piece of fakey

commenters

2012-01-19T22:16:00.000-08:00

blukats - that's a very interesting link, I'll be keeping tabs on that story, I'm not publishing your comment because I don't want Janna knowing what it's about, just in case...

Ms. O - absolutely, same address. And I have a feeling I know what photo you're going to be sending me.

to erase any doubt

2012-01-08T11:39:00.000-08:00

Way back in May 2006, when "Jesse" was emerging from his own personal soap-opera-like hell, Janna and her best friend Annie Martel, who had once been "Jesse's" therapist, took him on a Memorial Day vacation to Beaver Island in Lake Michigan. After "Jesse" died, Annie posted this on his tribute blog.

Worth the Wait

My name is Annie and Jesse and I spent some time together figuring things out. I'll have some more things to offer about him once I determine what the boundaries are. I didn't know him like the rest of you did. I knew him in solely a clinical sense until Memorial Day of this year, mere weeks ago. At that time he was tired of talking about himself and his "little miseries," "all the time." So I dropped my guard and headed out into a social situation with Jesse and some friends.

The benefit for me was complete. I saw him as whole person for the first time, not just the sum total of his traumas. Of course I knew he was special, but there were moments that imbedded in me just how exceptional he was outside my office or a hospital room. I watched him entertain dozens of children in a skateboard park while fireworks fell behind them. I ate his delicious cooking. I watched him swim in big water with three horses he'd just met. I've been around horses for 35 years but would have never attempted that. He was a horse whisperer. A dog whisperer. A llama whisperer. A fire whisperer. A child whisperer. A people in general whisperer.

One of the things that struck me the most was the fact I never really saw Jesse smile until that time we spent away from the office. I'd seen his famous wry smile. His famous devilish smile. I'd seen his sad little resolved smile. But never a full, easy, natural grin. Until that time we spent together in "the free world." Then there it was. All over the place. A 1000 watt smile. I chose to capture it with my camera phone. I don't really know how to use my camera phone. It took three people to get the picture from there to here, but here it is. Jesse's full, easy, natural smile. We don't know for sure, but we think it might just be the last image ever taken of him. It's just a bad, dark, grainy dinotechno picture phone photo, butI hope so, because in that instant he was comfortable being Jesse.

Isn't that fucking touching? Brings a tear to your eye.

Here's the other part of that story. One photo amongst several that have been sent to me since Janet Hopper's youthful indiscretions were brought to light.

Holy fuckballs. First of all, did EVERYBODY wear jeans in the 70s? Second, yes. That would be a photo of a twentysomething Janna with her husband John Myrtle. Ain't they cute?

And it's her psychotic attention to detail, the little embellishments like "We don't know for sure, but we think it might just be the last image ever taken of him." I mean, way to pile it on.

Janna's sleazy deception just gets grosser and grosser with each revelation. "[A] bad, dark, grainy dinotechno picture phone photo" equals "low-rez scan of a decades-old Polaroid which is grainy because I cut myself out of a photo with my husband and blew it up to torment an innocent woman for my own personal gain."

Whoops forgot the "while impersonating John Denver's ex-wife on a tribute blog to someone who didn't exist."

Happy New Year!

and a ho ho ho

2011-12-24T13:09:00.000-08:00

Happy holidays to all you folks who've followed this crap and who continue to follow it (even you concern trolls and other assorted douchebags - hey, every family has its dysfunctional assholes, right?). You've made me realize how important it is to speak out.

This past year, we moved from Civil Court to the Supreme Court. Who knows what the next year will bring? There were no reports on any new hijinks brought forth by Janna, but we learned a bit more about ancient ones that she assumed were all forgotten, or at least forgiven. Odd how many of Janna's actions throughout her adult life have been unforgivable, and how many people who were deceived by her are happy to tell me their stories.

It's been a long journey from Janet Hopper to Janna Priggie, but she hasn't traveled very far.

Have a great and safe holiday, readers.

As for Janna, I'll speak for the dozens of women you've tormented over five decades: I hope you get coal in your stocking, and please go fuck yourself.

Paula

yawn

2011-12-14T08:08:00.001-08:00

oh my.

2011-12-02T18:46:00.000-08:00

Janet Hopper Myrtle St. James Priggie
lying her way through life for more than four decades
PS the Bay City Rollers called - they want their haircut back

Janna Priggie: club kid

Quill And Scroll pic
she looks so cheery

the future Janet Myrtle, cub reporter, on the school paper

and...Forensics. Still smiling.

She'd place higher than third now, you betcha.

Ms. O

2011-12-02T06:15:00.000-08:00

Wasn't sure if you wanted me to publish your comment, but HELLS YEAH, I would. Please email me anything you have via the contact link, if you want an address to snail mail something, I can give you that as well. And thanks!

well, that was fast

2011-12-01T00:38:00.000-08:00

News of Janet Hopper's ignoble life must be rushing like wildfire (heh) through the class of 1970. Should make for an interesting high school reunion next go-round!

J. Sterling Morton East High School. Class of '70. I guess it was the companion school to John's. How sickeningly cute is that? Almost like the boy next door scenario. So cute I could throw up.

And, no, nothing about success as a serial liar, but dig her specialties in HS: Art, modern dance, newspaper, library, Russian club, debate club, quill & scroll, and my favorite, forensics, where good ol' Janet placed third for original monologue.

I must get my hands on this yearbook, to flip through this and see the photos will be very interesting indeed.

But for now, let me break down the interests in high school which have featured so largely in her warped backstories for imaginary people and helped her hone her emotional succubus talents.

Art: it's undoubtedly how she's gotten in the door for many of these relationships. I'm sure her knowledge of art helped her form a bond with the ex-Mrs Fogelberg. Modern dance, oh my god, as the "Jesse" persona, she would never SHUT UP about dancing. Russian, another thing she wove into her story. Her mother was apparently Franco-Russian and never could lose her accent, kind of the way Janna could never lose her Fauxstralian/Brit accent. I'd pay good cash money for someone who had video of Janna speaking in her native Chicago accent.

But it's all the writing clubs she belonged to, especially the award for original monologue, that really crack my shit up. Oy, if they only knew then how original her monologue would get. Although it's not terribly original, I suppose - like Judith Krantz, it's the same old shit thrown in the blender and arranged slightly differently on the page for each scam. I'd love to know what her monologue was about. Perhaps I should see if anyone else in the forensics club can recall it.

And debate club?! Suddenly the reason why she's so fucking good at covering her ass, it all comes to light. She trained to be able to argue any point, whether or not she believed it.

Honestly, I'm surprised she wasn't part of an Irish or French club. I guess those obsessions came later.

More soon, I hope, with photos.

1970

2011-11-27T23:26:00.000-08:00

...that's the year that John Myrtle graduated from high school. He went to Morton West high school in Berwyn, IL. Apparently his girlfriend Janet Hopper (aka the future Janna St James Priggie) went to another school in Cicero. Apparently John was a super-nice guy, and Janet was always a lying freak. His friends never understood their relationship, a sweet fella on the track team hanging out with someone even known back then as a serial liar. Even in the late 60s she fancied herself a creative writer. I wonder why that doesn't surprise me.

taken straight from the Morton West 1970 yearbook. John is on the left.

And, a few photos "Jesse's" sister "Alice" sent me of a young "Jesse."

Oh, Janna. What would John say? and what lie of yours was it that split the two of you up?

Anyone out there got a yearbook for Janna's high school? I'd love to see what her extracurricular activities were. Girl Most Likely To Become A Serial Liar?

the real "Jesse"

2011-11-07T09:23:00.000-08:00

John Myrtle.

Those photos of "Jesse" are of John Myrtle, Janna's first husband (it is assumed he was her first, though certainly not her last). Back in the 70s when Jann Janny Janna Saint James St. James Priggie was still plain old Janet Hopper. Even back then she was lying like a rug, in Basalt, Colorado.

It sure is amazing what kind of folks come out of the woodwork. Who knew men read this blog?

Can't wait to hear where the St. James came from. I guess "Jan Myrtle, dogcatcher's wife" didn't have that sophisticated ring to it. Of course her lie about being the widow of a John Denver roadie isn't exactly aiming high, now, is it?

John Myrtle

Well, well, well.

2011-10-31T00:01:00.001-07:00

The plot thickens.

And yeah, thanks for all the comments. I've been busy, but all is well.

Didja hear that this case has been appealed all the way to the Illinois Supreme Court? Sigh.

a little bit about me

2011-05-05T14:58:00.000-07:00

I'm a storyteller. Not as in a writer, although when I was little, I always assumed I'd be a writer when I grew up. I admired them, I always did. Still do. I also assumed I'd marry Jack Lemmon someday, and we can see how well that turned out.

But I've always told stories. Not lies to others, but stories in my head, to myself. I'd see a worm in the rain, and he'd have a name (Fred, after the father I never met who wasn't my father) and a backstory (he was braving the elements to bring back provisions for the wife and little worms but he really wanted to work at a big company like CC Baxter) within a minute. I make up stories for everything - animal, vegetable and mineral. Is it any wonder that Hans Christian Andersen was my read of choice as a child? Still is, did you know I visited his house in Odense? No, you didn't, because you don't know anything about me.

I become immersed in good art the same way. I can see what the artist had in mind, I'm inside that hot, dusty room, hearing the dull sound of the tools in Caillebotte's The Floor Scrapers. I can smell the tang of the suddenly exposed wood. And the sweat.

Good movies and television can also wreck my head, because I embellish - I finish the filmmaker's sentences. I see where they're going, or maybe it's just where I'm going. I started weeping during the first five minutes of Amelie because the way Jeunet writes the beginning, telling people's life stories in less than a minute, that's the way I think most of the time.

In my face-to-face dealings, say a job interview or even just meeting someone new, I still go through dozens of different scenarios in my head, working out the different ways a conversation might go, to prepare myself for any eventuality. I analyze everything, and most of the time I believe in Occam's Razor: the simpler answer is often correct.

This works evidently in my disfavor also, in the case of "Jesse Jubilee James." The TV show Deadwood sucked me in, the density of the story, and how beautifully it was shot and acted. I wanted to talk about it with others. And then I met "Jesse." Who had a story, quite a strange one, but I've known real people with stranger stories. And stranger names. (No llamas, though.)

Why am I a storyteller? What made me like this? Who knows? I'm an only child - lots of only children have to spend a lot of time entertaining themselves. I had bad shit happen to me as a child, lots of upheaval, maybe that's one of the ways I dealt with it, and now it's just a part of who I am. My therapist says I have excellent coping tools, perhaps because they never stay in the shed long enough to rust.

Don't get me wrong, I have a great life, an awesome life. I'm not a sad sack who generally sits around moping about what Janna did to me. I deal with the aftershocks of Janna the way I dealt with the aftershocks of the rest of my life. The difference with Janna is that most of the other bad shit was accidental or exceedingly brief. They were short sharp shocks.

