Tuesday, October 30, 2007
ooooooo Josh Olson!
Josh will be interviewed tomorrow online, at 6:30 EST. You can go here to ask him a question. Don't be an asshole, though.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
happy trails
I'm busy right now with things that have absolutely nothing to do with Janna Saint James, so this blog'll go un-updated for a while.
All comments will still be moderated and responded to, as and when I have time. Thanks to all for offering their opinions and suggestions. Even the asshats.
Many people are like Janna St. James, even if it's not the gargoyle herself (but it very well could be). Anyone can be an "Audrey." The biggest mistake you can make is thinking you're too smart not to be. Be careful out there.
All comments will still be moderated and responded to, as and when I have time. Thanks to all for offering their opinions and suggestions. Even the asshats.
Many people are like Janna St. James, even if it's not the gargoyle herself (but it very well could be). Anyone can be an "Audrey." The biggest mistake you can make is thinking you're too smart not to be. Be careful out there.
Monday, October 22, 2007
verrrry interesting
So someone threw a photo my way today, a Pagosa Springs longtime resident. They stumbled across my blog, I guess because I mentioned their city in it, and they thought Janna looked familiar. They sent me this snapshot and asked if the woman in it was the same woman. Well, not only is the woman on the right Janna, but...
...that office, I'm pretty doggone sure, is the same office that "Jenn" "Alice" and "Bean's" wife "Connie" are in with "Jesse's" llama. Y'know, the office that "Jesse" said was the AP office in Aspen. Y'know, the one that Janna said AP asked her to open? The one AP says doesn't exist, never existed? This office is apparently of a little Pagosa Springs magazine called Connection. I'll have to look them up and see if they remember the llama.
Let's do a little comparison, shall we?
The photo I got today:
The photo "Jesse" sent me:
The angle of the roof, that drafting table. Ayup, same place.
And hey, that blonde gal looks mighty familiar. Something about the hair.
Today's photo:
The photo "Jesse" sent me.
I'd say that the woman on the left is "Jesse's" young would-be girlfriend, "No. 3" or "Lesley" in "Jesse's" blog. Lookit that hair, and the heart-shaped face. I could be wrong, but I don't think I am. I wonder what her real name is.
And hey, Janna, what's with the toupee?
(Edited to add: and of course, she's at a computer. Wonder who she's conning on it?)
...that office, I'm pretty doggone sure, is the same office that "Jenn" "Alice" and "Bean's" wife "Connie" are in with "Jesse's" llama. Y'know, the office that "Jesse" said was the AP office in Aspen. Y'know, the one that Janna said AP asked her to open? The one AP says doesn't exist, never existed? This office is apparently of a little Pagosa Springs magazine called Connection. I'll have to look them up and see if they remember the llama.
Let's do a little comparison, shall we?
The photo I got today:
The photo "Jesse" sent me:
The angle of the roof, that drafting table. Ayup, same place.
And hey, that blonde gal looks mighty familiar. Something about the hair.
Today's photo:
The photo "Jesse" sent me.
I'd say that the woman on the left is "Jesse's" young would-be girlfriend, "No. 3" or "Lesley" in "Jesse's" blog. Lookit that hair, and the heart-shaped face. I could be wrong, but I don't think I am. I wonder what her real name is.
And hey, Janna, what's with the toupee?
(Edited to add: and of course, she's at a computer. Wonder who she's conning on it?)
in a nutshell
Looking back over all of this, there's a lot to process, even for me, and I lived through it. So I'm streamlining. No point in keeping up entries where I rail about what a mean, manipulative person Janna is, or talk about how I feel about what she did to me, at least not every single one. It's self-evident. Anyone in their right mind can see it. Enough of you have read this blog, and my links to hers in her various incarnations.
So, I'm keeping the posts that have actual evidence, and I'm gonna summarize a bunch of the facts here. Keep it as concise as possible.
FACT #1
There is no "Jesse Jubilee James," or any of his "friends" and "family." We're still digging up facts, so you never know what'll turn up next.
FACT #2
I know Janna's jumbled Brit-stralian accent is 100% utter bullshit, as are her stories explaining how she came to speak that way. As are most of her stories.
FACT #3
Janna's family is well aware of her hijinks, and chooses to do nothing about it. It leaves me with little sympathy for them, for allowing Janna's sociopathic behavior to be unleashed on the unsuspecting.
FACT #4
I choose to not disclose my name here, because I am not the one who misrepresented myself in this whole hideous charade, and there are other people who are close to me who really do not need the exposure. Plus, I'm a little gunshy about disclosing anything too personal about myself in a public forum, unnerstand why? Janna Saint James insinuated herself into my life, my head, and my home. I'm still washing her off.
FACT #5
Janna actually has admitted, over and over, that she has lied to me. The dispute is the level of her deception. But whether Janna covered for someone else who allegedly exists, or whether she's just made the whole entire damn thing up, the fact still remains that she accepted gifts and money from me under false pretenses.
FACT #6
If everyone that Janna is "protecting" was so afraid of me that nobody could bear to divulge a single true fact about themselves to me over a year and half, how is it that Janna St. James still felt so secure that she would take a vacation with me, or travel halfway across the country to position herself in my home? And why would she? And what gave her the right, as someone who had lied to me for twenty months?
FACT #7
I have offered, twice, to put this entire debacle to rest by having an impartial third party whose expenses I would pay in full, depose Janna and "Jesse's" people, and offer up an affidavit stating that there is enough evidence to prove that "Jesse" once existed (without disclosing any identities), and that Janna's stories about herself and others are not lies. She chose to ignore that offer, and has maintained over the past seven months that I am attacking her groundlessly, even though it would take far less time for her to set the issue straight in a legal manner.
FACT #8
Janna's first husband John didn't die at his own hand, or of cancer, back in 1989 and leave her with a tiny Jessica to raise. The photos of "Jesse" are all of John, and I don't blame him for leaving her, not one bit. But he didn't have to die to do it.
FACT #9
Janna St James is NOT a nice woman. At least I acknowledge my vindictiveness. Hers makes mine pale by comparison, though, you betcha. She also isn't missing any lungs, nor has she had reconstructive surgery for the rape/beating she never received
FACT #10
Janna was never best friends with Annie Martel, John Denver's ex-wife, nor was Annie "Jesse's" therapist. Janna perpetuated fraud for years with people on a Dan Fogelberg message board, as well as in Pagosa Springs, Colorado, where she lived for a time, and she spent enough time around Dan Fogelberg's ranch (and llamas) to take photos and use them a decade or so down the line as pictures of "Jesse's" home.
FACT #11
People lie. They do it all the time. I don't know anyone who doesn't lie. It's the scope and breadth of Janna St. James Priggie's lies that make her so, um, special.
So, I'm keeping the posts that have actual evidence, and I'm gonna summarize a bunch of the facts here. Keep it as concise as possible.
FACT #1
There is no "Jesse Jubilee James," or any of his "friends" and "family." We're still digging up facts, so you never know what'll turn up next.
FACT #2
I know Janna's jumbled Brit-stralian accent is 100% utter bullshit, as are her stories explaining how she came to speak that way. As are most of her stories.
FACT #3
Janna's family is well aware of her hijinks, and chooses to do nothing about it. It leaves me with little sympathy for them, for allowing Janna's sociopathic behavior to be unleashed on the unsuspecting.
FACT #4
I choose to not disclose my name here, because I am not the one who misrepresented myself in this whole hideous charade, and there are other people who are close to me who really do not need the exposure. Plus, I'm a little gunshy about disclosing anything too personal about myself in a public forum, unnerstand why? Janna Saint James insinuated herself into my life, my head, and my home. I'm still washing her off.
FACT #5
Janna actually has admitted, over and over, that she has lied to me. The dispute is the level of her deception. But whether Janna covered for someone else who allegedly exists, or whether she's just made the whole entire damn thing up, the fact still remains that she accepted gifts and money from me under false pretenses.
FACT #6
If everyone that Janna is "protecting" was so afraid of me that nobody could bear to divulge a single true fact about themselves to me over a year and half, how is it that Janna St. James still felt so secure that she would take a vacation with me, or travel halfway across the country to position herself in my home? And why would she? And what gave her the right, as someone who had lied to me for twenty months?
FACT #7
I have offered, twice, to put this entire debacle to rest by having an impartial third party whose expenses I would pay in full, depose Janna and "Jesse's" people, and offer up an affidavit stating that there is enough evidence to prove that "Jesse" once existed (without disclosing any identities), and that Janna's stories about herself and others are not lies. She chose to ignore that offer, and has maintained over the past seven months that I am attacking her groundlessly, even though it would take far less time for her to set the issue straight in a legal manner.
FACT #8
Janna's first husband John didn't die at his own hand, or of cancer, back in 1989 and leave her with a tiny Jessica to raise. The photos of "Jesse" are all of John, and I don't blame him for leaving her, not one bit. But he didn't have to die to do it.
FACT #9
Janna St James is NOT a nice woman. At least I acknowledge my vindictiveness. Hers makes mine pale by comparison, though, you betcha. She also isn't missing any lungs, nor has she had reconstructive surgery for the rape/beating she never received
FACT #10
Janna was never best friends with Annie Martel, John Denver's ex-wife, nor was Annie "Jesse's" therapist. Janna perpetuated fraud for years with people on a Dan Fogelberg message board, as well as in Pagosa Springs, Colorado, where she lived for a time, and she spent enough time around Dan Fogelberg's ranch (and llamas) to take photos and use them a decade or so down the line as pictures of "Jesse's" home.
FACT #11
People lie. They do it all the time. I don't know anyone who doesn't lie. It's the scope and breadth of Janna St. James Priggie's lies that make her so, um, special.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
answers to questions
dcmus1c - I created a new account, and couldn't think of a good alias, so frivolously, that was what I chose. It was a silly move on my part, and in fact would even make me queasy when I looked at it, so I've changed it. Sorry to freak you out. Also, some food for thought - just because it's different doesn't mean that it still wasn't Janna, you know?
krs - no.
Patricia - YES!!!!!!
krs - no.
Patricia - YES!!!!!!
chill pill
Hey hey hey, friends and sympathizers. I don't want to hear another word about calling or emailing Janna to give her shit. I won't post those comments or respond to those emails. Doing these things will accomplish nothing. I regretted posting her information almost directly after doing it, which, if you'll note, is why I deleted it. Plus, the last thing I need is to have a reason to feel sorry for her, and if anything's gonna do it, that will. Awright?
Feel free to post links to this blog on your blogs, or to opine in your own public or private forum, but can the rest. Believe me, a well-phrased opinion and her name in yet one more place in internets-land will do more to nip her activities in the bud than mail or phone calls will.
So, to recap, thanks, but no thanks.
Feel free to post links to this blog on your blogs, or to opine in your own public or private forum, but can the rest. Believe me, a well-phrased opinion and her name in yet one more place in internets-land will do more to nip her activities in the bud than mail or phone calls will.
So, to recap, thanks, but no thanks.
awwww, A
I just tried e-ing you, and it bounced back. Click VIEW MY COMPLETE PROFILE on the upper right, below the banner, and when you get to the profile, click Email on the left (under Contact) and a window should pop up with my email addy pre-filled out.
Saturday, October 20, 2007
hey, A part deux
Drop me an E c/o my profile email contact. I'd like to talk to you off-board. All your emails will be kept confidential. But you can sleep easy tonight, and every other night, either way.
Oh, and dcmus1c, I'd have to say no. Highly, highly unlikely. Sorry.
Oh, and dcmus1c, I'd have to say no. Highly, highly unlikely. Sorry.
is there a graphologist in the house?
I've scanned a few notes I got from Janna and her various Jannafestations. Any input would be appreciated, either through comments or via the email address I set up for this purpose, on my profile page. I reserve the right to publish on this blog any emails I receive at this address, so anonymous threateners, watch your ass.
First we have a letter from "Jesse," as a handwriting sample, but also another example of just how far Janna will go. This was a letter she showed to me when we were at "Jesse's" favorite spa in New Mexico, celebrating his birthday together. She told me that "Jesse's" business managers/lawyers sent her the letter after "Jesse's" death. She said I should keep it. Click on the pages to biggify.
