingly came up behind Deputy Montez like he was gonna stab him with eine pencil. Must buy a house in which to hide. Or...get a LIFE SENTENCE next time, hons. My breath is DECAYED of late. No amount of brushing brings a change. I think I may have ishy squishy gum problems...a product of les beating in les Douglas County Jail. My existence is not valid due to my lack of interest in autoownership. See how YOU are? Unable to see the NEWS as of late...the pod has taken a decided turn for the childish, so sitcom reruns WIN. TV. How I did plop in front of it in Vancouver.Why, it was Christmastime, and I learned that hockey  sticks are pretty damn CHEAP.There was so OFTEN a commercial for the B.C. LOTTERY" with 2 younguns making echoes into a blowing fan. Then one suggests, "let's oscillate" and the other, misunderstanding, skips a beat and whispers, "you mean together". I just obtained a soundbyte from Lisa (webmastrix) emphasizing more about some new threatening damage some moron on the net has attempted to do either her, Lance, or me. (It's HARD to understand soundbytes).And so which screech owl (chat huate) has flown into a rage now?  Let me put my cup of tea down, dab my lips with a napkin, and say this about that... Amongst the least of my worries, (le cadet de mes soucis) is the blurry drivel put forth by a nameless eel. It must be AWFUL to live as YOU do. I can't help but notice that you righteously indignant freaks did NOTHING when I explained all les puzzle pieces one interactively needs to save society from ANOTHER corpse abuser...Jim Colvin. Where's your EMAILS and FAXES or any semblance of interaction there? And in that case there's even Douglas County Deputy O Dell as a witness. She KNOWS Colvin took Lorpsey photos. But the reason you strike at US is because you are the types who MUST make "La La La" noises when someone else speaks. You are scums. It's you kind of people who had the nerve to ensure I had nowhere to go but HERE...and now you bitch because I go ONWARDS. There was a recipe in the Rocky Mtn. News awhile back for a "Brownie Puddle". Boy would I like to make one for you. Oh, sure. I understand the sentiment. The rage. The angst. But why take it out on us? I do reserve for myself the RIGHT to punish Lance and Lisa for certain of their ways. I think I shall someday visit them and then feign a headache. When I get a moment ALONE in their apartment I shall cut the electrical cords off of every device they own and arrange them in a vase. For I am a wretch and they SHOULD have known better. Stinking meat dipped in eggs shall be deposited in the couch cushions. And when they come home I shall be flown, only a note, a blessed mysterious note, shall remain. Perhaps I'll violate their milk carton with this note in a baggie). And it shall read, "I am DEEPLY,DEEPLY uncomfortable, so I took it out on you. That is the way of the world". I did mention that a single pea was found in John Flach's lung during his autopsy, didn't I? So much to this life is PATHETIC. I live with virtually no positive feelings. It's amazing I know the words to ANY songs at all. There was aa ad in the last issue of The Boulder Weekly for a "murder mystery" evening at the Chataqua Dining Hall. This is a tavern on the green type place in the park VERY near the Ramsey house. No doubt the child who has, in death, drawn so many FREAKS to her, played in this very park. It IS that  close. This ad begins, "please join us for an evening of murder, mayhem, and mystery. The evening will begin with champagne and hors de oeuvres." It's $75.00 per person. At the bottom one is warned, "you will be asked to participate in the investigation of the murder". (Perhaps Alex Hunter should attend, the foot dragger!). And to cap it all off, it says, "you may be a suspect!" There's a photo of the dining hall. I used the basement bathroom there on fire night. You can see the Flatirons in the background. They're nothing more than billboards of ominousness now. This town is wrecked. J.T.Colfax [email protected]   current | 1999 | 1998 | colfax diaries