What Janna did to me was intentional and orchestrated to hurt me, over a long period of time when she was aware I was fragile. Who invents a purported love of someone's life and then has them DIE? Janna could have closed up shop anytime she wanted. All I had for "Jesse" was a cellphone number and PO Box address. She could have disappeared at any time, or said "hey, y'know, I found a nice local girl to date." I would have chalked it up to disinterest and forgotten about it. But she milked this, she fed off my grief with the personas of more than a dozen people. She watched me get sick and, impersonating "Jesse's" doctor friend, diagnosed me. (don't worry, it was a weekend when I couldn't see my regular doctor, and I did see him right away that Monday, I'm not that stupid). She could have not given me an address, or accepted any of the gifts I sent, or at the very least, not encouraged me.

It's the malice aforethought I have problems with. I was on that message board for a year before Janna showed up. She watched me, she learned things about me, and then she struck.

And yes, perhaps Janna and I are two sides of the same coin, perhaps that's how I fell for her scam - by being the kind of person who fills in the blanks, and for trusting that since every other individual I'd actually met in person from this message board had proved to be real, that "Jesse" would be too. And because, who does that? The other women that Janna scammed, I think they're all storytellers too. I think she chooses us for that reason. It makes her job easier.

Janna's a storyteller, too, but she uses her talent to take things from others under false pretenses. Doesn't that deserve punishment?

I've tried to be patient here, I really have. I've answered many questions over the past several weeks. Because it doesn't seem to be letting up and I'd like to continue to remain a non-sad sack, I'm going to step away from this for a bit. Rest assured, I'll be back at some point, and I'll try to answer your questions in a civil manner.

If something interesting happens with the case, I'll update, of course.

wherein the "moar llamas" people get their wish

2011-05-02T23:10:00.000-07:00

Yes, this is about llamas. And other stuff.

Oddly, there are people out there seriously weighing in about the llama thing - like how could I believe that "Jesse" was a llama rancher? Don't I know how time-consuming llama ranching is? And he was an EMT? And a volunteer fireman? And a journalist?

First - I'm a city mouse, born and raised in cities all my life. What the fuck do I know from llamas? No idea what it takes to take care of a llama. "Jesse" had I think four llamas (hey a four-L llama! [sorry, old fire engine limerick memory jog]), the photo is archived and I can't be arsed to dig it out. The llamas were used more as pets/sometime work animals than for whatever it is llamas are used for when they're ranched.

Second - "Jesse" was mostly an EMT when we first met, and he wasn't in a big city, but a long way outside one (part of the reason he said he had a PO Box in Denver, since he only had some sort of rural route address - again, I know nothing of living in the sticks [ha! Styx!]). Point being, there weren't too many accidents, so "Jesse" wasn't that busy as an EMT. He then accepted a proper job with the US gov. fire service, but quit because it WAS too much for him. He was more an ex-journalist than a current journalist, although he'd do stringer or research work now and then for someone else's byline.

Third - most of the time I knew him, "Jesse" didn't work much because he was either recovering from his suicide attempt (which occurred prior to his bipolar diagnosis), or spending time in a psychiatric facility voluntarily so his sister (who was his guardian) couldn't commit him. Of course, during the brief interlude when we didn't speak, from October - December 2005, it turned out that "Jesse" visited Los Angeles to work on a story, but he didn't get in touch because he thought he'd be bothering me.

Jesus, it sounds nuts just typing it. But, like I said, I don't know from any of these professions except journalism, and "Jesse" was convincing enough about that, so why wouldn't I take him at his word about the others, especially since other friends of his (including Janna) corroborated the story?

I should do a timeline, but hell, I'm too tired for that crap now. Hope that was llama-y enough for you odd people!

a little bit about Janna

2011-05-02T10:37:00.000-07:00

Because this does bug me a bit, I'd like to clear something up that one of the LJ people has assumed. Some folks didn't like that I mentioned Janna's weight here. But what you all need to understand about Janna is that nobody hated on fat people more than Janna St James. As her alter egos, "Bean" and "Alice" amongst them, she would say hateful, scathing things about herself, all to do with her weight.

As some of her other alter egos, she'd talk about how beautiful and skinny and wonderful she was till those nasty Mexicans raped and nearly killed her in a cornfield. Janna would say to me as herself that she weighed 112 all her life until that rape, and she gained all that weight because she was in a hospital bed recovering from many plastic surgeries and operations and now she only had a single lung so it was hard for her to exercise blah blah blah.

Janna told me that she tried Weight Watchers, but they didn't like her because she wasn't born a fatty, that she had no respect for them because they were fat by choice and not by misadventure like she was. Not once did I care about Janna's weight, although I was sympathetic that she was upset about it. When I met her, I confess I was a little taken aback at her size, but only because I was trying to work out in my head how someone could go from 112 to 250 over a ten year period, especially when several of those years was spent eating hospital food, and some of that time her jaw had been reconstructed and she could only have liquid nutrition.

Of course, when I found out that all of her backstory was a lie, there was never a rape, never any sort of hospital convalescence, and she was obese for her entire adult life, I realized that she was completely obsessed with her own weight. Yes, my comment was mean, it was meant to be, but please understand it was meant to tweak her because of this history.

I can't speak for Josh's motivations in taking that angle, since he has never discussed his article with me at any length whatsoever. But for the record, yes, he is kind of an asshole, and everything is about him.

needs moar llamas*

2011-04-29T22:22:00.000-07:00

Okay. I have to say, over the past however-many-years it's been (six, did I mention?) probably my favorite reaction to this entire awful debacle, and one that pulls me out of the funk I find myself in when I've been reading lots of holier-than-thou comments from people who think they're smarter than me, is the exercise in FTW-ness that is Fandom Wank.

The sheer delight that these (what do I call you? "Wankers" just seems so wrong!) people take in the utterly ludicrous aspects of this story (and believe me, I'm fully aware of how much ludicrousness there is) is hysterical beyond belief. There's no anger, no judging, no finding lulz in how Janna pwned me. Just seeing the ridiculousness and rolling in it. They've just gone full throttle with the llamas. It's awesome. And just what I needed tonight. You have no idea. So, thanks, FW-ers.

P.S. Never mind John Fogerty, how can we set Harlan Ellison up with a bunch of llamas?

*via xturtle

uh, hi there, Reddit people

2011-04-26T14:51:00.000-07:00

You guys are cracking me up.

A few things:

1. keep in mind that six* years ago Skype was being used for work conference calls and that was about it. No computers with built in cameras. I had an iSight for my Mac, but "Jesse" had a work laptop with no camera. MySpace was on my radar during the tail end of this stupid saga, but not Facebook. The internetz was not as sophisticated as it is now, you doggone kids. I'll bet most of you were still in high school when "Jesse" first contacted me six* years ago.

2. "butthurt weenus" is the funniest phrase I've heard this year. So thanks for that.

3. Janna managed to do this to people she knew BEFORE the internet. Face to face. "Hey, I have a friend you'd really like - you should be penpals!" Bitch is ballsy. She's been deceiving people, in person and then online, for thirty years. THIRTY YEARS. At least eight people that I've spoken with personally, not counting anyone involved in the "Jesse" deception.

4. Janna's description of herself on her blog was only added after my friends exposed her. Doy. Give me a little credit.

5. I'd be happy to do an AMA, but I think this blog probably answers all your questions.

EDITED TO ADD:

6. Yeah, the money thing. I was surprised it added up to $10k, but when you're buying little gifts for someone, and also Christmas gifts for their friends and family, over the course of a year and a half, that shit adds up. That amount, though, also includes a plane ticket I never got to use because "Jesse" was indisposed when I was going to use it, as well as hefty cancellation fees for a hotel I booked that I was going to be meeting "Jesse" at. But seriously, you people who are getting lulz out of this. Read this shit before you judge, okay? All I ask.

* edited because I realize it was six (holy fuckballs!) years ago. Not five. Sigh.

update

2011-03-19T23:29:00.000-07:00

So the appeals court reversed the trial court's dismissal of the fraud case against Jann Janny Janna Hopper St. James Saint James Priggie, so now we start discovery. Apparently they found Janna's defense of "I can't be accused of fraud because I knew I was lying" a mite hard to swallow.

See you in court, Janna.

well

2011-02-09T20:42:00.000-08:00

I just watched Catfish, and feel like projectile vomiting.

Sorry if I'm gonna throw out any spoilers, but the woman in this movie is a rank amateur compared to Janna. If someone had called Janna out early in her fucked-up career, though, maybe she would've stopped too. Assuming this one will stop - but a lot of why they do this is attention-seeking, so now that she's getting attention as herself because of the movie, that'll maybe feed her sickness.

My point is, if you find yourself the victim of this kind of scam, it is imperative that you do what you can to expose this sick shit, for yourself and potential future victims, but also to better stop the scammer from honing their tools of deception.

Happy new year.

Brrrrr.

2010-11-26T12:58:00.000-08:00

Thanks to, uh, Anonymous. Happy Thanksgiving!

family tree

2010-11-01T01:30:00.000-07:00

So, because a few people have asked, and since I already had this cobbled together for my lawsuit, I thought this might help clear up some confusion as to who was who in the great Janna clusterfuck of bullshit.

I marked in red the characters Janna produced photos for, and if they've been confirmed as other people, I've put that in also. This is a tad out of date, I've learned a lot more about Janna's real life as well as getting more feedback on photos since I put this together several years ago, but I'm sure as hell not going to be spending time updating. You get my drift. The purple star is to indicate the people in "Jesse's" circle that I had some communication with, either by direct phone or email contact, or by their posting on one blog or another of "Jesse's" or on the post-death tribute blog. There are a shit-ton of other players in this charade, firemen cohorts and other local residents who were friends and acquaintances of "Jesse's" and suchlike, but these folks outlined here were the regulars in this little soap opera, who were either continually mentioned by "Jesse" and Janna, or that were active participants, speaking up for "themselves." I'm so tired of quotation marks.

The little cluster of green you see down on the bottom, well, that's the true bit, ie the biographical details and photos that Janna produced about her own family were actually the people she said they were. Except for her daughter having dated "Jesse," of course. and probably a lot of other stuff, but you see how it became all snarled together into one quasi-truth.

You can click on this and see it in all its gory up-closeness. It's a big image, but it has to be to make it readable. Just warning you.

uh. hi.

2010-09-22T00:20:00.000-07:00

A brief update. Still snarled in the wheels of the legal system, the appeals court is reviewing our brief and we're waiting to schedule oral argument.