And yeah, that's right, apparently there's "Jesse" semen somewhere, for potential impregnation of his ex-wife "Krista." And if we're to take Janna's and "Alice's" allegations post confrontation that every single person involved with "Jesse" fabricated names, professions, locations and fuck knows what else, how amazing is it that "Jesse" chose to perpetuate the charade of using his made-up name and the made-up names of his therapist, ex-wife, sister and son, even when he's nearing death and leaving a confidential letter with his lawyers to give to his most excellent best friend who he loves more than anything. Go figure.
Next up, a couple of notes from "Cakey" - one that was sent to me very early on, probably in August/September 2005, along with a couple of things that "Jesse" sent me.
This next one came to me via Janna when I was in Chicago for a few hours, in October 2006. We went to a restaurant and she gave me a little package from "Cakey" - a hat, some rocks from the ranch, and this postcard.
This is the first time I've looked at these since I put them in the box with the rest of my "Jesse" memorabilia. It doesn't look like the same handwriting at all, does it? I'm inclined to think that Janna either forgot about the first note, or didn't think I was weirdly sentimental enough to save it.
Now we have a drawing from "Rhys," 6-year-old son of "Jesse."
This was allegedly done in "Annie Martel's" office while "Jesse" was waiting for his therapy appointment with "Rhys." "Rhys" was apparently disgruntled that he had limited art supplies to work with. He called me the "land mermaid."
A postcard sent to me from "Aidan Blaine," "Jesse's" Irish half-brother, son of "Davian."
This was sent to me after Janna was found out and ousted from my home. I don't know if she was still trying to cast doubt on my friends' discoveries, or if she was just fucking with me, or what. I do know that she could have called someone in Australia and asked them to send it for her, the message is so fucking oblique it could mean anything, and means absolutely nothing. Sorry for what loss? The loss of "Jesse" or my dog seven months earlier? The loss of Janna's friendship? Means nothing.
I received this box in early April 2007, Janna still trying to do I'm not sure what.
The customs label is in what one would assume is "Krista's" handwriting. The signature, illegible. In the box was the quilt I'd bought "Rhys" for his fifth birthday in 2005, as well as the Mozart toy I got him. I reckon it's either a "fuck you" from Janna, or her still persisting in pretending all these people existed and "Rhys" just couldn't bear to possess anything given to him by someone as horrid as me.
Here's the return label.
The address? It's a mall. I knew "Krista" was loaded, but didn't know her family owned White Plains mall. Wowee.
A thank-you card from "Janna" and her family from January 2007, for the Christmas gifts I gave them.
And last, but not least, a handwritten note from Janna that she left me when we were at the New Mexico spa. Really. I save everything. Poor poor Janna, for not realizing what a sentimental packrat I am.
This is practically the only thing I have that's handwritten by Janna, most of the lengthy notes she sent me were computer printouts, and no, that wasn't a red flag neither. My friend Caroline does that all the time, and I know she is who she says she is.
That's it for now. I'm tired.
First we have a letter from "Jesse," as a handwriting sample, but also another example of just how far Janna will go. This was a letter she showed to me when we were at "Jesse's" favorite spa in New Mexico, celebrating his birthday together. She told me that "Jesse's" business managers/lawyers sent her the letter after "Jesse's" death. She said I should keep it. Click on the pages to biggify.
And yeah, that's right, apparently there's "Jesse" semen somewhere, for potential impregnation of his ex-wife "Krista." And if we're to take Janna's and "Alice's" allegations post confrontation that every single person involved with "Jesse" fabricated names, professions, locations and fuck knows what else, how amazing is it that "Jesse" chose to perpetuate the charade of using his made-up name and the made-up names of his therapist, ex-wife, sister and son, even when he's nearing death and leaving a confidential letter with his lawyers to give to his most excellent best friend who he loves more than anything. Go figure.Next up, a couple of notes from "Cakey" - one that was sent to me very early on, probably in August/September 2005, along with a couple of things that "Jesse" sent me.
This next one came to me via Janna when I was in Chicago for a few hours, in October 2006. We went to a restaurant and she gave me a little package from "Cakey" - a hat, some rocks from the ranch, and this postcard.
This is the first time I've looked at these since I put them in the box with the rest of my "Jesse" memorabilia. It doesn't look like the same handwriting at all, does it? I'm inclined to think that Janna either forgot about the first note, or didn't think I was weirdly sentimental enough to save it.Now we have a drawing from "Rhys," 6-year-old son of "Jesse."
This was allegedly done in "Annie Martel's" office while "Jesse" was waiting for his therapy appointment with "Rhys." "Rhys" was apparently disgruntled that he had limited art supplies to work with. He called me the "land mermaid."A postcard sent to me from "Aidan Blaine," "Jesse's" Irish half-brother, son of "Davian."
This was sent to me after Janna was found out and ousted from my home. I don't know if she was still trying to cast doubt on my friends' discoveries, or if she was just fucking with me, or what. I do know that she could have called someone in Australia and asked them to send it for her, the message is so fucking oblique it could mean anything, and means absolutely nothing. Sorry for what loss? The loss of "Jesse" or my dog seven months earlier? The loss of Janna's friendship? Means nothing.I received this box in early April 2007, Janna still trying to do I'm not sure what.
The customs label is in what one would assume is "Krista's" handwriting. The signature, illegible. In the box was the quilt I'd bought "Rhys" for his fifth birthday in 2005, as well as the Mozart toy I got him. I reckon it's either a "fuck you" from Janna, or her still persisting in pretending all these people existed and "Rhys" just couldn't bear to possess anything given to him by someone as horrid as me.Here's the return label.
The address? It's a mall. I knew "Krista" was loaded, but didn't know her family owned White Plains mall. Wowee.A thank-you card from "Janna" and her family from January 2007, for the Christmas gifts I gave them.
And last, but not least, a handwritten note from Janna that she left me when we were at the New Mexico spa. Really. I save everything. Poor poor Janna, for not realizing what a sentimental packrat I am.
This is practically the only thing I have that's handwritten by Janna, most of the lengthy notes she sent me were computer printouts, and no, that wasn't a red flag neither. My friend Caroline does that all the time, and I know she is who she says she is.That's it for now. I'm tired.
more email
Here's one I got from Janna herself about three days after we started a dialogue - I'm not including the whole email, because a lot of it is irrelevant, talking about tshirts and bras and hammered dulcimers, but she confided in me about "Jesse," so let's just start there. Oh, and did I ever mention that Janna had an affair with "Jesse," after she hired him to work for her at AP?
It was my intent to ask you today if it would OK with you if I mentioned to our auBoy that we've begun a dialog. I like it and if you do too, and we keep it, I'd prefer to not have to say "Au by the way..." months down the road.
This is kind of ironic because in my mailbox today is an E from him telling me he's begun to tell you his story. This isn't something he does freely, easily or often. In my opinion it's a rarity actually, as he believes he's guided to safe harbors but doesn't sail off looking for one that often. It doesn't surprise me he'd drop anchor with you.
It's funny because for Season 1 and the majority of Season 2 he and I shared our obsession with "Deadwood." I think I even wore him down with my Milch madness. Another friend told me HBO had a "Deadwood" Web site where I would find LOTS of people just. like. me. I did!
I brought auBoy into the mix, though I was frought with all kinds of reservations. I didn't know enough about what I was getting into, being a "community" novice. The nastiness and fighting just blew me away, but then {REDACTED} said it was worse in other places. I can't imagine, but that somehow made me feel better enough to hang in there.
The LAST thing auBoy needed was some online unpleasantness or worse, weirdness. A bad online experience we shared as total Web virgins left us both badly scarred and scared.
After two fairly rocky weeks on the board, being true to what had pretty much become the most recent incarnation of his 3D self, something seemed to come over him. I don't know whether it's the anonymity of it, or the anonymous familiarity posting offers or what. But I started to see things, read things, from him I haven't seen in years. YEARS.
As I'm sure he's told you or will tell you himself, he's had a rough ride. He came to me in an upswing. A point where he was young enough and resilient enough to effectively just stuff it all down inside and just try to be himself. Over time, I do believe I got as much of the whole person as anyone outside him will ever be able to get. I cherish it.
I fell in love with the fun and fooly, fully open person he offered me. Offered everyone. Over time, I realized I've never known an onion so complex. The more layers he peeled back, the more amazed I was that he still breathes. Every day, every detail, only made me love him more. It didn't matter how dark or light the detail was, by the time it hit my canvas it was just fucking psychedelic!
Eventually we all lost him and I mean really lost him. To sadness, to circumstance, to a total lack of coping skills sharp and fast enough to deal with all that was tossed at him. I'd resigned myself to loving him forever, but also to the fact the him I loved first was also gone forever.
At first when I'd read some of his posts in cyberDeadwood I'd just go "Hmm." Then every so often I'd actually have to smile.
Then one morning I woke up and read an exchange he'd had in {REDACTED} with some people and {REDACTED} himself. The more I read, the more I sat here sobbing like a lunatic. The dogs thought I was insane, yet again.
It was the conversation that included {REDACTED} and {REDACTED} and I think one other of the guys. The night the term "entendredudes" was born. They talked softball and guy stuff until the womens' {REDACTED} heat sensors went off and they began to arrive.
I found it so interesting that although we're talking only two dimensions, somehow {REDACTED} had run into the core Jesse.
There's been a few more of those blocks of pure Jesse on there since. Parts of his personality that I'd mourned and buried are BACK! Who the fuck would have guessed that a Deadwood fan community would produce this? Certainly not I.
So I've TOTALLY stopped beating myself up for bringing him there. I have a master's in psychology but never practiced because I'm an Earth Mother and can't leave it at the office. It consumed me. Though I intellectually KNOW that therapy is really just finding a good enough facilitator to get one talking because the answers are within, I'd never seen it work. Now I have. He's got a "room" full of facilitators, both general and specific.
I can't tell you how good it is to see him again. I'm a cautious person anymore, but I'm having a hard time trying not to celebrate this return for fear he will disappear again. I can't help myself.
The Internet is not all bad juju.
My, I'm running off at the keyboard today. Sorry.
I just need to add that his name really IS Jesse James. This actually served as bond between us in our very first exchange because my daughter is Jessica Saint James, or Jessi as she prefers. We wrote some letters back and forth as he was wrangling for a job. In the SECOND LETTER he said something to the effect of "It's good I have the same name as your little daughter. This way when you scream "yes Jesse, yes!" in your sleep your husband will think you're talking to your kid." Carumba!
He never wrote for me using that name though. He always used a nom de plume he was more comforable with. Actually, I can see that because my child has grumbled MANY a time to me. There is a stripper in Denver named Jessi St. James and people we know in Colorado that see the ads in "The Denver Post" always ask her if that's HER. Notorious just isn't for everyone. Nor is attention. And I think those two generate enough without any help from their monikers.
One other thing that struck me when I was re-reading a bunch of her emails - she mentions a brother who worked for United, apparently as quite the insider, for 20 years till he got laid off. Assuming he got another job in the airline industry, I'm sure he had no problem mailing things for her from his various layovers. So maybe he's in cahoots with her, and I was talking to him on the phone, or maybe she just gulled him into mailing things from various locales around the globe by feeding him a line of bullshit. Maybe she told him I was a stamp collector. Dunno....
It was my intent to ask you today if it would OK with you if I mentioned to our auBoy that we've begun a dialog. I like it and if you do too, and we keep it, I'd prefer to not have to say "Au by the way..." months down the road.
This is kind of ironic because in my mailbox today is an E from him telling me he's begun to tell you his story. This isn't something he does freely, easily or often. In my opinion it's a rarity actually, as he believes he's guided to safe harbors but doesn't sail off looking for one that often. It doesn't surprise me he'd drop anchor with you.
It's funny because for Season 1 and the majority of Season 2 he and I shared our obsession with "Deadwood." I think I even wore him down with my Milch madness. Another friend told me HBO had a "Deadwood" Web site where I would find LOTS of people just. like. me. I did!
I brought auBoy into the mix, though I was frought with all kinds of reservations. I didn't know enough about what I was getting into, being a "community" novice. The nastiness and fighting just blew me away, but then {REDACTED} said it was worse in other places. I can't imagine, but that somehow made me feel better enough to hang in there.
The LAST thing auBoy needed was some online unpleasantness or worse, weirdness. A bad online experience we shared as total Web virgins left us both badly scarred and scared.
After two fairly rocky weeks on the board, being true to what had pretty much become the most recent incarnation of his 3D self, something seemed to come over him. I don't know whether it's the anonymity of it, or the anonymous familiarity posting offers or what. But I started to see things, read things, from him I haven't seen in years. YEARS.
As I'm sure he's told you or will tell you himself, he's had a rough ride. He came to me in an upswing. A point where he was young enough and resilient enough to effectively just stuff it all down inside and just try to be himself. Over time, I do believe I got as much of the whole person as anyone outside him will ever be able to get. I cherish it.
I fell in love with the fun and fooly, fully open person he offered me. Offered everyone. Over time, I realized I've never known an onion so complex. The more layers he peeled back, the more amazed I was that he still breathes. Every day, every detail, only made me love him more. It didn't matter how dark or light the detail was, by the time it hit my canvas it was just fucking psychedelic!
Eventually we all lost him and I mean really lost him. To sadness, to circumstance, to a total lack of coping skills sharp and fast enough to deal with all that was tossed at him. I'd resigned myself to loving him forever, but also to the fact the him I loved first was also gone forever.
At first when I'd read some of his posts in cyberDeadwood I'd just go "Hmm." Then every so often I'd actually have to smile.
Then one morning I woke up and read an exchange he'd had in {REDACTED} with some people and {REDACTED} himself. The more I read, the more I sat here sobbing like a lunatic. The dogs thought I was insane, yet again.
It was the conversation that included {REDACTED} and {REDACTED} and I think one other of the guys. The night the term "entendredudes" was born. They talked softball and guy stuff until the womens' {REDACTED} heat sensors went off and they began to arrive.
I found it so interesting that although we're talking only two dimensions, somehow {REDACTED} had run into the core Jesse.
There's been a few more of those blocks of pure Jesse on there since. Parts of his personality that I'd mourned and buried are BACK! Who the fuck would have guessed that a Deadwood fan community would produce this? Certainly not I.
So I've TOTALLY stopped beating myself up for bringing him there. I have a master's in psychology but never practiced because I'm an Earth Mother and can't leave it at the office. It consumed me. Though I intellectually KNOW that therapy is really just finding a good enough facilitator to get one talking because the answers are within, I'd never seen it work. Now I have. He's got a "room" full of facilitators, both general and specific.
I can't tell you how good it is to see him again. I'm a cautious person anymore, but I'm having a hard time trying not to celebrate this return for fear he will disappear again. I can't help myself.
The Internet is not all bad juju.
My, I'm running off at the keyboard today. Sorry.
I just need to add that his name really IS Jesse James. This actually served as bond between us in our very first exchange because my daughter is Jessica Saint James, or Jessi as she prefers. We wrote some letters back and forth as he was wrangling for a job. In the SECOND LETTER he said something to the effect of "It's good I have the same name as your little daughter. This way when you scream "yes Jesse, yes!" in your sleep your husband will think you're talking to your kid." Carumba!
He never wrote for me using that name though. He always used a nom de plume he was more comforable with. Actually, I can see that because my child has grumbled MANY a time to me. There is a stripper in Denver named Jessi St. James and people we know in Colorado that see the ads in "The Denver Post" always ask her if that's HER. Notorious just isn't for everyone. Nor is attention. And I think those two generate enough without any help from their monikers.
One other thing that struck me when I was re-reading a bunch of her emails - she mentions a brother who worked for United, apparently as quite the insider, for 20 years till he got laid off. Assuming he got another job in the airline industry, I'm sure he had no problem mailing things for her from his various layovers. So maybe he's in cahoots with her, and I was talking to him on the phone, or maybe she just gulled him into mailing things from various locales around the globe by feeding him a line of bullshit. Maybe she told him I was a stamp collector. Dunno....
hey, A
A quick hey to say thanks for the info, I ain't gonna post your comment, though, and I think you know why...but thanks. I did not know that.
Oh, and JR - I have no idea which old address you're talking about, but I've created a new special blogger email addy up in my profile, heh heh.
Oh, and JR - I have no idea which old address you're talking about, but I've created a new special blogger email addy up in my profile, heh heh.
cash cow
Today I'm puzzled by people who seem to think I'm making money off this somehow - not sure how I'd be doing that. So, for the record, I didn't see a penny for that LA Weekly article, I'm not likely to see a penny should a movie be made of this (but I doubt it will). I didn't even go out of my way to make sure my friends saw the article -- a lot of them did, and stumbled upon this blog through Googling Janna's name (along with the other 25,687 people who've hit it this week). If I really wanted to make a buck, I'd be mentioning my business ventures here (it's cool stuff, you'd like it, oh well).
But. That. Isn't. What. It's. About.
It's about Janna St. James and her demented way of whiling away the hours in her sorry, tedious, unfulfilling life in Batavia, Illinois.
Which is why I posted a link to her trinket site a few days back. Please. Buy something from her. The trinkets are cute. Bitch needs to keep busy. It could be your ten bucks that keeps her from writing a bullshit email to the next Audrey.
But. That. Isn't. What. It's. About.
It's about Janna St. James and her demented way of whiling away the hours in her sorry, tedious, unfulfilling life in Batavia, Illinois.
Which is why I posted a link to her trinket site a few days back. Please. Buy something from her. The trinkets are cute. Bitch needs to keep busy. It could be your ten bucks that keeps her from writing a bullshit email to the next Audrey.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
blast from the past
Here's my first real email from "Jesse." Prior to this one, it was just initial contact to get real email addresses through HBO. Once again, I've changed names of people that don't need to be drug into this anymore than they already have been.
This is from July 8, 2005 - oh and for those pervy types reading, the "balls" being discussed are bath bombs
I opened the mail and had shit to write but the minute I stopped typing on the board the travel caught up with mzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. The They say there are no stupid questions but i feel stupid asking this. I'm pretty online interactive ignorant. The majority of my only experience has been really really bad experience and so now I hear all the folks in my head. The ones yelling no personal info no personal info not even a name. This is not a problem for me with you but i have this as the ???. So far 5 people from the deadwood group have asked me for an address ranging from the sweet {REDACTED} to one of the chicks on the {REDACTED} thread that actually just about scared me away from the place it was so intense. So the stupid question is-- if I succumb to my desire for the balls can I count on the stand up sense of discretion that rises from you in other situations in my case? This sounds so fucking stupid but in the case of {REDACTED} and the 3 others I just don't want to make them feel bad and in the case of chick 5-- if she knew I gave to you what i wouldn't give to her she'd find me and gut me. Or worse-- bitch and yell at me-- which is a horror throw back for auBoy and not good for his head in any way, shape, or form. I hope they aren't blue. I got enough of those myself.
Jesse
Caffeine is my co-pilot
My response
Hi, Jesse.
Relax. I'll talk about myself till the proverbial cows come home, and oh, all right, I talk shit about slebs I hate, like Tom Cruise. But I do not mention private shit that goes on between me and anybody on the boards, much to the chagrin of a few!
But I understand if you don't want to give your addy out. Just know that it's safe with me. The balls will be here for when you're ready....and, yeah, some of the nicest Lush ones are blue, but I promise not to send 'em to ya.
And yeah. Some folks are just fuckin' crazy, internets or no fucking internets.
I've gotta go make some coffee before my 10am meeting. We'll talk more.
xp
Oh, sad, gullible me, eh? Laying the groundwork with the very first email. Way to go, Janna.
But then, eight hours later, I get hit with this one:
You wrote "we'll talk more" and because i'm feelin a sudden sense of urgency I'm makin that come true on my end. There's a forest fire in Custer county and that's too close for them to not call me up. i knew it was coming I just didn't know when. it always depends on the whether the weather helps or hurts. I've been a volunteer firefighter since I was a kid but I went to the Wildfire Academy in Alamosa to get my forest fire certification about a decade ago after they lost 14 fighters at Storm King in Glenwood Springs. So far i've lived thru a lot of them but I try not to stuff down my fear because I think fear can help keep you alive. There are 12 of us going from the surrounding counties here so they're gonna chopper us over and in. Good for me with the leg cause that car sittin is murder on it. They only asked for 24 hours and i can manage that. The last piece to write will have to wait because i'd rather spend this time between now and my ride at 6 on the ridge with my laptop, wireless card, and you.
Air.
Ya the internet has pretty much sucked for me on a couple levels. I came into deadwood at magnolia's request for a couple of really good reasons but i did it kicking and screaming and I think that kinda showed in my earliest tude riddled posts. She is somebody who was the most fucking open book I've ever known but that naivete and her "people with nothing to hide hide nothing" stand got her into some serious online shit. She is a longtime, back to teenagers friends with a has been musician that still had a psycho following about 8 ago when she first got a computer. Long story short a "friend" of hers (who she forgives) let people know in a chatroom for this guy that she knew somebody who knew him.
Air.
I don't get what people will do to feel important or project importance even third or fourth hand. Like those degrees of separation. I'd never admit it about this particular tool because its fucking embarrassing cause the dick is a recluse prick and Magnolia'd never drop it because she reminds me of you in all that. I think people who have been around celebrity don't see it the same as people who want to be around celebrity. But long story short this led to Nolie hearing from a lot of freaks and one freak in particular who didn't know her but who took to wanting to write her some pretty serious and scarey shit about her friend. When she in her overly fucking diplomatic way wrote back to this person that she didn't think that kind of stuff was appropriate or comfortable for her to be talking about this thing flipped out on her. It took to stalking her and about three years into that it was finally figured out that this same freak had stalked the celebrity for 20 years-- since they'd lived in the same town.
Air.
The simplest stuff this fucking asshole did made us all laugh. Like posting in the Screech from Saved By the Bell worship forum under Magnolia's real name. Lots of other places too. But it also ferreted out pretty much her whole life and built a torment web site where it would post this stuff about her, the tool, and a few other people it was stalking. Magnolia was listed in those days and one day this freak calls her house and tells her daughter that her mother was in an accident and they really needed her father's name to start treatment because the insurance was in his name. Magnolia kept her own name and this freak was always PO-d that it couldn't track her husband cause his name was differetn. The poor kid didn't know any better and gave it up. So then they both had some pretty embarrassing shit floating around the net.
Air.
Next he moved to calling and telling Nolia what her offspring looked like, wearing, where she herself was the day before-- shit like that. She ended up moving 1200 miles away from the land she loves and people who loved her to try to escape this freak. This stuff made me insane and because I think I'm pretty fucking smart I started tangling with this thing to try to out it. I never succeeded. Neither did a cop who took on the case to use for his goal of introducing internet laws for passage about what he calls the lawless cyber Wild Frontier. He's still working on the case. It's been 8 years.
Air.
It was my insanity at the frustration of a couple years of not being able to find out who the FUCK was doing this that made sure everybody in my life knew about it. I would talk about it to the spouse and to my sister. Especially when this thing learned my name and begin its assault on me. You would not believe the elaborate means this thing goes thru to cause pain. It's a long fucking story but it created "another woman" for me-- an online lover-- and dropped her in places my wife would see. that shit was actually introduced in my divorce proceedings. I think now Mrs.X-au knows there was no woman but she didn't then and it wasn't as if I didn't make it bad enough all by myself. I didn't need any help in proving myself unworthy or fucked up. Chasing this freak was probably my only redeeming quality at that time and my vices were sex exclusive at that point so it was twice as stupid.
Air.