A lot of visits, and comments. Hi, all y'all. Who knew Catfish would bounce back here? A few words about Catfish - no, I haven't seen it, but I can pretty much figure how it ends. I've heard a bit of questioning as to whether or not this movie is really a documentary, I doubt very much it was based on my story. It doesn't have to be. Shit like this happens all the time, and it's not just career con artists like Janna Janny Janna Hopper St James Priggie. The internet's unleashed a whole mess of criminal behavior, and the legal system is still catching up in terms of how to prosecute. Luckily, my lawyer is well-versed in internet law, but there are still precedents to be set. Point is, a lot of lonely shut-ins have found a new way of making friends, by making themselves sound more interesting than they really are, and by stirring up drama. It's too easy now.

So, maybe Catfish is real, maybe it's not, but the lesson to be learned is still the same. Don't trust them till you meet them in the flesh, and even then, be wary.

P.S. Donna, please get in touch with me (email is clickable on my profile) if you want me to direct you to some people who might be able to help you.

I believe it

2010-08-10T00:13:00.000-07:00

truth

2010-08-07T17:06:00.000-07:00

yawn

2010-06-17T22:50:00.000-07:00

So, Janna's lawyer has bowed out of the case, and she's got a new person who needs to get up to speed. More delays.

But I want to address something else entirely, or at least as part of a bigger picture.

I had another blog before this one, the one where I rhapsodized about "Jesse" and all the rest of that happy crappy. I had photos in that blog linked to my own personal server, and a few weeks after Jann Hopper St James was kicked out of my house, I got a notice from my provider that there had been some suspicious activity going on with my files, especially a section I had uploaded for potential legal action against Janna, called "evidence," with screen grabs and photos. Ew. So I closed it all down in March 2007 - website and blog, because that creeped me out.

A little backstory before I continue : my friend Sarah and I had decided at the end of 2006 to start a company which we decided to name after my dog. Of course, I had to reserve the domain name right away, even though we weren't anywhere near ready to use it. I hadn't even thought about it since Christmas.

Imagine my surprise at, not 24 hours after closing down my other blog and domain, receiving an email from this provider letting me know we'd just had a sudden huge spike in visits (like, as in from flatline zero to hit after hit after hit), and that, again, the activity seemed suspicious, with several whois searches as well as many unsuccessful file name searches. Really? I asked Sarah if she'd been checking out our domain, absolutely not, she'd completely forgotten that I'd even reserved it. So...the only other person on the PLANET that knew the name of our domain? Janna Saint James, because I told her about it over the holidays, before her duplicity was exposed to me. And sho'nuff, seeing the "Jesse"-related search terms was enough to creep me the fuck out. So, clearly, Janna was still monitoring my blog, and had wrongly assumed that I'd moved my photos to my other domain.

A month later, I was still paranoid about Janna's deception, because she was still, y'know, maintaining that "Jesse" was real and I'd received a postcard from "Aidan" and a package from "Krista" from fucking AUSTRALIA. I contacted the post office in Australia, asking them if they could pull the slip and tell me who the sender of the package was since I wasn't expecting any packages from there. They said they couldn't do that, but that they'd get in touch with the sender and it was then up to them to get in touch with me. Well, a very nice chap sent me an email a day or so later - turns out he works at one of those mail forwarding places - this one, in fact. Riiiiiight. He gave me an address for "Krista" in White Plains, NY (that turned out to be the White Plains Mall). He even remembered what was in the package. Bravo, Janna! Too bad I decided to investigate. P.S. have a look at the testimonials page for a good little snicker. "Aidan B" in Illinois left feedback the exact same week I got the postcard.

So...after all that, I started a private blog to keep my real friends advised as to my whereabouts, as well as where my head was at. But...I decided to do a test and not let my friends know about it for a week or so, just to see if Janna would try to find me, even though there was no link to the blog from my profile. I did know there were other ways to find blogs that weren't password-protected, and since Janna's poking around my other sites clearly established to me that she was way way way more computer-conversant than she claimed (and still claims) to be, I decided to see how savvy she really was.

It took a day and a half for her to find me. My blog tracker told me that, and then she posted something on her blog, asserting that one of my concerned friends had contacted her with my blog address because they were worried about my state of mind, or somesuch horseshit. Wow, what a headfuck! Imagine if I HAD told my friends, that would've just twisted me up in knots, making me suspicious of each and every one of them, would've made me question my own sanity. That's how she operates, and that's what she was counting on.

I bring this all up because to this day, she tries to tweak me. That's okay, because it hasn't worked a whit since early 2007 - well, it at least hasn't made me feel paranoid and crazy, like maybe "Jesse" really DOES exist etc. etc. It still irritates the crap out of me, though, but I don't think that's the effect she's trying to have. And in fact, the irritation is more and more mingled with boredom of late, like reading all the books in Barbara Cartland's oeuvre, and yawningly realizing that book number 101 is just like book number 1, except perhaps just that little bit more ridiculous.

So I hope Janna Saint James Priggie is happy with her new lawyer, because she's going to be seeing an awful lot of her over the next couple of years. And since the tweaks don't really tweak much anymore, I guess it's a win-win situation.

PS It's amazing how much all my vintage clothing and household items have accrued in value since I started collecting it almost two decades ago. I could go on for years.

2010-04-10T00:51:00.000-07:00

Occam's razor

2010-04-03T12:39:00.000-07:00

Look it up.

This is it from me for a while.

See you in court.

Uh...

2010-04-03T10:57:00.000-07:00

Janna...who the hell are you talking to? Martha Stewart? You do realize that it's easy to check to see if anyone's talking to you on Twitter, and nobody's asking you any of the questions you're pretending to answer.

Oh, by the way, I've seen a more recent photo of you, and you're right, you've probably lost about what, 50 or 60 pounds? Only another 100 to go till you're back to your original weight before that tragic rape in the cornfield. Too bad you're still ugly on the inside.

P.S.

2010-04-03T00:34:00.000-07:00

A little snippet from a contest blog, about a month ago.

You "haven't made a pendant in forever." Besides for this contest, and of course the ones you keep getting positive feedback for on Etsy. Don't lie if there's incontrovertible evidence to the contrary. Janet.

it ain't over till the fat lady tweets

2010-04-02T23:12:00.000-07:00

Janna -

You are a creative typist as opposed to a writer because you use the same situations, the same stories, the same bullshit, over and over. So, get it: the first Judith Krantz book might elicit an emotional response from a novice reader, but upon reading successive books, it becomes quite clear that her talents are VERY limited. Self-plagiarization taken to extremes, formulaic twaddle, and the boldness to make the story incredibly outlandish and convoluted.

So yeah, you may have a hook, but you're a hack. The Brian De Palma of con artists.

(and since you know how much cinema means to me, you know that's a fuckin' insult)

I know you write for you. I'm sure you get off on every person that responds "oh, your story touched my heart and made me cry."

Next time you're in "mixed company," why don't you try this one out: "I'm a sad, fat, twisted old lady with limited talents and an unhealthy obsession with child molestation, who spends her time in internet chatrooms pretending I'm a woman and/or man with a dead son and/or boyfriend." Let's see who laughs at that, especially if Barbara, David, Bill, Marie, Jan, Jenny, Jessica and Dan are in the room.

and another thing

2010-04-02T01:36:00.001-07:00

...you wanna get into this, Janna?

Lookit what folks stumbled upon.

Second one down. Four days before you posted the exact same thing on your own Twitter account. Don't bother deleting it, it's already been saved for posterity. Duh.

You wanna know what else folks found? You wanna see more?

If not, then G.O. A.W.A.Y. You lost this one.

P.S. Congratulations on the uni-chin, if you're not lying about that too. What're you down to now, have you hit the 200 lb mark yet? And clearly whatever ails you ain't keeping you from using Twitter an awful lot to make a half-assed attempt to defend yourself, so duping people on the Johnny Weir board and Twitter and Facebook with your sad sack story is just child's play to you (just cut and paste and change the name from Dan to Jesse to Denali). And you're still making/selling your art glass trinkets on Etsy, as ArchipelagoArts and janarchy, hell, you're even entering contests on blogs for people to win your fucking trinkets, so, you can't be that blind.

You're losing it, chica. Call a waaaaahmbulance.

P.S. When you talk about "your" tweets, you might want to double check that it was "Janet Wilder" and not the REAL you who said something before you assert that the real you would never say that. The Christopher Walken comment, f'rinstance. QED. You can't even keep your selves straight. Dipshit.

P.P.S. The point of you pretending to be someone else is that "they" can do things that you cannot. Like just about anything, so of course all the things they say they do you cannot do. Bein' my point.

P.P.P.S. Didn't even realize you had a Twitter account in your real name till just an hour ago, though. It probably only popped up on Google search now because you're posting like fuck.

Addendum

2010-04-01T22:15:00.001-07:00

So, this has brought some people out of the woodwork, and I'm happy about that, and some conversations have brought up some extra stuff.

1. I think we need a name, all us people who were conned by Janet Wilder -- sorry -- Janna Hopper St. James Saint James Priggie. Nothing with her name in it, nor anything to do with Irish llama musicians. I was thinking that we're sort of shaping up as the Moriarty to Janna's Schlock Homes, so maybe that.

2. From my conversations with, you know, us up there, the Moriartys, a constant of Janna's big bamboozle is to store up every personal revelation from her target for future ammunition to embarrass and belittle and demean them. She's like a fucking elephant. And it doesn't matter how many years have gone by, she'll drag out that drunken admission by you that you used to think Don Johnson was hot, that you sing Celine Dion songs in the shower, or that you wouldn't kick John Boehner out of bed. But it's funny what pops up about Janna when we converse. So, Janna, you'd better chill, or I might divulge some stuff you don't want people to know about you, your family and the few women that you've managed to keep as your friends all these years, as well as what you really think of them.

And think on this, too: I'm smarter than you. I know stuff about you you don't know I know. Picture a couple dozen angry women who are also smarter than you. I'll give credit where credit is due - you know how to pick 'em, you've got good taste in dupes. I like every single person whose path you crossed, they're intellectuals, and funny! But mostly smart. And happy to contribute to the cause of making it as difficult for you to do this to anyone else again.

So next time you're talking to someone online, when you're sizing them up to see if you can work your sick magic on them, you'd better ask yourself: does this person already know who I am? Because, we might, "janarchy" - kiss kiss.

3. One of the people who reached out to me here was a woman who was a Deadwood board lurker, who'd been following "Jesse's" blog. She contacted me after his "death" from "liver cancer," because she had been fighting her own constant battle with cancer herself. Her name was Kelly, and she gave me the link to her blog. We chatted a bit, and became friendly, keeping in touch every month or so. After the Janna debacle, because I was damaged and paranoid, I found it difficult to trust Kelly, but I'd pop in now and again to read her posts and to comment, but forced myself to be detached. She understood. Well, she's dead now. For realz. Her family posted after and like a normal dead person, there were actual obituaries and a place to send notes and flowers. It's sad that I blew what could have been a good friendship with a funny woman who looked her illness in the eye and managed to still see joy and beauty in the world. And I'm sorry she's gone.

gotcha

2010-03-30T21:47:00.000-07:00

So, about once a month, I get an email, or someone posts a comment that says "I think I may have spotted Janna on such-and-such message board," or "I know someone who knows someone who may have gotten scammed by Janna," or, worst of all "I fear I may have been scammed by Janna." I ask them to give me whatever details they've got, and sometimes it's pretty clear it WAS Janna, but she's had time to cover her tracks, so there's little tangible going on.