We-- Nolia, cop, me-- all thought we stumbled on this freak in online Deadwood. He was there first because he likes old timey Wild West shit. He lives in Colorado and is into the whole Village People cowboy outfits deal. People sick to fucking death of Magnolia going on about Deadwood pointed her to the forum. She thought she'd just lurk. The very first day Nolia went to Deadwood the first page she happened to open-- there was somebody mentioning the Celebritool and how his parents lived "2 houses down" from this guy and maybe he could hook up the Deadwood chick asking him about it. (no one lives next to this guy. He lives on a section-- 550 acres-- with the closest neighbor about 5 miles away. There are no "doors down".) She said her blood ran cold. When she paid attention to the MO of this person over a few weeks it was just too big a coincidence to not be the same freak. Cop says the same.
Air.
But Magnolia didn't bring me into it right away. She wanted to make sure I wasn't going to flip the fuck out and go after this thing again. Personally I agreed with her that this fuck h as enough of our lives already and we decided not to give it the time of day. I actually stayed away at first. She has been real real careful about what she says so as to not let it get downwind of her. She finally called me in to read some stuff that had nothing to do with the freak at all. It was you and [REDACTED]. This was interesting to us because it was so spontaneious and intoxicating and enthusiastic and inspired and delicious. It reminded us of us. I was Magnolia's {REDACTED}.
Air.
It was reading you that got me hooked and then every other fucking brilliant star that writes there. Because i didn't want to fixate I tried to get around in other threads but as I said-- that bought me some trouble I wasn't looking for. The one woman latched onto me in e-mail and while it might seem like I'm after sex talk i don't think I really am because she scared the shit out of me. Angry person too. I tried to let her down as nicely as I could by telling her i'm a fuck up who is still way too into trying to get it right right now. She was writing to Magnolia too then and asking personal questions about me. Magnolia had already learned that online in particular she can't live by "people with nothing to hide hide nothing" and shut the woman down. The woman thought it was suspicious that Magnolia would say nothing. That I'd say nothing. Then this woman decided i was {REDACTED} because "{REDACTED} says sammich and you said sammich". Okay............... At the same time she was accusing {REDACTED} of being {REDACTED} and somebody named {REDACTED} i've never seen. Our kiss of death came when the {REDACTED} thread was talking about tampons and all the details that go along with that. That don't appeal to me. By coincidence it didn't appeal to Magnolia either as she's turned off by the graphic and scatagorical in real life too. Because we both posted in the {REDACTED} thread that night she wrote both of us bitchy e-mail about being traders. Coincidence again-- we both wrote her we just weren't into the topic. It was then she decided we were the same person. Minutes after writing my "bad trader boy because there is a competition with the {REDACTED} thread" e-mail she made a fake name and dropped that post that said I was Magnolia-- but dropped it no place else other than the {REDACTED} thread. Three minutes after that she posted in the {REDACTED} thread. that doesn't make me a deducer because its just my job that trains me to look at consistencies/ inconsistencies like that. I natually follow details even if i don't want to. I believe she did do it and now hates me because I wouldn't answer the flood of apology e-mails except for a thanks and its okay in the thread itself. This i only mention because I shared this with my sister too and it was at this point she said "if you ever bring any of this to darken my door and threaten my children". She doesn't even have to finish that.
Air.
My sister has helped save my life and I won't do anything to bring stupid or danger to her or her family. As kids she saved me from my parents too. She not only helps keep me strong she also makes it possible to move forward. this summer for the first time my son is coming to me for two weeks. In the past I've been able to see him at Christmas and in summer but only by going to him and having supervised visits there. Mrs. X-au totally trusts my sister and that along with the fact miniAu can tell her if he hates being here now has brought her to let him come stay with the auSis. He'll be just a few acres away from me. This fuckin freaks me out because I don't know him and vice versa but there too auSis is gonna make it all good.
Air.
I don't even deserve this chance so I gotta make it good. The last night i was alone with him he was just a flesh lump. I left an infant alone to go score drink and drugs after being clean for months. I'd been sober, safe, and sane for so long his mom finally felt it was safe enough to go out for an overnight shopping girlfriend deal in nyc. It's no excuse but we were living in the east then and i'd been covering the aftermath of 9-11 for two months straight. The auBoy is soft and had a rough time with the magnitude of that. I didn't know where to put it or how to escape it after awhile. Getting megahigh just seemed like the way to go. So that little baby lay there on his back all alone while I went to buy and then worse lay there all alone while my body was busy playing tennis with life and death on the living room floor. By the time I got out of the hospital they were both gone. The house was empty but that was nothing compared to the vacant space in me.
Air.
So what the fuck is this you're thinkin? What the fuck is he telling me this for? we're back to catching a chopper within minutes. if I wasn't going where i'm going right now and wasn't afraid about it I'd never write this. this way tho, if something happened to me I was able to tell you some shit I would have wanted to tell you over time we didn't have. This way I've calmed myself before the firestorm and covered my ass in case that mistress death decides to fuck me.
I'm sure it's easy for you to be beautiful every day. For lots of women. But it takes soemthing special to be so incredibly beautiful flat, black, and white on a computer screen. You so shine. I'll think of you when I cinch that harness around my thighs.
Jesse
Caffeine is my co-pilot
Just call me sucker.
This is from July 8, 2005 - oh and for those pervy types reading, the "balls" being discussed are bath bombs
I opened the mail and had shit to write but the minute I stopped typing on the board the travel caught up with mzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. The They say there are no stupid questions but i feel stupid asking this. I'm pretty online interactive ignorant. The majority of my only experience has been really really bad experience and so now I hear all the folks in my head. The ones yelling no personal info no personal info not even a name. This is not a problem for me with you but i have this as the ???. So far 5 people from the deadwood group have asked me for an address ranging from the sweet {REDACTED} to one of the chicks on the {REDACTED} thread that actually just about scared me away from the place it was so intense. So the stupid question is-- if I succumb to my desire for the balls can I count on the stand up sense of discretion that rises from you in other situations in my case? This sounds so fucking stupid but in the case of {REDACTED} and the 3 others I just don't want to make them feel bad and in the case of chick 5-- if she knew I gave to you what i wouldn't give to her she'd find me and gut me. Or worse-- bitch and yell at me-- which is a horror throw back for auBoy and not good for his head in any way, shape, or form. I hope they aren't blue. I got enough of those myself.
Jesse
Caffeine is my co-pilot
My response
Hi, Jesse.
Relax. I'll talk about myself till the proverbial cows come home, and oh, all right, I talk shit about slebs I hate, like Tom Cruise. But I do not mention private shit that goes on between me and anybody on the boards, much to the chagrin of a few!
But I understand if you don't want to give your addy out. Just know that it's safe with me. The balls will be here for when you're ready....and, yeah, some of the nicest Lush ones are blue, but I promise not to send 'em to ya.
And yeah. Some folks are just fuckin' crazy, internets or no fucking internets.
I've gotta go make some coffee before my 10am meeting. We'll talk more.
xp
Oh, sad, gullible me, eh? Laying the groundwork with the very first email. Way to go, Janna.
But then, eight hours later, I get hit with this one:
You wrote "we'll talk more" and because i'm feelin a sudden sense of urgency I'm makin that come true on my end. There's a forest fire in Custer county and that's too close for them to not call me up. i knew it was coming I just didn't know when. it always depends on the whether the weather helps or hurts. I've been a volunteer firefighter since I was a kid but I went to the Wildfire Academy in Alamosa to get my forest fire certification about a decade ago after they lost 14 fighters at Storm King in Glenwood Springs. So far i've lived thru a lot of them but I try not to stuff down my fear because I think fear can help keep you alive. There are 12 of us going from the surrounding counties here so they're gonna chopper us over and in. Good for me with the leg cause that car sittin is murder on it. They only asked for 24 hours and i can manage that. The last piece to write will have to wait because i'd rather spend this time between now and my ride at 6 on the ridge with my laptop, wireless card, and you.
Air.
Ya the internet has pretty much sucked for me on a couple levels. I came into deadwood at magnolia's request for a couple of really good reasons but i did it kicking and screaming and I think that kinda showed in my earliest tude riddled posts. She is somebody who was the most fucking open book I've ever known but that naivete and her "people with nothing to hide hide nothing" stand got her into some serious online shit. She is a longtime, back to teenagers friends with a has been musician that still had a psycho following about 8 ago when she first got a computer. Long story short a "friend" of hers (who she forgives) let people know in a chatroom for this guy that she knew somebody who knew him.
Air.
I don't get what people will do to feel important or project importance even third or fourth hand. Like those degrees of separation. I'd never admit it about this particular tool because its fucking embarrassing cause the dick is a recluse prick and Magnolia'd never drop it because she reminds me of you in all that. I think people who have been around celebrity don't see it the same as people who want to be around celebrity. But long story short this led to Nolie hearing from a lot of freaks and one freak in particular who didn't know her but who took to wanting to write her some pretty serious and scarey shit about her friend. When she in her overly fucking diplomatic way wrote back to this person that she didn't think that kind of stuff was appropriate or comfortable for her to be talking about this thing flipped out on her. It took to stalking her and about three years into that it was finally figured out that this same freak had stalked the celebrity for 20 years-- since they'd lived in the same town.
Air.
The simplest stuff this fucking asshole did made us all laugh. Like posting in the Screech from Saved By the Bell worship forum under Magnolia's real name. Lots of other places too. But it also ferreted out pretty much her whole life and built a torment web site where it would post this stuff about her, the tool, and a few other people it was stalking. Magnolia was listed in those days and one day this freak calls her house and tells her daughter that her mother was in an accident and they really needed her father's name to start treatment because the insurance was in his name. Magnolia kept her own name and this freak was always PO-d that it couldn't track her husband cause his name was differetn. The poor kid didn't know any better and gave it up. So then they both had some pretty embarrassing shit floating around the net.
Air.
Next he moved to calling and telling Nolia what her offspring looked like, wearing, where she herself was the day before-- shit like that. She ended up moving 1200 miles away from the land she loves and people who loved her to try to escape this freak. This stuff made me insane and because I think I'm pretty fucking smart I started tangling with this thing to try to out it. I never succeeded. Neither did a cop who took on the case to use for his goal of introducing internet laws for passage about what he calls the lawless cyber Wild Frontier. He's still working on the case. It's been 8 years.
Air.
It was my insanity at the frustration of a couple years of not being able to find out who the FUCK was doing this that made sure everybody in my life knew about it. I would talk about it to the spouse and to my sister. Especially when this thing learned my name and begin its assault on me. You would not believe the elaborate means this thing goes thru to cause pain. It's a long fucking story but it created "another woman" for me-- an online lover-- and dropped her in places my wife would see. that shit was actually introduced in my divorce proceedings. I think now Mrs.X-au knows there was no woman but she didn't then and it wasn't as if I didn't make it bad enough all by myself. I didn't need any help in proving myself unworthy or fucked up. Chasing this freak was probably my only redeeming quality at that time and my vices were sex exclusive at that point so it was twice as stupid.
Air.
We-- Nolia, cop, me-- all thought we stumbled on this freak in online Deadwood. He was there first because he likes old timey Wild West shit. He lives in Colorado and is into the whole Village People cowboy outfits deal. People sick to fucking death of Magnolia going on about Deadwood pointed her to the forum. She thought she'd just lurk. The very first day Nolia went to Deadwood the first page she happened to open-- there was somebody mentioning the Celebritool and how his parents lived "2 houses down" from this guy and maybe he could hook up the Deadwood chick asking him about it. (no one lives next to this guy. He lives on a section-- 550 acres-- with the closest neighbor about 5 miles away. There are no "doors down".) She said her blood ran cold. When she paid attention to the MO of this person over a few weeks it was just too big a coincidence to not be the same freak. Cop says the same.
Air.
But Magnolia didn't bring me into it right away. She wanted to make sure I wasn't going to flip the fuck out and go after this thing again. Personally I agreed with her that this fuck h as enough of our lives already and we decided not to give it the time of day. I actually stayed away at first. She has been real real careful about what she says so as to not let it get downwind of her. She finally called me in to read some stuff that had nothing to do with the freak at all. It was you and [REDACTED]. This was interesting to us because it was so spontaneious and intoxicating and enthusiastic and inspired and delicious. It reminded us of us. I was Magnolia's {REDACTED}.
Air.
It was reading you that got me hooked and then every other fucking brilliant star that writes there. Because i didn't want to fixate I tried to get around in other threads but as I said-- that bought me some trouble I wasn't looking for. The one woman latched onto me in e-mail and while it might seem like I'm after sex talk i don't think I really am because she scared the shit out of me. Angry person too. I tried to let her down as nicely as I could by telling her i'm a fuck up who is still way too into trying to get it right right now. She was writing to Magnolia too then and asking personal questions about me. Magnolia had already learned that online in particular she can't live by "people with nothing to hide hide nothing" and shut the woman down. The woman thought it was suspicious that Magnolia would say nothing. That I'd say nothing. Then this woman decided i was {REDACTED} because "{REDACTED} says sammich and you said sammich". Okay............... At the same time she was accusing {REDACTED} of being {REDACTED} and somebody named {REDACTED} i've never seen. Our kiss of death came when the {REDACTED} thread was talking about tampons and all the details that go along with that. That don't appeal to me. By coincidence it didn't appeal to Magnolia either as she's turned off by the graphic and scatagorical in real life too. Because we both posted in the {REDACTED} thread that night she wrote both of us bitchy e-mail about being traders. Coincidence again-- we both wrote her we just weren't into the topic. It was then she decided we were the same person. Minutes after writing my "bad trader boy because there is a competition with the {REDACTED} thread" e-mail she made a fake name and dropped that post that said I was Magnolia-- but dropped it no place else other than the {REDACTED} thread. Three minutes after that she posted in the {REDACTED} thread. that doesn't make me a deducer because its just my job that trains me to look at consistencies/ inconsistencies like that. I natually follow details even if i don't want to. I believe she did do it and now hates me because I wouldn't answer the flood of apology e-mails except for a thanks and its okay in the thread itself. This i only mention because I shared this with my sister too and it was at this point she said "if you ever bring any of this to darken my door and threaten my children". She doesn't even have to finish that.
Air.
My sister has helped save my life and I won't do anything to bring stupid or danger to her or her family. As kids she saved me from my parents too. She not only helps keep me strong she also makes it possible to move forward. this summer for the first time my son is coming to me for two weeks. In the past I've been able to see him at Christmas and in summer but only by going to him and having supervised visits there. Mrs. X-au totally trusts my sister and that along with the fact miniAu can tell her if he hates being here now has brought her to let him come stay with the auSis. He'll be just a few acres away from me. This fuckin freaks me out because I don't know him and vice versa but there too auSis is gonna make it all good.
Air.
I don't even deserve this chance so I gotta make it good. The last night i was alone with him he was just a flesh lump. I left an infant alone to go score drink and drugs after being clean for months. I'd been sober, safe, and sane for so long his mom finally felt it was safe enough to go out for an overnight shopping girlfriend deal in nyc. It's no excuse but we were living in the east then and i'd been covering the aftermath of 9-11 for two months straight. The auBoy is soft and had a rough time with the magnitude of that. I didn't know where to put it or how to escape it after awhile. Getting megahigh just seemed like the way to go. So that little baby lay there on his back all alone while I went to buy and then worse lay there all alone while my body was busy playing tennis with life and death on the living room floor. By the time I got out of the hospital they were both gone. The house was empty but that was nothing compared to the vacant space in me.
Air.
So what the fuck is this you're thinkin? What the fuck is he telling me this for? we're back to catching a chopper within minutes. if I wasn't going where i'm going right now and wasn't afraid about it I'd never write this. this way tho, if something happened to me I was able to tell you some shit I would have wanted to tell you over time we didn't have. This way I've calmed myself before the firestorm and covered my ass in case that mistress death decides to fuck me.
I'm sure it's easy for you to be beautiful every day. For lots of women. But it takes soemthing special to be so incredibly beautiful flat, black, and white on a computer screen. You so shine. I'll think of you when I cinch that harness around my thighs.
Jesse
Caffeine is my co-pilot
Just call me sucker.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
confusion, misinterpretation, and other whatthefucks
1. The copies of all the various blogs I'm linking to were the actual blogs of other people, or, in this case, other person, being that Janna wrote most of them: "Jesse's" blog, "Alice's" blog, most of the "Jesse" tribute blog, "Cakey's" blog, the "AuTeam" blog. And of course her own. It's real easy to save a blog page and then re-post it with any changes you wish to make, or at least it is when you have friends that are geeks to show you how easy it is. I just saved them to have them, at first for sentimental reasons, in the case of "Jesse's" blog, because he kept deleting them, and after the intervention as a way of keeping track of the lies Janna was spewing. I still have the original unadulterated copies, which are timestamped as proof that they have gone undoctored, should I change my mind again about pressing charges. Which I might, depending on how much Janna and her Jannafestations (known in internetland as "sock puppets" - see, I have learned something new this month!) want to continue the denials.
2. And because I know Janna Saint James is likely to start again with her bullshit protestations of innocence and claims that everyone involved with "Jesse" is in fear for their lives and livelihood because I'm allegedly such a psycho, what the hell. I renew the offer for Janna to offer her "proof" to an impartial third party. I'll hire an attorney to depose Janna and two other people who have proof of "Jesse's" existence. The "executor" of "Jesse's" estate would be preferred, and one of "Jesse's" relatives. Birth and death certificates must be furnished, as well as government-issue photo ID, including but not limited to drivers license, passport, the ID he was given by the National Forest Service, Associated Press, and any other professional organizations "Jesse" might have been involved with. Janna or "Jesse's" family must also provide copies of "Jesse's" cellphone bills, "Alice's" cellphone bills, the rental agreement for the PO Box in Denver, and "Jesse's" emancipation papers, in the possession of the "executors." Copies of newspaper articles written by "Jesse" prior to 9/11 should be furnished as well.
If necessary, the attorney will despatch a representative to Colorado to speak with people who knew "Jesse," including but not limited to the firemen he served with, the people at the Associated Press office in Denver or wherever it is Janna is claiming that she worked as an editor with "Jesse" as her crack writer. Said representative would also visit "Jesse's" ranch and meet with "Cakey," who apparently is very hurt that I think he doesn't exist.
And what the hell, the attorney should also depose Janna's mother, husband and daughter, again sending representatives to whatever locale her daughter has run off to to escape her insane mother. Janna should also furnish the court documents in her case against the Mexican chappies who raped her, beat her, and left her for dead in a cornfield. She told me two of them were convicted and the other one ran for the border. And the European hospital records for her reconstructive surgery after the brutal rape, as long as we're at it. Oh, and that Ted Bundy article she wrote also. And the medical records from her frequent visits to the Mayo Clinic.
I will pay all expenses. Aforementioned attorney will take an oath not to disclose the "real" name of "Jesse" or his "family," but will issue a notarized statement confirming that all documents requested were seen, and that the proof is incontrovertible. And then I will apologize, pull this blog from existence, and I will ask Josh and the LA Weekly to please issue a retraction.
Till then, all of Janna's claims are heaps of bullshit.
3. And for good measure, for those of you who don't want to go so far back, here's the blog of the woman "Julia," who was stalking "Jesse" in Colorado.
4. Thanks but no thanks, Billy the Kid. I'm actually seeing someone at the moment, who really truly exists (I swear!). But for making me laugh, I'll send you an iPod anyway.
2. And because I know Janna Saint James is likely to start again with her bullshit protestations of innocence and claims that everyone involved with "Jesse" is in fear for their lives and livelihood because I'm allegedly such a psycho, what the hell. I renew the offer for Janna to offer her "proof" to an impartial third party. I'll hire an attorney to depose Janna and two other people who have proof of "Jesse's" existence. The "executor" of "Jesse's" estate would be preferred, and one of "Jesse's" relatives. Birth and death certificates must be furnished, as well as government-issue photo ID, including but not limited to drivers license, passport, the ID he was given by the National Forest Service, Associated Press, and any other professional organizations "Jesse" might have been involved with. Janna or "Jesse's" family must also provide copies of "Jesse's" cellphone bills, "Alice's" cellphone bills, the rental agreement for the PO Box in Denver, and "Jesse's" emancipation papers, in the possession of the "executors." Copies of newspaper articles written by "Jesse" prior to 9/11 should be furnished as well.
If necessary, the attorney will despatch a representative to Colorado to speak with people who knew "Jesse," including but not limited to the firemen he served with, the people at the Associated Press office in Denver or wherever it is Janna is claiming that she worked as an editor with "Jesse" as her crack writer. Said representative would also visit "Jesse's" ranch and meet with "Cakey," who apparently is very hurt that I think he doesn't exist.
And what the hell, the attorney should also depose Janna's mother, husband and daughter, again sending representatives to whatever locale her daughter has run off to to escape her insane mother. Janna should also furnish the court documents in her case against the Mexican chappies who raped her, beat her, and left her for dead in a cornfield. She told me two of them were convicted and the other one ran for the border. And the European hospital records for her reconstructive surgery after the brutal rape, as long as we're at it. Oh, and that Ted Bundy article she wrote also. And the medical records from her frequent visits to the Mayo Clinic.
I will pay all expenses. Aforementioned attorney will take an oath not to disclose the "real" name of "Jesse" or his "family," but will issue a notarized statement confirming that all documents requested were seen, and that the proof is incontrovertible. And then I will apologize, pull this blog from existence, and I will ask Josh and the LA Weekly to please issue a retraction.
Till then, all of Janna's claims are heaps of bullshit.
3. And for good measure, for those of you who don't want to go so far back, here's the blog of the woman "Julia," who was stalking "Jesse" in Colorado.
4. Thanks but no thanks, Billy the Kid. I'm actually seeing someone at the moment, who really truly exists (I swear!). But for making me laugh, I'll send you an iPod anyway.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
much LOLZ were had by all
1. No, Josh does not want to fuck me. He's a famousass screenwriter, who has his pick of many lithe leggy gals, but focuses on one, who ain't me.
2. Enough with the fucking panties already. And people think I'm weird. The amount of talk and obsession that's going on around the internets about the panty-sniffing is ludicrous, and the ones that are pretending to be inteleckshul while pontificating are the funniest, and most telling. Oooooer, missus, we do love a bit of panty-sniffing, don't we? For the record: the articles of clothing we swapped were favorite shirts - I sent "Jesse" an old sweatshirt of mine so beat up the sleeves were shredded, and he sent me an old Tommy Hilfiger green cotton knit pullover and a really ugly Banana Republic shirt. It was more for sentimentality and comfort than for sniffing, although fuck knows what Janna did with mine. I didn't sniff "Jesse's" shirts, although I did wear the green one to bed and cried all over it the night he shot himself, and the night he died. I also did send "Jesse" washed but new American Apparel boyshorts, as a joke, so he could open the package in front of his ex-wife "Krista," who was trying to get back together with him, we thought it'd drive her off for sure. Ohyeah, and I also sent "Jesse" a pair of brand new copper lame' boyshorts, which he allegedly wore under his alleged jeans when he did a gig with his friend "Cakey's" alleged band. I do not now, nor have I ever, possessed a pair of BVDs or other male undergarments that purportedly belonged to "Jesse Jubilee James," for the purpose of sniffing or other prurient acts. I can't speak for Janna. Alles klar?
Sheesh.
2. Enough with the fucking panties already. And people think I'm weird. The amount of talk and obsession that's going on around the internets about the panty-sniffing is ludicrous, and the ones that are pretending to be inteleckshul while pontificating are the funniest, and most telling. Oooooer, missus, we do love a bit of panty-sniffing, don't we? For the record: the articles of clothing we swapped were favorite shirts - I sent "Jesse" an old sweatshirt of mine so beat up the sleeves were shredded, and he sent me an old Tommy Hilfiger green cotton knit pullover and a really ugly Banana Republic shirt. It was more for sentimentality and comfort than for sniffing, although fuck knows what Janna did with mine. I didn't sniff "Jesse's" shirts, although I did wear the green one to bed and cried all over it the night he shot himself, and the night he died. I also did send "Jesse" washed but new American Apparel boyshorts, as a joke, so he could open the package in front of his ex-wife "Krista," who was trying to get back together with him, we thought it'd drive her off for sure. Ohyeah, and I also sent "Jesse" a pair of brand new copper lame' boyshorts, which he allegedly wore under his alleged jeans when he did a gig with his friend "Cakey's" alleged band. I do not now, nor have I ever, possessed a pair of BVDs or other male undergarments that purportedly belonged to "Jesse Jubilee James," for the purpose of sniffing or other prurient acts. I can't speak for Janna. Alles klar?