This time, her scam got nipped in the bud PDQ, before she could do any serious emotional damage to her new targets. Yay! And...she was fast, but not fast enough to wipe away all the proof. Double yay.

Here we go. Keep your arms and legs inside the car at all times.

She pretended to be someone called "Janet Wilder," who was legally blind, who had a son who died two years ago at age 23. She insinuated herself on a message board for Johnny Weir, the figure skater, and, well, let's let her tell her own story.

"But Ephemerina," I hear you say, "how can you be sure this is Janna? Lots of people lose loved ones to cancer."

Well, dear readers, read on.

That's right, all the little "tells" - her fake masters' in psychology, Elvis fucking Presley yet again, and yet another tedious 70s band that really nobody gives a rat's ass about in this new millennium.

Still, I hear you say "it could just be a coinkydink, maybe you're just so paranoid you see Janna everywhere."

Well, doubting Thomases and Thomasinas, take a gander at this:

Nothing interesting to read, but holy cats! look at the avatar. It's those goddamned trinkets she makes.

"But Ephemerina!" you whine. "I really think it's just a whole load of coincidences. Just because reading this crap gave you a hinky feeling, lots of people make those shitty trinkets, and really, it could just have been that this ghostwriter person BOUGHT these trinkets, maybe even from Janna herself, after all this person is in Chicago too."

Christ, you folks are a pain in the ass sometimes.

Further poking around led me to a Twitter account, which confirmed a hunnert percent that this freakazoid was indeed nobody other than Janna Hopper Saint James St James Priggie. She had a Twitter account called WilderThinger, and she deleted it virtually moments after I read it. Way to go, lady. If nothing else woulda confirmed it, that sure as shit did.

However....

Because I nabbed her so soon after her outing, there was lotsa stuff still in Google's cache. Ha fucking ha ha.

That lady in the pic, the one who clearly doesn't know how to act her age? That tye-dyed twat, well, that is absolutely Janna. The looking up at the camera to disguise her chins, you just know she loves this photo.

But, the best thing was, her Twitter account came up with so many other leads. Like her Twitter name before it was WilderThinger.

Jesus tapdancing Christ, on and on with the goddamned crab thing.

It's all gone now, because one thing Janna knows how to do is cover her considerable ass. And I'm sure she's got another scam or two on the trot, with yet more Twitter accounts, so she won't be lonely. After all, pretending to be different people, well that's just like trying on a new pair of shoes, isn't it, Janna? Of course, in Janna's case, the shoes are often steel-toed jackboots, leaving people crushed in her wake.

But not this time. Not this time, Janet, you cunt. This time you got nailed just as you were casting your net. Because you've fucked with too many people over three decades who are not afraid to talk about how you fucked with them, and they've got an awful lot of friends. And there are an obscene amount of people who are Harlan Ellison and Josh Olson fans (and Styx fans too, judging from my data, go figure). All of that adds up to quite the anti-Munchausen-by-internet army, people determined to stop your nonsense by exposing you sooner rather than later.

This is the kind of result I was hoping for. I'm ecstatic that this blog has managed to save at least a small group of people from further heartache by this succubus. Today's a good day.

And Janna? Fuck you very much, from all of us.

...

2010-03-26T20:03:00.000-07:00

remarkable, isn't it?

2010-02-03T00:18:00.000-08:00

So, here's a few little tidbits from twenty-six-plus years ago. Back when Janna was simply Jann Saint James and even had the letterhead to prove it. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

This is an alleged letter from Tommy Shaw. We all know it's not. Even Janna knows. The person that Janna pulled the Styx scam on, well, that went so far as for Janna to actually procure a Siberian Husky pup from somewhere, and pretended that Tommy gave it away to her.

Note how even here, a quarter of a century ago, Janna was still making digs about her own weight through other personas. And "Tommy" calls her Janny. Ain't that sweet.

Now, here's a letter that I actually love. A tandem effort by darlin' Janny and "Tommy" talking about their impending wedding. I'm including the envelope so you can all see the date of the postmark, and the location. Even then, Janna was mailing shit from places she didn't live.

It's funny how her own handwriting is so elaborately girly, to detract from the other guy-like handwriting she uses when she's pretending to be a guy. "Tommy" had the same kind of fractured psyche that "Jesse" did. And the same handwriting. To keep you from having to do the fishing, here are some links.

HANDWRITING 1

HANDWRITING 2

I mean, really, there's no doubt here, is there? Or perhaps it's just a really big coinkydink. My ass.

And when Janna -- sorry -- JannY's target had finally become frustrated and suspicious that Janny had been lying, about some things at least, and got herself into a decent relationship with a real fella, Janna shot off this little guilt-inducing missive. She's so goddamned good at it, even more than half her life ago she was the queen of tweakitude.

Nice letterhead, huh?

There's more letters, way more, tons more, and quite a cast of characters, of course peripherally bolstering the validity of the person Janna was impersonating. Her MO.

Eventually, this person and a few other people JannY deceived spoke to her mother about this. So her mother has known about Janna's chronic lies for decades. This serial deceiver is surrounded by enablers - her mother Barbara, her daughter Jessica, her husband Bill, and all the other friends she has that know what she's doing and turn a blind eye to it.

Enablers at the very least, if not outright accomplices.

And considering the mad skillz she has in her skanky, rat-infested toolshed, the internet enhances them a thousandfold. Now, she doesn't even need to handwrite letters much; she can deceive dozens of people at a time, in less time. Thank Jebus for cut and paste!!!

It's sad for me to realize now that I will find it very difficult to trust strangers ever again. She really did take that away from me. I was hoping it would come back, but naw, it's gone for good. I know many of you will say that it's probably a good thing, but all the friends I do have, they were strangers once too. So I guess it's just good that I've got the friends I've got, because it's gonna be tough to get any more. Still, I've just gotta throw another "fuck you" out at her for this. Fuck you, Jan Jann Janny Janet Janna Hopper Saint James St. James Priggie, who is neither British nor Australian nor Russian nor French. Nor a man. Nor interesting.

Sigh.

Funny thing

2010-01-20T23:11:00.000-08:00

I've been meaning to do a quick update for some time now, but wouldn't you know it, I've actually been super busy with my real life and chuffed that the blog for my fledgling company gets six times the amount of hits that this site gets. And this site gets a load, although many of them are searches for some other Janna, something to do with sexy times (one would imagine these seekers are flying solo). Then again, who knows, maybe it is the same Janna. She seems to like inflicting sexy times onto her unknowing targets. But my e-comm website, they're all there for ME, man! Yay!

So, anyway, real life intrudes upon the mess Janna made of my past real life. Hence, the quick update turns out to be not so quick.

I think it's important to keep everyone updated, and there ARE a fair amount of people who do check in here, all of them people who knew Janna Saint James Priggie in one of her many masks. This fact is, for me, double-edged. Part of my soul feels bolstered at having these comrades-in-arms, it makes me feel a little less gullible/stupid, because I see how convincing she can be, even in person and not over the intertubes. The other part of my soul feels gutted at knowing other people have been cut to the quick by her, and that even my lawsuit against her hasn't curtailed her impersonation activities one iota.

So let's start with the lawsuit. It's been going on since February 2008 (oh lawsy, almost two years). It's been, I kid you not, to-ing and fro-ing with complaints and responses in a Goldilocks & the Three Bears fashion, where the first complaint wasn't detailed enough, the second was too detailed, mere technicalities, etc etc and really it's just all about delaying it so I run out of money (or patience). There were issues with the judge retiring and a new fella taking his place, more delays and catching up.

Janna's lawyer kept making oblique overtures about Janna's insurance company making some kind of settlement offer for amounts in the neighborhood of $15,000. What the what? Insurance? What kind of insurance covers you against fraud and defamation? I'll have to check my policy, because I'm pretty sure I don't have that in mine. If someone breaks into my car, sure, I'll get reimbursed up to a grand, I think. But fraud? Wow, Batavia's got some comprehensive insurance plans. But who even thinks of getting coverage for this, unless you're already afraid of getting sued for fraud and defamation? WhatEVS. I said thanks, but no thanks.

So, the past almost-two years has been spent just trying to secure a trial. It's cost me a pretty penny, and it's a good thing I have vintage couture up the wazoo, because it's become my Janna Prosecution Fund. Just before Christmas, the new judge orally dismissed the case with prejudice (a tersely scrawled order followed, no actual reason given).

I'm appealing, of course, and don't worry, Goldilocks, we'll draft a complaint that the new judge deems just riiight. But I just did want to put down for the record that it's not cheap, it's a long and painful process, I've been disappointed by this being a potential deterrent, and there's more of the same to come. But...

Janna may have kicked my paranoia into permanent high gear and mangled my trusting nature, but I still have hope that I will emerge from this with the law on my side. My lawyer likes setting precedents, and I still have an assload of vintage, so I'm in this for the long haul.

And that gets me into the next part, now that you know where we are legally. Janna and what she does.

She did this in the late 70s/early 80s, with the band Styx. She convinced many people that she was the beloved of Tommy Shaw, the lead singer of Styx. Before the internet, when it was harder to be faceless. But she was good, nay, great with the letters. I've seen these letters, about darling "Janny," as she was known back then, going on tour with the band. Even then she managed to get the letters postmarked from cities other than her own. Funny how Tommy seemed to exhibit nearly identical symptoms to "Jesse" and blow me if they didn't have identical handwriting too! I'll post Exhibit A here later, when I pull the scans off my external drive.

I'd like to add that I do not believe for a moment any of the things she has alleged about Tommy Shaw, or Dan Fogelberg, or, well, other people she at least had the sense to fabricate after that (except for poor Anne Martel).

So Jan or Jann or Janny or Janet or Janna Saint James St. James or Hopper or Priggie or god knows what has been doing little riffs on this abused/bipolar/suicidal/drugtaking theme for over thirty years. And maybe longer, because lord knows who's gonna get in touch with me in the future. And she's still doing it. I know. People have gotten in touch with me.

So, Janna, some suggestions as to how to keep yourself from being so easily exposed (or found). Things you need to avoid/change to better fool your marks/avoid those you've already burned:

1. Quit with the letter J. Why limit yourself? Call your alter ego something that begins with a different letter, fer chrissake. Baby steps - try the letter K. Krista Kelly Knudson. There ya go. Because, Jessica Jillian James? Really? Really? Jesus Jucking Jhrist, lady.