Sheesh.
Monday, October 15, 2007
biting the hand that doesn't feed me
I've been doing a lot of reading, in between having a life. Spending too much time thinking about this again, at least more time than I'd like to be spending. Score twentyzillion for Janna Saint James. But fuck me, this shit's been dredged up again, and it is a part of my life, unfortunate though it may be, and when you hear from friends (and enemies) about the fucking article, it's like the scab's been picked raw.
It's interesting to read what complete strangers have to say about this: it's real, it's fake, "Jesse" exists but faked his own death and Janna is covering for him (hey, whose soap opera is this?), it's Janna's fault, it's my fault, it's society's fault, it's Josh's fault, it's the internet's fault (I'm sure a tighty righty somewhere will blame Al Gore for this). Whatevs. Opinions are like assholes, remember? Armchair analysts will pontificate till the llamas come home (what's the internet obsession with llamas, anyway? someone please to explain).
I've covered this before, but let's assume "Jesse" is real, some guy friend of Janna's who wanted to extricate himself from this "relationship" we had. Why was he imploring me to get a divorce right up until three days before he croaked? Okay, he's mentally unbalanced, who knows what a bipolar person is likely to do, right? But faking a death? Janna and his "ex-wife" and "friends" and "therapist" and six-year old "SON" all still talking to me for seven months afterward, all pretending "Jesse" is dead? Are they ALL insane? Janna going on a VACATION with me on "Jesse's" birthday and crying real tears in front of me, missing him? Uh, okay, sure. Contributing to a tribute blog for the not-really-dead man in their midst? Janna's coming to LA to visit me? Okay, they're all fucking nuts. But Janna was their frontman, then, by her choice, and even if this is the case it still ain't goddamned acceptable.
And why did "Jesse's" sister "Alice" send me that photo of "Jesse" and "Rhys" that was titled JohnJessicaVista.jpg? John was Janna's deceased husband, Jessica her daughter. "Alice" despised Janna, what the fuck would she be doing with a 25-year-old photo of Janna's first husband and baby? And why did they look EXACTLY like the other pictures I'd seen up to that point of "Jesse" and "Rhys?" (I dunno, but I'll bet Janna will have a faaaabulous explanation for that!) So let's go with Janna's future explanation about how she allowed "Jesse" to use photos of her dead husband and pretend they were him, and that she and "Alice" are really thick as thieves, or that she was at "Jesse's" ranch and left that photo in their scanner. Let's instead turn to things that cain't lie. Technology. Funny what looking at the headers of the eleventy-billion emails turned up when I had geeks who could interpret all of that for me. Amazing that emails from "Jesse's" friend "Pavlo" in Argentina, his brother "Aidan" (I am getting SO fucking tired of quotation marks) in goddamned Africa, his sister "Branna" in Eire, emails from "Jesse" in Paki-fucking-stan, all bounced from IP addresses originating in -- say it with me, kiddies -- Illinois. Christ, there was an email from "Jesse" in Colorado mere minutes before I got one from Janna in Batavia, and they had the SAME. EXACT. HEADER. That's some fucking coinkydink, wouldn't you say? So, maybe "Jesse" did exist, and all his friends and family exist, and maybe they all live in Batavia, Illinois. Peyton Place, watch the fuck out, you've got some seriousass competition. But hey, maybe you're right. Maybe "Jesse" just wanted to be shut of me. I guess some folks just don't know how to say goodbye.
Back to the matter at hand. Those armchair analysts.
What I really find astonishing is how many people seem to believe the article is accurate, and whether or not they criticize me for being either stupid, in denial, delusional, or all of the above, they seem to think that I enjoy playing the victim, that I'm getting off on this because of this blog, because I'm outlining what Janna St. James did to me in detail (i.e. "airing [my] dirty laundry", as someone out there on the internuts said). Now, let me get this straight, before I put you in Bill O'Reilly's corner. You think I enjoy this? You think I'm not sick to the eyeballs of all this crap? You think I don't have a moment (nay, many moments) every day where I just want to pull this whole fucking shit festival off the interwebs? You rationalize that my damage was negligible, she didn't do that much to me, aside from fuck with my head, screw up my capacity to do my job to my best ability, make me sick with grief for months, and accept thousands of dollars worth of gifts under extremely false pretenses? 'Scuse me, but what's your fucking definition of damage? You think I should just chalk it up to experience, shut the fuck up and slink away and let Janna do what she thinks she does best, give other people not as smart as any of you (no sirreeeeee) headfuck after headfuck, cajole gifts and love out of people until she drops dead, and perhaps beyond, depending on how many people (if any) are part of her coterie?
Who the FUCK are you people? Are you the same people who think if a woman dresses provocatively and gets raped that she was asking for it? So, because I was trusting, because I just assumed that the guy I was talking to on the phone for a year (whose phone number I had), his sister who I also talked to (whose phone number I also had), his many friends, his ex-wife, his child, his therapist, and the bitch Janna, who was real, to add to the confusion, because I believed all that and was taken for a seriousass ride, because I was strafed and humiliated and headfucked to the nth degree, I should at least have the dignity to keep my anger and pain to myself? It's fucknuts like you who keep victims from stepping into the light and shouting at the top of their lungs I AM AS MAD AS HELL AND I'M NOT GOING TO TAKE IT ANYMORE. (apologies to the late Messrs. Chayefsky and Finch)
I will not go gentle into this good night. FUCK no. I don't neeeeed your sympathy. I don't want it. What I do want is for Janna St. James to nip it in the fucking bud, and for any other online scumbags to have second thoughts before running a scam on someone, because some of us will fight back. Janna St. James will find it fucking difficult to pull this shit on anyone else, if I have anything to say about it. Victims should have a voice, and they should goddamned well not be afraid to use it.
It's interesting to read what complete strangers have to say about this: it's real, it's fake, "Jesse" exists but faked his own death and Janna is covering for him (hey, whose soap opera is this?), it's Janna's fault, it's my fault, it's society's fault, it's Josh's fault, it's the internet's fault (I'm sure a tighty righty somewhere will blame Al Gore for this). Whatevs. Opinions are like assholes, remember? Armchair analysts will pontificate till the llamas come home (what's the internet obsession with llamas, anyway? someone please to explain).
I've covered this before, but let's assume "Jesse" is real, some guy friend of Janna's who wanted to extricate himself from this "relationship" we had. Why was he imploring me to get a divorce right up until three days before he croaked? Okay, he's mentally unbalanced, who knows what a bipolar person is likely to do, right? But faking a death? Janna and his "ex-wife" and "friends" and "therapist" and six-year old "SON" all still talking to me for seven months afterward, all pretending "Jesse" is dead? Are they ALL insane? Janna going on a VACATION with me on "Jesse's" birthday and crying real tears in front of me, missing him? Uh, okay, sure. Contributing to a tribute blog for the not-really-dead man in their midst? Janna's coming to LA to visit me? Okay, they're all fucking nuts. But Janna was their frontman, then, by her choice, and even if this is the case it still ain't goddamned acceptable.
And why did "Jesse's" sister "Alice" send me that photo of "Jesse" and "Rhys" that was titled JohnJessicaVista.jpg? John was Janna's deceased husband, Jessica her daughter. "Alice" despised Janna, what the fuck would she be doing with a 25-year-old photo of Janna's first husband and baby? And why did they look EXACTLY like the other pictures I'd seen up to that point of "Jesse" and "Rhys?" (I dunno, but I'll bet Janna will have a faaaabulous explanation for that!) So let's go with Janna's future explanation about how she allowed "Jesse" to use photos of her dead husband and pretend they were him, and that she and "Alice" are really thick as thieves, or that she was at "Jesse's" ranch and left that photo in their scanner. Let's instead turn to things that cain't lie. Technology. Funny what looking at the headers of the eleventy-billion emails turned up when I had geeks who could interpret all of that for me. Amazing that emails from "Jesse's" friend "Pavlo" in Argentina, his brother "Aidan" (I am getting SO fucking tired of quotation marks) in goddamned Africa, his sister "Branna" in Eire, emails from "Jesse" in Paki-fucking-stan, all bounced from IP addresses originating in -- say it with me, kiddies -- Illinois. Christ, there was an email from "Jesse" in Colorado mere minutes before I got one from Janna in Batavia, and they had the SAME. EXACT. HEADER. That's some fucking coinkydink, wouldn't you say? So, maybe "Jesse" did exist, and all his friends and family exist, and maybe they all live in Batavia, Illinois. Peyton Place, watch the fuck out, you've got some seriousass competition. But hey, maybe you're right. Maybe "Jesse" just wanted to be shut of me. I guess some folks just don't know how to say goodbye.
Back to the matter at hand. Those armchair analysts.
What I really find astonishing is how many people seem to believe the article is accurate, and whether or not they criticize me for being either stupid, in denial, delusional, or all of the above, they seem to think that I enjoy playing the victim, that I'm getting off on this because of this blog, because I'm outlining what Janna St. James did to me in detail (i.e. "airing [my] dirty laundry", as someone out there on the internuts said). Now, let me get this straight, before I put you in Bill O'Reilly's corner. You think I enjoy this? You think I'm not sick to the eyeballs of all this crap? You think I don't have a moment (nay, many moments) every day where I just want to pull this whole fucking shit festival off the interwebs? You rationalize that my damage was negligible, she didn't do that much to me, aside from fuck with my head, screw up my capacity to do my job to my best ability, make me sick with grief for months, and accept thousands of dollars worth of gifts under extremely false pretenses? 'Scuse me, but what's your fucking definition of damage? You think I should just chalk it up to experience, shut the fuck up and slink away and let Janna do what she thinks she does best, give other people not as smart as any of you (no sirreeeeee) headfuck after headfuck, cajole gifts and love out of people until she drops dead, and perhaps beyond, depending on how many people (if any) are part of her coterie?
Who the FUCK are you people? Are you the same people who think if a woman dresses provocatively and gets raped that she was asking for it? So, because I was trusting, because I just assumed that the guy I was talking to on the phone for a year (whose phone number I had), his sister who I also talked to (whose phone number I also had), his many friends, his ex-wife, his child, his therapist, and the bitch Janna, who was real, to add to the confusion, because I believed all that and was taken for a seriousass ride, because I was strafed and humiliated and headfucked to the nth degree, I should at least have the dignity to keep my anger and pain to myself? It's fucknuts like you who keep victims from stepping into the light and shouting at the top of their lungs I AM AS MAD AS HELL AND I'M NOT GOING TO TAKE IT ANYMORE. (apologies to the late Messrs. Chayefsky and Finch)
I will not go gentle into this good night. FUCK no. I don't neeeeed your sympathy. I don't want it. What I do want is for Janna St. James to nip it in the fucking bud, and for any other online scumbags to have second thoughts before running a scam on someone, because some of us will fight back. Janna St. James will find it fucking difficult to pull this shit on anyone else, if I have anything to say about it. Victims should have a voice, and they should goddamned well not be afraid to use it.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
well, stomp on frogs and shove a crowbar up my nose
I'll be goddamned. Directed to a place called the Wayback Machine, I did a search for archipelagoarts and found a page from back in 2004. Blow me down, if that ain't a baby photo of "Jesse" top row, third from the left. Same baby as the one on the August 5 entry from "Alice" on the tribute blog, no?
laughing at me, not with me
I am not sure, but hope I've made it clear, that from a more detatched perspective, I'm still able to see the humor in all this, even though I'm the asshole that lots of folks are laughing at. I totally see your point(s).