2. Stop dying of cancer. Try dying of a heart attack, I know it's less drawn-out and you can't milk that as much, but think of the surprise factor that your other alter egos can then capitalize on. And being bipolar is so last decade. Try having Tourettes. Or narcolepsy. That would be good, because then you could combine it and you could die in a horrendous car accident because your narcolepsy kicked in while you were driving. What are the odds? ZOMG!

3. Your obsession with being molested. Stop that. It trivializes what real abuse victims have to deal with.

4. Ditto your obsession with dead children. It trivializes the pain that women who have really lost children have to deal with.

5. And violent rape, in a cornfield or otherwise. It trivializes ... you get my drift. And if you must persist in this lie, at least stop making your assailants Mexican. It's racist. and repetitive.

6. Find another outlet besides #5 above to blame your obesity on. Like maybe Pizzeria Uno. Or Hot Pockets.

7. Llamas, sheep, horses, or any other livestock. A no no.

8. Guys in bands. Seriously. You have to stop saying you were the beloved of/bore the dead child of guys in bands. Especially the bands you chose. In fact, stay away from the topic of music altogether. You know next to nothing about music, and left to your own devices, your taste SUCKS. So, try lawyers or doctors instead. Be the ex of F. Lee Bailey, or Christian Barnard. It'll make you seem smarter, at least.

9. Super-insane fractured families in which all the participants hate each other. Try drawing from a family life other than your own.

10. Stop talking about Dr. Hunter Thompson as if you knew him. If there's anyone that'd transcend the afterlife to kick your ass for demeaning his good name, it's him. Add to that a plea to stop mentioning Ted Bundy, because eeeewwww.

11. Find a new trinket obsession, besides crabs, pirates, skulls, voodoo, mermaids, and the Wizard of Oz. In case you were wondering, you're not one of the good witches. You're the one the house fell on.

12. Stop using ludicrous hippie names for your alter egos. That also means stop pretending you do yoga. A circle can't do a triangle.

13. I don't know what you can use instead of failed suicide attempts; they're just SO convenient in keeping your victims in line, so I guess you can keep this one.

14. Dancing. You. do. not. dance. You can barely walk.

15. Say no to drugs. And multiple personalities.

16. Professions - no more firemen, journalists, EMTs, cowboys, nurses, or teachers. Become something else. Perhaps something more apt - burger flipper, or Wal-Mart greeter.

17. Quit calling yourself a writer. You're a creative typist.

Shit, that's too much for now. I'm sure my list of suggestions could go on and on. But it's a start. If my suing Janna didn't stop her from pulling this shit to date, at least she shouldn't make it so easy for people to figure out who she is.

So, that's it for now.

an observation

2009-09-19T01:56:00.000-07:00

I went to see The Informant! today, and got truly squicked out by Matt Damon's character. If there was ever an accurate representation of what I imagine is going on in Janna St James Priggie's addled head, it's this guy's inner (and outer!) dialogue. Holy bleedin' crap.

It's a good movie. Go see it.

As for the other thing, I've just got a lot on my plate right now. Janny can wait.

F is for Fake

2009-08-26T19:23:00.000-07:00

Just a little update on my lawsuit against Janna. The judge agreed to proceed with the fraud charge against her, but for some inexplicable reason, decided against a few other charges, including defamation (what can ya do, the original judge retired in the middle of the complaint to-ing and fro-ing, and the replacement is new at his job). But hey, that's what appeals courts are for. So, we're going to go ahead with prosecuting Janna for fraud in civil court, and we're going to appeal the other charges. Fun fun fun. Almost two years and counting. Don't you love the legal system?

I'll tell you, though. I love my lawyer. She is fierce.

I was gonna drop another little bombshell here, but I think I'll do a little investigatin' myself first. Let's just say styx and stones may break my bones, but old handwriting never dies.

How's that for obliquely screwing up metaphors?

...what really kills me...

2009-08-05T01:14:00.000-07:00

It's been three years since my dog died. Which means three years since "Jesse" died. And nearly three since Janna St. James Priggie's scam was exposed. I should be clearer and point out that the scam she pulled on ME was exposed. The earlier scams, the one she pulled on the Fogelberg message board folks (not to mention what she did to Anastasia), and the ones she pulled even earlier than that, she was exposed by her victims, too. Luckily for her, though, up till she pwned me, her victims tried simple confrontation, involving various members of her family over the years, and exposure on a small scale, within their group. Clearly didn't work, wouldn't you say? Her entire immediate family knows what she does, has been doing, for decades now. Decades. I'll bet even my lawsuit hasn't made her put the bullshit brakes on.

This crazy lady has been doing this shit to people for AT LEAST THIRTY YEARS. Let that sink in a minute. Janna Saint James has been pretending to know/date people in bands since the birth of disco. What was happening three decades ago? The biggest band in the world was the fucking Bee Gees, and probably the biggest movie star was John Travolta. Ironically, Ted Bundy had finally been captured in Florida. It was Jimmy Carter's first year in the White House. The Sex Pistols were touring. Queen Noor of Jordan had just become Queen Noor of Jordan. Bebe Buell hadn't birthed Liv Tyler. Steve Perry hadn't even joined Journey yet, people! They were still doing nuclear testing in Nevada. Probably many of you reading this hadn't even been born at this point. The internet hadn't even been invented.

Point being, that was a long time ago. Long time. And for all I know, she's been doing it for even longer than that. If she was, I'm sure I'll be hearing from more victims eventually. She didn't need the internet to screw with people's heads - she used baldfaced lies face-to-face with people, forged letters, but the same basic underlying bullshit: mental illness, addictions, firemen, horses, blahdeblah. But the internet, well now, it's so much easier for Janna to pretend to be someone else, in fact, not only someone else, but someone elseS, many many people all at once, and to more than one targeted victim at a time. I'm also not stupid enough to think that she stopped after I popped her Jesse bubble, so no doubt there have been more after me, and although I wish it were otherwise, I'm sure I'll be hearing from them too, eventually.

So, for any browsers that are curious if the person they met online is real, google Munchausen's by Internet and see if that cancer-riddled, bipolar, abuse victim whose gentle soul always seems to rise above their life's challenges exhibits any of the listed traits. Do they flip out when you even vaguely suggest that they might not be everything they say they are? Do they put you on the defensive for even daring to think such a thing?

Look for the red flags, folks. Yes, that person might be the light of your life, you might eventually hook up in the real world, and you will be everything and more to each other. But that person also might be Janna Hopper St. James Saint James Priggie, an obese lunatic senior citizen who is a career emotional vampire who has found her ultimate weapon, the internet, and is wallowing in it like the depraved pig she is.

I think about my beloved dog, who, in the twilight of his years, was deprived of my attention because Janna played her headfuck with me. I will have to live with that guilt always, that I didn't give my pup that extra scritch because I was talking "Jesse" down from one of his many bipolar freakouts. It seems like a small thing, but it's not. I've talked about the squandering of time before, and I cannot stress enough: YOU WILL NOT GET THAT TIME BACK. EVER. So make sure it's worth it. At least make sure this person really truly exists. It may seem embarrassing to have to ask, but in this day and age, would you have sex with someone in the real world without seeing a current HIV test in the negative? Why give someone your valuable time, a chunk of your life, without some sort of hard proof that they really are who they say they are?

Oh, and I'm still doing fine. Thanks for asking.

too good not to mention

2008-12-29T12:38:00.000-08:00

There's some sort of serious irony in this post of Janna's. Couldn't not mention it, seeing as how the whole romantic story turned out to be a fraud.

Oh, and I'm doing great. Thanks for asking.

wow

2008-09-30T00:29:00.000-07:00

I don't know who all you folks are who're still reading this blog, but hey, I hope none of you are new victims of Janna's.

But still, I'm super-happy that I'm getting more hits on my business website than this blog here. For a while it wasn't that way.

I have been asked this, and I've worked it out a bit in therapy, so I want to put it here, by way of explanation as to why this blog exists. In my journey in learning about Janna's background, I have met other people she has done this to in the past. While I appreciated their assistance and their candor, I could also see how revisiting the dreadfulness that Janna's monstrous mendacity created made them relive it all over again. I felt enough of that while simply going through my receipts for taxes and coming across gifts I'd purchased for Janna et. al. last year.

So, in addition to really truly not wanting anyone else to go through what I've gone through these past few years, I also really truly do not want to get a phone call or email from someone in ten years' time, asking the question: "sorry to bother you, but I think I've been the victim of internet fraud by a woman called Janna Saint James Priggie." I would rather put all of this out there now and be done with it. I don't want to be thinking about Janna ten years down the road.

Get it? Got it? Good.

for Anastasia

2008-06-11T14:23:00.000-07:00

Thank you for your story about your trial by fire with Janna. I mean really.

I'm nowhere near forgiveness for what she did to me, nor do I quite believe in the whole eye for an eye thing, so I guess I'm hovering in the center of all the Bible's teachings. What I can do is attempt to prevent future victims by endeavoring to ensure that she thinks twice before pulling this crap on anyone else.

Again, thank you.

AMENDED to add: I do have many people, pets and worthwhile distractions in my life that soothe and comfort me. The Janna St. James poison is diluted greatly by them, and I am grateful for that.

...

2008-02-25T23:48:00.001-08:00

posting this for Tarheel State O' Mind

2007-11-17T07:20:00.000-08:00

She seems to be having problems with the comments. So I'm posting it here, because it's funny.

For Ephemerina...
(Apologies to Pink Floyd)

"Priggies" (Three Different Ones)"

Big gal, Prig gal, ha ha, charade you are
You well-heeled Pig squeal, ha ha, charade you are
And with smirk upon on your face-
You nearly think you've won the chase
Almost a joker
With your head down in the pig bin
Squealin' "keep on digging"
Pig stain on your Priggie chin
What do you hope to find?
When you're down in the pig mine
You're nearly a laugh
You're nearly a laugh
But you're really a cry.

Can't stop Hag bag, ha ha, charade you are
You fucked up old, cold shag, ha ha, charade you are
You radiate cold shafts of broken glass
You're nearly a good laugh
Homemade sin's ugly sister grin
You like the feel of Steal
Hot shit on a shat bin
Poseur fun - were you ever a nun?
You're nearly a laugh
You're nearly a laugh
But you're really a cry.

Hey you Ho-house, Pig louse, ha ha, charade you are
You skank bitch, face twitch, ha ha, charade you are
You're trying to keep our findings off the street
You're nearly a real treat
Falling on a tight slip; a bold feat
And do you feel abused?
.....!.....!.....!.....!
You gotta stem the evil tide
And keep the rot on the inside
Priggie you're nearly a treat
Priggie you're nearly a treat
But you're really a cry.

ooooooo Josh Olson!