OMGWTFLLAMAS!!!! indeed. (by the by, the Llama School song by Sifl & Olly is one of my favorites, so that should add to the hilarity)
My point being, when entrenched in the middle of such a duplicitous crazyquilt, it's sometimes hard to see the big picture.
I'd even read The Night Listener years before, and loved it, I was a Maupin fan anyway. And sure, I'd heard of people doing the things that Janna St. James has done on the internet, and even before that, through chain letters. But The Night Listener, well, okay, that was done to a FAMOUS dude. And I'm a fuckin' nobody. I questioned it, hells yeah, talked about it with a few of my skeptical friends, and even not-so-skeptical friends. Mentioned it to "Jesse," who was mortally offended by that, asking WHY would someone do that? To what gain? Indeed.
Plus, I had "Jesse's" cellphone number, and "Alice's." The photos I did see before "Jesse's" death, I didn't spend a huge amount of time perusing them, I was getting dozens and dozens of emails from "Jesse" daily, and IMing when I could. The emails with the photos just got shunted into a folder with the other thousands of emails I got from him. I had a PO box address, sent things to J.J. James in Colorado. Don'tcha need ID to open a PO Box? And since Janna was in Chicago, who was picking up the stuff at the PO Box in Denver? But the main thing was, why would someone fake all that shit? Who has the time for that kind of thing, especially a deception so elaborate, opening a dozen email accounts, mailing things from different cities, wherever "Jesse" happened to be at the time?
This is the other reason I don't believe Janna Saint James is crazy. I find it hard to believe she acted alone. I can't see her flying to Ohio, New Hampshire, Alaska, Australia, to mail things to me. Someone in Spain got the gifts and postcards I mailed to "Jesse's" son, because Janna described the cards and contents of the packages to me. She has one or more accomplices, possibly also obese lonely fiftysomethings with too much time on their hands, perhaps her brother, who I believe might possibly be "Cakey."
Most likely, we'll never know. Most likely, Janna St. James has already snared someone else in her interweb, as Jane goddamned Doe. Most likely, this will all roll over her like water off a duck's back. But maybe not. And I'm willing to risk my good name, which I know is out there, for that maybe, however minuscule it may be.
OMGWTFLLAMAS!!!! indeed. (by the by, the Llama School song by Sifl & Olly is one of my favorites, so that should add to the hilarity)
My point being, when entrenched in the middle of such a duplicitous crazyquilt, it's sometimes hard to see the big picture.
I'd even read The Night Listener years before, and loved it, I was a Maupin fan anyway. And sure, I'd heard of people doing the things that Janna St. James has done on the internet, and even before that, through chain letters. But The Night Listener, well, okay, that was done to a FAMOUS dude. And I'm a fuckin' nobody. I questioned it, hells yeah, talked about it with a few of my skeptical friends, and even not-so-skeptical friends. Mentioned it to "Jesse," who was mortally offended by that, asking WHY would someone do that? To what gain? Indeed.
Plus, I had "Jesse's" cellphone number, and "Alice's." The photos I did see before "Jesse's" death, I didn't spend a huge amount of time perusing them, I was getting dozens and dozens of emails from "Jesse" daily, and IMing when I could. The emails with the photos just got shunted into a folder with the other thousands of emails I got from him. I had a PO box address, sent things to J.J. James in Colorado. Don'tcha need ID to open a PO Box? And since Janna was in Chicago, who was picking up the stuff at the PO Box in Denver? But the main thing was, why would someone fake all that shit? Who has the time for that kind of thing, especially a deception so elaborate, opening a dozen email accounts, mailing things from different cities, wherever "Jesse" happened to be at the time?
This is the other reason I don't believe Janna Saint James is crazy. I find it hard to believe she acted alone. I can't see her flying to Ohio, New Hampshire, Alaska, Australia, to mail things to me. Someone in Spain got the gifts and postcards I mailed to "Jesse's" son, because Janna described the cards and contents of the packages to me. She has one or more accomplices, possibly also obese lonely fiftysomethings with too much time on their hands, perhaps her brother, who I believe might possibly be "Cakey."
Most likely, we'll never know. Most likely, Janna St. James has already snared someone else in her interweb, as Jane goddamned Doe. Most likely, this will all roll over her like water off a duck's back. But maybe not. And I'm willing to risk my good name, which I know is out there, for that maybe, however minuscule it may be.
sorry, "Q"
I don't communicate off-line with people I don't know, especially with free, easily-gettable gmail accounts and a brand-spanking-new Blogger profile. I know how you got the information.
But nobody knows where I am NOW. Nobody knows who I'm with NOW. Nobody knows what I'm doing NOW. And clearly, or you would have emailed me, nobody knows my email address NOW.
I would say that even if that information was out there in the ether, that only someone who had freakish tendencies would trace things as you have, and do what with them, exactly? Since February, Janna has bandied my name about and threatened and bullied me with all kinds of shit under her name, the names of "Jesse's" friends and family, and other random sock puppets. So fucking what? I'm not the one who committed a crime, unless extreme gullibility is a crime. Janna St. James pretended to be more than a dozen people, used the US Mail to commit fraud, milked me for gifts, used other people's photos, and impersonated people who really do exist. I just believed her lies and was a headwreck for nearly two years. In fact, let's say for more than two years, because the aftermath was tres headwreck-y.
Nothing more can be done to me than has already been done. I have nothing to hide, really, and only keep on the downlow now because of Janna's wackadoodle nature. Who I am really doesn't matter, because I'm discovering there are thousands of Audreys out there, most of who allow the Janna St. Jameses of the world to get away with their shit, the way that fine doctor you cite is now. If this all complicates things for Janna Saint James and keeps her from perpetuating fraud on other unsuspecting people, or even just makes it more difficult for her to commit fraud, then as our Fearless Leader says, mission accomplished.
So, again, thanks but no thanks, "Q." If that is your real name.
But nobody knows where I am NOW. Nobody knows who I'm with NOW. Nobody knows what I'm doing NOW. And clearly, or you would have emailed me, nobody knows my email address NOW.
I would say that even if that information was out there in the ether, that only someone who had freakish tendencies would trace things as you have, and do what with them, exactly? Since February, Janna has bandied my name about and threatened and bullied me with all kinds of shit under her name, the names of "Jesse's" friends and family, and other random sock puppets. So fucking what? I'm not the one who committed a crime, unless extreme gullibility is a crime. Janna St. James pretended to be more than a dozen people, used the US Mail to commit fraud, milked me for gifts, used other people's photos, and impersonated people who really do exist. I just believed her lies and was a headwreck for nearly two years. In fact, let's say for more than two years, because the aftermath was tres headwreck-y.
Nothing more can be done to me than has already been done. I have nothing to hide, really, and only keep on the downlow now because of Janna's wackadoodle nature. Who I am really doesn't matter, because I'm discovering there are thousands of Audreys out there, most of who allow the Janna St. Jameses of the world to get away with their shit, the way that fine doctor you cite is now. If this all complicates things for Janna Saint James and keeps her from perpetuating fraud on other unsuspecting people, or even just makes it more difficult for her to commit fraud, then as our Fearless Leader says, mission accomplished.
So, again, thanks but no thanks, "Q." If that is your real name.
thanks for the heads-up, sheila
Looks like Janna's back in action, being both Sifl and Olly, perhaps even Chester too.
Pegasus, heh heh heh heh.
Pegasus, heh heh heh heh.
Friday, October 12, 2007
talk about surreal
It's kind of -- well, fun is probably not the right word -- let's use educational, reading what other people think of the article, and of me.
How could I be so stupid? So gullible? So easily deceived? I ask myself that often. I am not any of those things, usually. Was I lonely? I guess I was, a bit, but any of my friends would tell you I didn't habitually trawl for love-n-stuff on the internets, or ever, really, for that matter. Even Josh would have to admit that. This "Jesse" spooled it out slow-ish, and we started out friends. Yeah, he sounded too good to believe, except for the crazy part, and the PTSD that he got from being traded as a sex toy for four years to pedophile drug dealers by his molesting hippie junkie dad behind his chilly feminist lecturer mother's back. Too good to believe except for the older brother who shot himself the first night Jesse was raped by the dealers, the night his father hooked him on heroin to help him deal with the pain. Big brother couldn't deal with not being able to protect his younger sibling, and so offed hisownself. "Jesse" may have been a journalist/fireman who loved yoga, but he was damaged. Janna had done her homework on me before "Jesse" ever made an appearance, so she knew what would prick up my ears (fnar).
Janna made a slurry of fact and fiction, hard to tell even now through the sludge how much of it had actually happened to her. I thought for sure that even though Annie Martel might not have been "Jesse's" therapist, that she must have at least known Janna from back in the John Denver days, because Janna had so many stories about them. I spoke to "Jesse" on the phone often, but he was always whispery and hoarse, because he was shy and didn't talk much in his 3D life, so his vocal cords were weak, but jesus, could he write. Now, I'm sure we all know people like that, folks who come alive in type but are pretty inept in person. "Jesse" and his family had been exposed to an internet freak who'd been stalking Janna trying to get close to Dan Fogelberg, and had gone as far as to impersonate her on the Dan Fogelberg boards and to telephone her home to freak out her daughter. "Jesse's" sister made him promise never to expose them to people like that again, so he (and Janna) were very leery of giving out any personal details to people they didn't really know. These are some of the backstories I was given, Janna covering her ass.
It would take pages and pages to explain how I got sucked in (operative word with my 20:20 hindsight being suck, of course) for as long as I did, but here are the main points in a nutshell. I was committed to a project with 100-hour workweeks for the entire year I knew "Jesse." I did try to fly to Denver early on in the "relationship" to see him, but his dog Wrinkle had just died, his grandmother was conveniently dying, and it would have been inappropriate for me to be there during such a tense time for the family. I had bought a plane ticket and was on my way to the airport when "Jesse" called and implored me not to come to Denver. He wanted our first meeting to be perfect, he was beset by anxiety, blah blah blah. We made other plans, but then of course after a weird buildup over several weeks, he shot himself and then was in a psychiatric hospital where only family and his therapist could visit. Then, of course, I couldn't cope with "Jesse's" nuttiness (he'd been diagnosed as bipolar) and we stopped talking for a while, although I was still communicating with Janna, because we'd become friendly.
Confused yet? Bored? Sorry. It's so convoluted.
We picked up again and made other plans, which were scuppered because "Jesse's" mother revealed that his father wasn't really his father, so the fact that he'd been molested by this man as a child wasn't so bad because it wasn't incest. "Jesse" then had to go on a quest for his real father, who was Irish, and a repressed Catholic, and gay, and repenting for sinning against the Scriptures (for fathering a child with a woman whose husband it was he really wanted to have sex with, being a hypocrite and marrying and fathering two more children, and of course the gay thing) by doing charity work for Concern in war- and disaster-torn nations worldwide. So "Jesse" went to Pakistan against his sister's orders, and she, being his legal guardian (since he'd OD'd after 9/11, but hey, that's another story) went to the courts so they would send authorities to pick him up at the airport when he came back and commit him for flagrantly disobeying her. There went that weekend we were supposed to meet in Laguna Beach. It was hardly ever "Jesse" canceling things, it was circumstances.
And "Jesse's" real father's name? Davian Blaine. Yes, dear readers, I know. But I was already in so deep there was no way I suspected "Jesse" wasn't real, as outlandish as that all sounded. I'd been having email conversations with other friends of his, his ex-wife and other friends of his had posted on his blog, I'd seen pictures of his friends and ex-wife and son, his sister's house and his llamas. Which, of course, turned out to be Dan Fogelberg's house and llamas.
I finished my taxing job after a year, prepared to make a move so we could try each other on. And then, well, "Jesse" died. And Janna was utterly lovely to me. Of course, most of "Jesse's" other friends were quite horrible to me, because they never understood why he was interested in me in the first place, and constantly criticized me for not making more of an effort to be with him. But Janna was always a comfort, telling me stories, and encouraging me to set up the tribute blog. I was emailing with "Jesse's" son, who was going to spend time in Spain. I had an address. I was emailing with "Jesse's" ex-wife and his best friend Cakey. And Annie Martel, "Jesse's" therapist. I met Janna, and she was real, we spent a few days together driving around Colorado and New Mexico, while she showed me some of "Jesse's" favorite places. She cried real tears when talking with me about "Jesse" on his birthday. I saw them. Seven months passed between "Jesse's" death and Janna's visit to my house, and the now much-viewed confrontation.