2007-10-30T18:00:00.000-07:00

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.

happy trails

2007-10-24T12:26:00.001-07:00

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.

verrrry interesting

2007-10-22T19:34:00.000-07:00

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?)

in a nutshell

2007-10-22T10:04:00.001-07:00

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.

answers to questions

2007-10-21T11:12:00.000-07:00

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!!!!!!

chill pill

2007-10-21T07:35:00.000-07:00

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.

awwww, A

2007-10-21T00:30:00.000-07:00

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.

hey, A part deux

2007-10-20T22:31:00.000-07:00

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.

is there a graphologist in the house?

2007-10-20T21:10:00.000-07:00

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.

more email

2007-10-20T12:59:00.000-07:00

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....

hey, A

2007-10-20T12:29:00.001-07:00

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.

cash cow

2007-10-20T01:40:00.000-07:00

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.

blast from the past

2007-10-18T23:21:00.000-07:00

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.

confusion, misinterpretation, and other whatthefucks

2007-10-17T21:37:00.001-07:00

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.

much LOLZ were had by all

2007-10-16T16:21:00.000-07:00

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.

biting the hand that doesn't feed me

2007-10-15T22:11:00.001-07:00

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.

well, stomp on frogs and shove a crowbar up my nose

2007-10-14T17:09:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-14T15:24:00.000-07:00

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.

sorry, "Q"

2007-10-14T10:24:00.000-07:00

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.

thanks for the heads-up, sheila

2007-10-14T01:11:00.000-07:00

Looks like Janna's back in action, being both Sifl and Olly, perhaps even Chester too.

Pegasus, heh heh heh heh.

talk about surreal

2007-10-12T21:51:00.000-07:00

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? 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.

uh, hi

2007-10-11T10:12:00.000-07:00

...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.

here it is

2007-10-10T15:44:00.001-07:00

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?

there are Jannas everywhere

2007-09-27T15:12:00.000-07:00

Seems as though a woman in NYC is under suspicion for not being who she says she is.

What is wrong with these people, so desperately needing attention that they have to piggyback onto tragedy?

catch you on the rebound, talk to you later when I have less time

2007-09-01T19:10:00.000-07:00

So, then. This will be the last lengthy post, unless something utterly amazing happens, like Janna St. James suddenly coming clean in public fora.

I've given up waiting for the article about her to appear. High-powered legal beagles futzing over minor contract points is ridiculous and bound to be protracted. When the article does finally make publication, I'll post a link here. Probably in 2011, knowing the way goddamned lawyers work.

I've said a lot already, but a few things need repeating, I think, and a few things need stating.

I think Janna Saint James really thinks she did something good for me by pretending to be "Jesse" and his random coterie of faux friends and relatives. I would like to state unequivocally that she did nothing good for me. All she did was make my job more difficult by distracting from it with "Jesse's" various trials and tribulations. All she did was disrupt my sleep with worry and eventually grief. I fully believe that she contributed to (if not outright caused) the illnesses that befell me following "Jesse's" death by weakening my immune system with all the grief and guilt and days without sleep. All she did was try to screw up friendships I had with my real-word friends. All she did was make my home life uncomfortable at best and unbearable at worst. She did not "free" me, which is what I think she comforts herself with when she's alone with her private thoughts. All it was, all she did, for nearly two years (whoops, sorry, a year and a half), was shovel the bullshit on, and it's that crap-covered yardstick I use to measure those twenty months by.
Last month I sent Janna's daughter Jessica an email, to an address I believe is her own, although who knows to what lengths Janna has gone to deceive? I will assume that Jessica received it, and would hope that she read it, and this blog, and has taken appropriate action in getting her mother to the nearest psychiatric facility. Of course, it could very well be that she was in on this whole scam from the beginning, and is happily availing herself to some of the many gifts I showered upon "Jesse". Still being the cockeyed optimist that I am, I'd like to think that there's at least one normal one in the St. James family and that she's done the right thing with her demented mother. If not, well, maybe she didn't get the mail. Or maybe she doesn't care. Or maybe it really just is all Janna. Maybe there's not even really a Jessica. If there is, and she's reading this, mazel tov, move as far away from your nutjob mother as you can after the wedding. I suggest Europe. And keep her away from your kids. She's obsessed with child molestation.
I have decided against pressing charges, although a lawyer in Chi-town will be sad to not soak Janna for her car, fancy Indian silver jewelry, and other assets. He'll have to make do with the retainer he's been paid. My main reason for wanting to sue Janna was to get the courts to rule that she see a shrink for at least a couple of years and to limit her computer usage, but that kind of thing is virtually unenforceable by the courts. I'm hoping that by giving Jessica the information about what Janna spent her time doing for nearly two years that she cares enough about her mother to do the right thing.
Going through all my receipts for taxes, and going further back into 2005, I spent WAY more on "Jesse" et al than I first (and second) thought. All that stuff at the beginning, a personalized iPod and all the accoutrements for $650 (which, yeah, "Jesse" reimbursed me $300 for, but I didn't reveal how much I spent because I like gifting those I love), expensive bath stuff from Lush, the sterling silver handmade bracelet for $300 that "Jesse" asked to be cremated with, a $600 reservation at a Laguna Beach B&B that had strict no-refund cancellation policies (cancelled because "Jesse" had to voluntarily check in to a psychiatric hospital to avoid his sister committing him), that $550 R/T nonrefundable plane ticket to Denver that I never used, $100 worth of organic asparagus ("Jesse" liked asparagus), $250 for toiletries bags with the Jesse prairie dog photo on them, one for me and one for Janna, $200 to FedEx the birthday package to Spain for "Jesse's" "son," which was of course returned to me (and in fact phenomenal amounts of shipping charges for all those items I sent to "Jesse" and Janna via Priority Mail and FedEx), $600 in moving boxes/packing to put my stuff in for my move to Colorado, $400 for a few bottles of "Jesse's" favorite wine, so I could drink it in tribute after he died, $40 for a goddamned clothes shaver, and another $40 for a backup in case "Jesse's" "son" burned out the first one, horseback riding lessons and the fucking useless boots recommended by "Cakey," the entire New Mexico/Colorado trip, outfits I bought on ebay thanks to "Jesse's" prompting, and all those little stupid things that time and trauma had erased from my memory banks. Teetering at the ten grand mark. Over two years -- sorry -- a year and a half.
I've gone through all the stuff I bought for "Jesse" and his "family" but hadn't had the opportunity to send before "Jesse" died, as well as some things I received. I'll be selling most of it, with the proceeds going to a couple of local organizations who help abused kids. Most of the stuff I got for "Jesse's" "son" has already gone to these shelters. The things I don't sell I'll destroy, if I haven't already - I enjoyed shredding that bullshit prairie dog giclee with the bullshit sentiments written on the sides. I'll have a pass at selling that painting of Doug that Janna did, if nobody wants it, I'll shred that too. As much as part of me thinks that I should sell these items to recompense myself for the money conned out of me by Janna Saint James, I'll just think of it as a pricey life lesson. I don't want that money, because it has the stink of bullshit on it. And especially after Janna sucked up sympathy from so many for poor poor "Jesse's" abuse by his mother's husband and the drug dealers he was traded to, I think it's about fucking time some poor kids who really did have to go through that shit get something positive from this icky negative.
I know that I'm sane, rational, and honest, all things Janna is not. I don't even think she's that smart. I was impressed by "Jesse's" breadth of knowledge as a 35-year-old man who'd spent half his life drug-addicted. Not so much when you find "Jesse" is a fiftysomething Batavia, Illinois hausfrau who has all the time in the world to read histrionic tomes and watch Oprah while chowing down on Hot Pockets.

Janna, as "Jesse," and also as herself, didn't much rate Tom Waits, supposedly because he romanticized pain and suffering. I never thought that, more that he documents the truth of the world, and pain and suffering do exist in this world. Of course, a drama queen like Janna Saint James saw it as romanticizing pain, because that is exactly what she does. She saw Tom Waits as the competition*. She worked the pain, milking sympathy from every available metaphorical cow to feed her ego. Janna also liked criticizing me by proxy, being horrid to me as one of "Jesse's" friends or relatives, or pulling out the stops in her blog to save her own skin, still usually quoting what some other individual less saintly than herself told her to say, or telling me Madam X mocked me fiercely when I called myself a navel-gazer. But at least I seek, and I think that Janna the psycho dyke-o is just jealous because she hasn't seen her own navel since the 70s. Is that mean? Yeah. Oh well. I never said I was perfect (unlike Janna), and I'm still feeling pretty mean about her.

Janna's biggest danger is that she tries real hard to create an alternate reality that shows her as a loving, kind, unlucky person. We joked at the beginning, "Jesse" and I, about how I was probably a wizened man with bristly hair in my ears and plaid pants hiked up to my armpits, emailing from my senior care center in Sarasota, and that "Jesse" was probably an obese housewife in Chicago. Well, guess what? I think that was the first and last time that "Jesse" was ever honest with me. Janna is exactly that. Exactly that, but she'd regale me with stories about how she never weighed more than 105 pounds until she was gang-raped, beaten, and left for dead in the middle of a cornfield about ten years ago by three Mexican men. But thanks to "Jesse," he sent her to the best doctors in Europe for reconstructive surgery, and slept on the floor by her bed in the hospital room, when even her husband didn't do that. "Jesse" would always talk about how wonderful and clever and brilliant and beautiful Janna was. Blah blah blah blah blah. It goes on and on, about how tiny and petite and pretty she always was and now she's a huge hideous house and the Weight Watchers people don't understand or sympathize with her because she hasn't been fat all her life. A million stories, a million excuses for why she is the way she is. I really never gave a shit what size she was, or for how long. I never asked for explanations, but was a huge issue for her. Huge. She had to convince me that she was once attractive, desirable, sexy, and that it was misfortune rather than one too many supersized McDonalds meals that made her the way she was. We all have things we wish we could change about ourselves. I'd like racehorse ankles and calves that boots could fit over. It don't mean I'll pretend I once possessed these things (well, maybe I did, when I was nine). I'd also like to be nicer to people, but the fact is that I'm not a very nice person, and I'm happy to be a bitch when bitchery is called for, and as far as Janna is concerned, she deserves a shitload of bitchery.

Janna lied to me for twenty months, and then once she was found out by my friends, she lied for a few more months, about me. And probably still is lying now, and will lie tomorrow, and the day after that. She's probably right now studying some new fashionable illness that she can give her next Perfect Man, and god knows, she's probably absorbed some of my life into her new Mister Right. She may be sick, but she's also fully cognizant of what she's doing, because the calculated way she tried to tear me apart following her outing was utterly spectacular, and hey, talk about mean. I've spent my time since February rethinking everything I've known to be true and cannot find it in my heart to forgive Janna for any of this. I can't even say with assurance that if she'd been up-front with me prior to, or even following, her unmasking by my friends, that I would have been less angry with her than I am now. I also can't guarantee that if I ever run into her that I won't want to give her a serious slap across the face. Maybe two. I do know that she should count her blessings that so far her victims have been relatively benign, because even here, with my friends, she was thisclose to getting herself a righteous ass-kicking by a couple of my (normally pacifist) friends. Next person Janna does this to, she might not be so lucky.

I really hope that this blog serves its purpose and warns anyone else who gets tangled up in the Janna St. James web before emotional harm is inflicted upon them. But since Janna is in deep, deep denial, and who knows how much she's fucked up her own life, I reckon she'll just keep herself out of the next deception and reconfigure Mister Right for some other unsuspecting person who trusts just that little bit too much. I've done what I can, and it's up to those who love Janna to keep her from pulling this kind of cunning stunt again. I just hope that there is someone out there who loves her enough. Or at all. Otherwise, I guess I'll just see her in hell.

-------------
*note to Janna, who I know is reading this, either as herself or as a Jannafestation: I know Tom Waits and you are no Tom Waits [with apologies to the late Lloyd Bentsen]. He has talent. You have limited creative typing ability.

video

2007-08-04T02:11:00.000-07:00

Here's a bit of the video footage taken of Janna St. James the day she was evicted from my home. Most of it is just bullshit watching her pack, surrendering her drivers license for photographing, and stonewalling my friends, so I just pulled a bit of my friends trying to get her to explain, apologize, anything.

She didn't say much, but one thing she did take exception to was being accused of fucking with me for two years. She didn't seem to be concerned with the act of fuckery, but of the amount of time she was accused of doing it for. Newsflash -- lying about the existence of a man, pretending to BE that man, as well as his friends and relatives, screwing with the heart and head of someone you met online, sucks dead donkey dick whether it's for two years, a year and a half, or half a goddamned hour.

Newspaper article's on the verge of being published, apparently the holdup has been the haggling over movie rights. Funny, eh? They'll make any goddamned thing into a movie these days. Link forthcoming. For now, enjoy the video.

today's gagworthy entry

2007-07-20T20:10:00.000-07:00

Here's the last letter "Jesse" sent me, mailed from Alaska by his "ex-professor" the day after he died. Apparently it fell behind a cushion on the couch where "Jesse" was sleeping and when he couldn't find it he asked this guy to mail it for him. People who read my prior blog (not available any longer) have already seen the front of the card - a prairie dog. I received this card around the 8th, but held onto it to open with Janna in New Mexico, where we stayed at "Jesse's" favorite spa to celebrate his birthday, September 21.

So, that's the backstory. Here's the letter. Isn't it sweet? Isn't Janna creative?

in case you're still curious...

2007-07-17T23:52:00.001-07:00

I thought I'd put up some more photos.

"Jesse's" alleged horse, "Bowie"

"Jesse's" alleged barn, and alleged other horse, "Shidoni"

"Jesse's" alleged brother-in-law, "Tim Kuippfer" and two llamas

"Jesse's" alleged grandfather, "Desmond" Something-or-other-Irish

"Jesse's" alleged father, "Davian Blaine" (the guy in the middle) in college in Colorado back in the hippie heyday

"Jesse's" alleged friends, "Bean," "Butch," "Cakey," and "Clue"

"Cakey's" alleged ex-lair, before moving to the wonderful house on "Jesse's" ranch.

Another pic of "Cakey's" lair

Another photo of "Jesse's" alleged ex-wife "Krista"

A photo of two of "Alice Aloha's" alleged teacher coven members - the one on the right ("Lesley") tried to get jiggy with "Jesse"

"Jesse's" alleged Argentinian friend "Pavlo"

"Jesse's" alleged niece "Oona" days after being born in February 2006

"Jesse's" alleged niece "Oona" a year later.

"Jesse's" alleged son "Rhys" at the wedding of "Krista" to her second husband, "Steve"
"Jesse's" alleged son "Rhys" about a year and a half ago

The famous "Jesse feeding a prairie dog" photo

A photo of "Jesse" that his sister "Alice Aloha" sent me

A photo of "Jesse" and "Cakey's" alleged wife "Amy" that was on "Cakey's" blog

The first photo anyone ever saw of "Jesse" supposedly taken Memorial Day 2004, I believe

"Jesse" with his alleged dog, "Hoot"

Another photo of "Jesse" from "Cakey's" blog

A photo of "Jesse" when he was an alleged child

A photo of "Jesse" the day he left the NY psychiatric facility (2004 I think) - he said he wanted to remember what his stay there was like

A photo of "Jesse" and "Rhys" that "Alice Aloha" sent me

A photo of "Jesse" and some guy allegedly called "Bear" or something butch like that.

Photos of Jesse when he was in Little League, before he was traded as a sex toy to drug dealers by his "fauxther"

I'm sure I have more photos lying around, but I've spent my allotted amount of time on Janna crap today, and have my real life to get back to. Who knows what I'll put up here tomorrow? Maybe I'll revive "Jesse's" blog. Ha.

adios, amoebas

2007-07-17T23:32:00.000-07:00

I'm wrapping this show up, but because I'm a big fan of closure, I'll be throwing a few things up here before I call it a day. One of those things is "Jesse's" tribute blog. For those of you who either want a stroll down surreal memory lane, or for people who never did get a look at it in the first place. Good thing I save everything, eh?

You'll find moving entries from Janna (as bajo, or Magnolia, as she was known thereabouts), "Jesse's" sister "Aloha," "Annie Martel," "Cakey," "Krista," "Rhys," "Pavlo," "Tim," and Janna's daughter Jessica (as the second part of JSquared). There were also some of "Jesse's" friends from the Deadwood boards, who I know exist! Thank the Lawd for small miracles. And me, there's some stuff from me too. Try not to laugh at me too much, and remember I was a basket case a year ago.

Janna prompted me to take the blog private, because she knew freaks were reading it, and it made her uncomfortable to post there. More likely she was afraid she'd be found out by someone she knew. Whatever the reason, here it is, no longer under wraps.

Go to town.

July 2006

August 2006

September 2006

October 2006

December 2006

January 2007

welcome to my weird world

2007-05-28T21:52:00.001-07:00

I just finished watching The Night Listener. Sigh. I'd say that this movie, in a mashup with Notes On A Scandal, as directed by Hal Ashby, pretty much sums up my life these past couple of years. I was ripped off big-time by Janna St. James, perhaps for a shorter period of time than her Fogelberg quarry, but fucked more emotionally, since I had to deal with the death of "Jesse." At least with Dan Fogelberg she was somewhat tethered to reality, which is probably why she just made up the next dreamboat for big sucker me. She also got far more tangible goods out of me than the last lot. She's obviously honed her skills. She'll probably get a fuckin' car out of the next victim.

Blah. Vomit.

ani always writes what I think

2007-05-25T01:15:00.000-07:00

life in the circus ain't easy
but the folks on the outside don't know
the tent goes up and the tent comes down
and all that they see is the show
and the ladies on the horses look so pretty
and the lions are lookin real mad
and some of the clowns are happy
and some of the clowns are sad

but underneath
there's another expression
that the makeup isn't making
life under the big top
it's about freedom
it's about faking
there's an art to the laughter
there's a science
and there's a lot of love and compliance

welcome to the freakshow
here we go...

we live to hear the slack-jawed gasping
we live under a halo of held breath
and when the children raise up a giant shield
of laughter, it's like they're fending off death
and we can make something bigger
than any one of us alone
and then the clowns will take off their makeup
and the people will go home

but life on the ouside ain't easy
no sequins, no elephants
no parading around
oh the circus comes
and the circus goes
and they're stuck in this fucking town

you need a lot of love and compliance

welcome to the freakshow
here we go

watch this space

2007-05-16T21:04:00.000-07:00

Just thought I'd poke my head in here, say howdy to all those folks that are still sticking with this blog. The newspaper article about Janna St. James and her factitious disorder is forthcoming, I'd say within the next couple of weeks. Research and fact-checking is a bitch, or so I'm told.

If it's available online, I'll post a link. Otherwise, I'll figure out another way to distribute it to those who desire to read it, and to those who deserve to know.

Oh, and I'm doing well, by the way. Feel free to send me an e if you have any questions. I'll do my best to answer you.

the hits just keep on coming

2007-05-04T07:48:00.000-07:00

Funny how someone who comments on my blog gets miffed when I then check theirs out, find something mean and just plain wrong about me vis-a-vis this situation, and comment on it. So miffed, in fact, that she won't allow me to comment at all anymore. So I guess I'll just respond here.

----------------------------------

Cari -

You "invited" me to your blog when you felt yourself entitled to comment on my own blog (which I don't recall inviting you to) nigh on two months ago.

I requested proof of "Jesse's" existence, as you know, when it was proven otherwise to me by research my friends and private investigators undertook. I also offered to have a neutral party deposed to say they'd seen "Jesse's" death certificate without revealing to me what "his" real name was, so your bullshit about me trying to weasel into this alleged family is just that - bullshit.

I can't figure out if you're Janna St. James, in collusion with Janna, or have just bought so deep into the fiction that you can't see the forest for the trees. I suspect the latter (but. don't. KNOW. for. sure.), and further, can't figure your motivation - is it that you're so painfully gullible or simply so egotistical that you can't believe you're wrong? Either way, you're clearly miffed that I didn't respond to your email platitudes, and you feel like lashing out at me for it. Whatevs. You wrote me an email that didn't prove jacksquat about who you are, more just gave you a forum to rattle on about your opinion, which I was already aware of. It didn't seem to warrant a reply.

Like I've said, it's been proven that Janna has told massive lies about herself, and whether or not she was "Jesse," the fact remains that nothing I was told by "Jesse," or any "friends" or "family" of "Jesse" was true in the least. So spare me your sympathy for the hurt of alleged people who made it their life's work to fuck with my head for nearly two years. And please limit your psychoanalysis to those poor souls deluded enough to pay you for their services because they think you're qualified to help them.

------------------------------------

Now, back to our previously scheduled programming.

okay, folks

2007-04-25T19:48:00.000-07:00

There's really nothing much to report at the moment, I'll post a link to the newspaper article when it's published.

For now, why don't you read up a bit on Munchausen's by Internet?

Article 1

Article 2

Article 3

Article 4

A skeleton walks into a bar...

2007-04-23T08:30:00.000-07:00

...says, "gimme a beer and a mop."

busy day

2007-04-16T21:06:00.000-07:00

This is it for me, at least until I come up with more proof that I feel like sharing with the world. Readers should check out Janna St. James's blog [ed. note - I removed the link, I won't be party to that, all she wants is attention attention attention], she's still pretending she's the victim. She may be feeling victimized, but for all the crap she's pulled, she's got a long way before she gets to have victim status awarded to her. If ever.