Now, I've known people with strangeass names, and for the offspring of hippie parents, Jesse Jubilee James isn't totally off the wall. His other siblings had stupid names too. And hey, should Sandra Bullock be worried because she's married to some guy called Jesse James? [editor's hindsight note: why yes, yes, Sandra should] I've met Moon Unit Zappa, for fuck's sake. So, that really didn't raise any alarms, 'specially since "Jesse" was pretty goddamned embarrassed about it, the way any real person with fucked parents would be. I've known people who seem to be disaster magnets - I lived with a girl called Laura, and another called Tammy back in the 80s who were precisely that, so that was believable also. The weird life, well, shit, I've had a weird life, which I will not go into here, but suffice it to say that rather than raising any alarms, someone else with a weirder life just made me feel more like a kindred spirit.
And if that shit ain't weird enough, tell me, we have Harlan Ellison, a man whose Love Ain't Nothing But Sex Misspelled was read by me at the tender age of ten, snatched off my mom's bookshelf, which made me a fan fo-evah. Harlan Ellison, the man who bound me to the incredibly talented, funny-as-shit, far-too-opinionated, love-you-till-it-hurts, Macaulay-Culkin-lookalike Joshua Olson. Harlan Ellison, whose books I've toted around the world more than once and now fill two boxes stashed downstairs till I build my bookcase. Harlan Ellison, who has been the significant influence on me for more than three decades, whose work I still quote chapter and verse anytime the situation deems it necessary, which is quite often.
Harlan Ellison, THAT Harlan Ellison, is the fella that breaks it to me about Jesse Jubilee James. Harlan. Ellison. For fuck's sake. Now who has the weird life? Who's surreal now?
So, I can't say I blame anyone who thinks that Josh's article is a piece of internet trickery, or that this blog and the video is all part of the hoax. Would that I was as skeptical two-and-a-half years ago.
But it ain't. It was real. Horribly real.
And so I ask myself again, How could I be so stupid? So gullible? So easily deceived?
It wasn't that easy. But I have no answers for the rest of it.
How could I be so stupid? So gullible? So easily deceived? I ask myself that often. I am not any of those things, usually. Was I lonely? I guess I was, a bit, but any of my friends would tell you I didn't habitually trawl for love-n-stuff on the internets, or ever, really, for that matter. Even Josh would have to admit that. This "Jesse" spooled it out slow-ish, and we started out friends. Yeah, he sounded too good to believe, except for the crazy part, and the PTSD that he got from being traded as a sex toy for four years to pedophile drug dealers by his molesting hippie junkie dad behind his chilly feminist lecturer mother's back. Too good to believe except for the older brother who shot himself the first night Jesse was raped by the dealers, the night his father hooked him on heroin to help him deal with the pain. Big brother couldn't deal with not being able to protect his younger sibling, and so offed hisownself. "Jesse" may have been a journalist/fireman who loved yoga, but he was damaged. Janna had done her homework on me before "Jesse" ever made an appearance, so she knew what would prick up my ears (fnar).
Janna made a slurry of fact and fiction, hard to tell even now through the sludge how much of it had actually happened to her. I thought for sure that even though Annie Martel might not have been "Jesse's" therapist, that she must have at least known Janna from back in the John Denver days, because Janna had so many stories about them. I spoke to "Jesse" on the phone often, but he was always whispery and hoarse, because he was shy and didn't talk much in his 3D life, so his vocal cords were weak, but jesus, could he write. Now, I'm sure we all know people like that, folks who come alive in type but are pretty inept in person. "Jesse" and his family had been exposed to an internet freak who'd been stalking Janna trying to get close to Dan Fogelberg, and had gone as far as to impersonate her on the Dan Fogelberg boards and to telephone her home to freak out her daughter. "Jesse's" sister made him promise never to expose them to people like that again, so he (and Janna) were very leery of giving out any personal details to people they didn't really know. These are some of the backstories I was given, Janna covering her ass.
It would take pages and pages to explain how I got sucked in (operative word with my 20:20 hindsight being suck, of course) for as long as I did, but here are the main points in a nutshell. I was committed to a project with 100-hour workweeks for the entire year I knew "Jesse." I did try to fly to Denver early on in the "relationship" to see him, but his dog Wrinkle had just died, his grandmother was conveniently dying, and it would have been inappropriate for me to be there during such a tense time for the family. I had bought a plane ticket and was on my way to the airport when "Jesse" called and implored me not to come to Denver. He wanted our first meeting to be perfect, he was beset by anxiety, blah blah blah. We made other plans, but then of course after a weird buildup over several weeks, he shot himself and then was in a psychiatric hospital where only family and his therapist could visit. Then, of course, I couldn't cope with "Jesse's" nuttiness (he'd been diagnosed as bipolar) and we stopped talking for a while, although I was still communicating with Janna, because we'd become friendly.
Confused yet? Bored? Sorry. It's so convoluted.
We picked up again and made other plans, which were scuppered because "Jesse's" mother revealed that his father wasn't really his father, so the fact that he'd been molested by this man as a child wasn't so bad because it wasn't incest. "Jesse" then had to go on a quest for his real father, who was Irish, and a repressed Catholic, and gay, and repenting for sinning against the Scriptures (for fathering a child with a woman whose husband it was he really wanted to have sex with, being a hypocrite and marrying and fathering two more children, and of course the gay thing) by doing charity work for Concern in war- and disaster-torn nations worldwide. So "Jesse" went to Pakistan against his sister's orders, and she, being his legal guardian (since he'd OD'd after 9/11, but hey, that's another story) went to the courts so they would send authorities to pick him up at the airport when he came back and commit him for flagrantly disobeying her. There went that weekend we were supposed to meet in Laguna Beach. It was hardly ever "Jesse" canceling things, it was circumstances.
And "Jesse's" real father's name? Davian Blaine. Yes, dear readers, I know. But I was already in so deep there was no way I suspected "Jesse" wasn't real, as outlandish as that all sounded. I'd been having email conversations with other friends of his, his ex-wife and other friends of his had posted on his blog, I'd seen pictures of his friends and ex-wife and son, his sister's house and his llamas. Which, of course, turned out to be Dan Fogelberg's house and llamas.
I finished my taxing job after a year, prepared to make a move so we could try each other on. And then, well, "Jesse" died. And Janna was utterly lovely to me. Of course, most of "Jesse's" other friends were quite horrible to me, because they never understood why he was interested in me in the first place, and constantly criticized me for not making more of an effort to be with him. But Janna was always a comfort, telling me stories, and encouraging me to set up the tribute blog. I was emailing with "Jesse's" son, who was going to spend time in Spain. I had an address. I was emailing with "Jesse's" ex-wife and his best friend Cakey. And Annie Martel, "Jesse's" therapist. I met Janna, and she was real, we spent a few days together driving around Colorado and New Mexico, while she showed me some of "Jesse's" favorite places. She cried real tears when talking with me about "Jesse" on his birthday. I saw them. Seven months passed between "Jesse's" death and Janna's visit to my house, and the now much-viewed confrontation.
Now, I've known people with strangeass names, and for the offspring of hippie parents, Jesse Jubilee James isn't totally off the wall. His other siblings had stupid names too. And hey, should Sandra Bullock be worried because she's married to some guy called Jesse James? [editor's hindsight note: why yes, yes, Sandra should] I've met Moon Unit Zappa, for fuck's sake. So, that really didn't raise any alarms, 'specially since "Jesse" was pretty goddamned embarrassed about it, the way any real person with fucked parents would be. I've known people who seem to be disaster magnets - I lived with a girl called Laura, and another called Tammy back in the 80s who were precisely that, so that was believable also. The weird life, well, shit, I've had a weird life, which I will not go into here, but suffice it to say that rather than raising any alarms, someone else with a weirder life just made me feel more like a kindred spirit.
And if that shit ain't weird enough, tell me, we have Harlan Ellison, a man whose Love Ain't Nothing But Sex Misspelled was read by me at the tender age of ten, snatched off my mom's bookshelf, which made me a fan fo-evah. Harlan Ellison, the man who bound me to the incredibly talented, funny-as-shit, far-too-opinionated, love-you-till-it-hurts, Macaulay-Culkin-lookalike Joshua Olson. Harlan Ellison, whose books I've toted around the world more than once and now fill two boxes stashed downstairs till I build my bookcase. Harlan Ellison, who has been the significant influence on me for more than three decades, whose work I still quote chapter and verse anytime the situation deems it necessary, which is quite often.
Harlan Ellison, THAT Harlan Ellison, is the fella that breaks it to me about Jesse Jubilee James. Harlan. Ellison. For fuck's sake. Now who has the weird life? Who's surreal now?
So, I can't say I blame anyone who thinks that Josh's article is a piece of internet trickery, or that this blog and the video is all part of the hoax. Would that I was as skeptical two-and-a-half years ago.
But it ain't. It was real. Horribly real.
And so I ask myself again, How could I be so stupid? So gullible? So easily deceived?
It wasn't that easy. But I have no answers for the rest of it.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
uh, hi
...to all you people who are suddenly discovering this blog. I assume you're all somehow here because of the article.
Did all y'all know that Janna St. James was a licensed cosmetologist back in the 80s? I guess that explains the hair.
Did all y'all know that Janna St. James was a licensed cosmetologist back in the 80s? I guess that explains the hair.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
here it is
Well, folks, it's been a long hard slog, huh? Click here to read the article.
I will add my own corrections here, since Josh is a little wrong about some stuff, but that's what happens with journalists, eh?
1. Janna St. James lives in Batavia, which is a suburb of Chicago, I believe. It's also good to know that her married name is Priggie, just in case she starts putting herself forward as Janna Priggie, "friend" of some other celebrity or eligible beefcake out there in interwebsland.
2. Jesse and I did not exchange clothes so we'd know what each other smelled like. Eeeew. I'm strange enough without having to add to it, friends, thankyouverymuch.
3. I'd broken off with the younger man before I was even talking to Jesse again. One had nothing to do with the other.
4. I didn't ask Harlan if I could bring Janna to his house, just the new puppy. Harlan's a lovely man, fabulous writer, and I do believe this could be the first time ever in history that he's wrong about something, but wrong he is.
There're other little tiny hiccups in the article, mostly to do with timeline, and some more things to do with me, but fuckit, it's my life and I have to live with the shit I've done; I've learned to roll with the punches. The important thing is that the facts about Janna Saint James are correct. Copies of the article are on their way to all Chicago-area publications, just in case they would otherwise miss it. Did I mention it's this week's cover story?
I will add my own corrections here, since Josh is a little wrong about some stuff, but that's what happens with journalists, eh?
1. Janna St. James lives in Batavia, which is a suburb of Chicago, I believe. It's also good to know that her married name is Priggie, just in case she starts putting herself forward as Janna Priggie, "friend" of some other celebrity or eligible beefcake out there in interwebsland.
2. Jesse and I did not exchange clothes so we'd know what each other smelled like. Eeeew. I'm strange enough without having to add to it, friends, thankyouverymuch.
3. I'd broken off with the younger man before I was even talking to Jesse again. One had nothing to do with the other.
4. I didn't ask Harlan if I could bring Janna to his house, just the new puppy. Harlan's a lovely man, fabulous writer, and I do believe this could be the first time ever in history that he's wrong about something, but wrong he is.
There're other little tiny hiccups in the article, mostly to do with timeline, and some more things to do with me, but fuckit, it's my life and I have to live with the shit I've done; I've learned to roll with the punches. The important thing is that the facts about Janna Saint James are correct. Copies of the article are on their way to all Chicago-area publications, just in case they would otherwise miss it. Did I mention it's this week's cover story?
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