For those Fogelberg fans who were victims of Janna's perfidy, I feel for every single one of you. I don't know how long she strung you along, she hooked me for close to two years. She's good at what she does as long as she's got believers, not so good at covering her tracks when she doesn't. One might say that, like the Ted Bundy she never interviewed, she left little clues because she wanted to get caught. I'm getting lots of questions answered now, but I'm still planning on hitting Aspen (and points south, it appears) to find out more. Time to take a road trip.

Till then, read Janna's blog, if she dares post any further. And she appears to have opened up her comments again, so why not tell her what you think? I did. And just in case she deletes it, here ya go, my response to her "poor victimized me" whining:

Hmmm, are you saying you're not a lying sack of shit?

Still?

Always playing the victim, eh, Janna? God forbid your life ever becomes a vibrant color, because in your life, even beige is evil. Imagine what could happen if you introduce some red.

Why are you frightened? Because people you fucked over are angry with you? Because your lies are all being turned over, inspected, and revealed, one by one? Because your previous fuck-over-ees are coming out of the woodwork and helping me fit pieces of your screwed-up puzzle?

Maybe you should've thought about that before you started your destructive charade.

No kidding you love to write. You wrote thousands of emails in the year you were "Jesse" and all his satellites. When I talked to the fella at the Denver AP office, I told him that although you'd never been employed by them, they might want to think about hiring you, if they need any fiction writing.

And for the record, I don't give a rat's ass if you're alive. I don't want to see you dead, you ridiculous drama queen. I just don't want you fucking up anyone else's life again, ever, and if that means taking an ad out in the Batavia Sun so that your community knows what you are, I can do that.

I'd still prefer an admission of guilt from you, along with proof that you're getting professional help. Failing that, I can promise you I have people working toward making sure that everyone you know, knows who and what you are.

Please note, I'm not anonymous. I don't need to hide behind fake identities to tell you what I think.

a couple more faux-tos

2007-04-16T16:14:00.000-07:00

"Jesse" sent me all these photos way back in July 2005. Anyone help me out some?

Here's a photo of the alleged AP office, although what Jesse's llama was doing in Denver, I don't know. The women are, from left to right, Jesse's alleged ex-girlfriend Jennifer, his alleged sister Alice Aloha Toklas James Jameson Kuippfer, and the alleged wife of his doctor friend Bean. I believe the llama's name is Lightfoot. Allegedly.

This is Jesse's alleged ex-wife Krista Andersson James Jameson Blaine.

Now for some photos of Jesse's alleged house.

The alleged desk Jesse wrote all his alleged AP articles at. He liked using a typewriter.

Jesse's alleged music room. Apparently he was standing on top of the piano when he took this photo. The vinyl allegedly belonged to his brother Starshine Saffron James Jameson.

This is Jesse's alleged living room. It's got a greenhouse with a waterfall also. Allegedly.

Here's the llamas in the alleged barn.

Here's the alleged view from Jesse's alleged bed.

Here's Jesse's alleged kitchen.

Here's the view up to Jesse's alleged bedroom and the alleged library.

Cute, isn't it?

Awwwwww, Janna, I'm just funnin' with ya. I know it's Dan Fogelberg's house. Or do you think I somehow managed to retroactively collude with Christie's Great Estates to dress up his house to look like Jesse's? Not Jesse's house, because there never was a Jesse. All you. All your photos, because hello, what would Jesse be doing with photos of Dan Fogelberg's house down in Pagosa Springs, which, strangely enough, is where you lived for a time. What's your issue with Dan Fogelberg, Janna? Did you get to go home with him once back in the 70s, and you brought your little Kodak instamatic to document the event? Did he fuck you and forget you? Or did he reject your advances entirely? You always said mean things about him to me, so I'm inclined to think that you were spurned somehow. Maybe he found out you were lying about him to others, since that seems to be your MO.

You really are a cunt, Janna St. James.

photos

2007-04-16T09:44:00.000-07:00

...or should I say "faux-tos?"

Jesse's sister's alleged house and llama. Uh huh.

Jesse's alleged rapist Julia, with same alleged llama as above (but what do I know, all llamas llook allike to me). Uh huh.

Jesse's alleged friend Cakey. Uh huh.

Jesse, carrying his alleged son Rhys, going on a hike with his alleged friends and alleged grandfather Desmond in the middle. Uh huh.

Jesse Jubilee James, allegedly taken in May 2006 by Janna's daughter Jessica's friend Sarah, when they all took a Memorial Day trip to Beaver Island, MI, with Annie Martel (who, as you know, stated to me that she doesn't know a Janna St. James). Uh huh.

Confusing enough for you yet?

Hey, Janna, who's wearing all those pairs of movie merchandise panties I gave you, since Jesse and Amy are fictional and Annie doesn't know who you are? Or did you cut them up and sew them back together to make a pair that would fit you? Is your hubby wearing "Cakey's" jacket?

it's not just the feet that are clay...

2007-04-13T17:48:00.000-07:00

I was thinking today, while I was driving, which is when I do my best thinking. I decided the reason Janna St. James is so vindictive, and so angry at my friends (and by extension, me) is because she was exposed, sure, but more because they suddenly made this beautiful story she concocted into an ugly one.

I'd use a best-case/worst-case analogy, but I'm hard-pressed to decide which one is best or worst in this case, since they all suck, at least for Janna St. James, and for me too, while I was on a bipolarcoaster with a complex man and subsequently grieving over his death. So let's just lay it out.

On the one hand, we have Jesse Jubilee James, or the guy I thought was called Jesse Jubilee James. Playing let's pretend again (after all, this is the land of fakey, so pretend is always comfortable here), if Jesse was real, he's been exposed as a lying shitheel who told not one ounce of truth to me or anyone else, so the George Washington-esque, noble, yogic, journalist-fireman-cowboy was nothing he claimed to be. And all his friends that talked to me were all in on the huge deception also. A conspiracy that fuckin' rivals the assassination of JFK. It ain't just the feet, this idol is clay from stem to stern. Soooooo, if that's the truth, it logically follows that Janna is a liar too, because she perpetuated the lies of a liar.

On the other hand, we have Janna St. James making all this crap up, which still makes her a lying sack of shit.

Funny how that works.

Either way, she's fer shure a lying sack of shit who watches too many soap operas (and Oprahs), and leads a life that leaves her unfulfilled, hence her fictions about Aspen and her life as a crack journalist/editor for the Associated Press, or wait, maybe not them. There was some smarmy snipe in her blog some time back about how AP wasn't the only news service out there, as though I inferred something that was not implied. But with Janna, obviously everything she and her Jannafestations spew forth are metaphors, just because she says she interviewed Ted Bundy for Associated Press and opened their Aspen office, what she really meant is that she interviewed Ed Gein for Reuters and opened their Fargo office. And when Jesse Jubilee James says his name is Jesse Jubilee James and his sister's name is Alice Aloha Toklas James Jameson Kuippfer, and his brother's name was, presumably, Starshine Saffron James Jameson, really they were Bob, Mae, and Jim Smith. Silly me for taking things at face value.

Still, because I know better, in this case, Occam's Razor is the way to go. There's no big conspiracy. A tiny one, all in Janna St. James's head, and as I've said before, quite badly written, but she didn't really have much time to hone it, not like the nearly-two years she had to string me along with hard-luck story after hard-luck story.

A sad but beautiful story of a starcrossed love was turned into a tawdry pulp fiction, but either way, it was one hunnert percent bullshit.

Fogelberg people? I have some photos I'd like to show you, just in case they ring any bells.

And by the way, Janna, Reuters don't have an Aspen office either.

Janna St. James = lying sack of shit.

dang

2007-04-12T18:10:00.000-07:00

So it turns out that Dan Fogelberg is still battling his cancer. I can't bring myself to throw Janna the emotional cancer at him too, so looks like she's off the hook, Fogelberg-wise, for now. I don't abuse my contacts.

I'd be curious, though, if there are any people out there in Fogelberg-land who've stumbled upon this site, I'd like to hear your stories, compare notes, as it were. I of course understand anyone's reluctance to dredge up old shit, who knows how I'll feel about this several years hence. My contact info is in my profile, or feel free to leave a comment here, if you'd rather go about it that way.

Janna St. James has worn out her welcome with me. I've jettisoned any possible sympathy I might have had for her due to her persistence in continuing the charade of Jesse Jubilee James and his fake friends and family. Had it up to here.

checking in

2007-04-09T00:39:00.000-07:00

Just in case anyone's still keeping track, there's been no response from anyone in the "Jesse" camp about furnishing evidence to my suggested impartial third party that there ever was a "Jesse."

And that's the thing that made me suspicious of her, that made me want to do my own research. The fact that a normal person wouldn't react the way Janna has -- if, say, her friends confronted me and asked me for proof that someone I knew existed, even if I couldn't answer their specific questions, I would protest, or offer an alternative avenue of proof, most likely by calling someone else known to be associated with them. I would have behaved reasonably. Unless, of course, I'd been lying about the person her friends confronted me about. Then, I guess I would have barraged her with the same kind of virulence I've gotten from her since she was confronted by my friends.

Of course, it was the real Annie Martel who sealed the deal for me, telephoning me in response to a letter I overnighted her asking her a few simple questions (I don't trust the internet no more). Nope, she knows no Janna St. James. Nope, has never heard of me, certainly never communicated with me via email. Information that she's not bound by doctor/patient privilege to keep from me. Of course, this privilege, even if it were all true, would have been moot at this point anyway, because she'd already discussed "Jesse" and his friends and family at length with me in a series of emails after his "death." But, no conversations with me, at least not from the real Annie Martel, who now knows that Janna or possibly an accomplice has been impersonating her on the internet. And while the laws may be on the fuzzy side for impersonating people who don't exist, it's pretty goddamned clear on impersonating people who do exist. It's fucking illegal.

So, once again, I have to stress to those out there who believe otherwise, through Janna's prevarications, to do their own research. I do think the next time my friend Val goes to Boulder to visit her (journalist) sister, I'll meet up with her there so we can take a little drive down to the lovely town of Aspen and its environs, see what kind of responses we get from the old-timers to the packet of photos we'll bring with us. Possibly no response at all, since I don't really know where Janna lived with her first husband, and maybe she was serious about getting the rest of the pictures off of Google Images.

Hey, I wonder what Dan Fogelberg would have to say about all of this? Hmmmm. Sometimes having a couple of contacts in the music business really does come in handy.

amazing...

2007-04-04T09:30:00.000-07:00

...how the influx of vicious comments full of nonsensical allegations have ceased entirely since I've disabled the "anonymous" comment feature.

It's hard out there for an internet freak, eh, Janna Saint James?

and another thing

2007-04-03T21:38:00.000-07:00

So I've figured out that Janna St. James was motivated in part by greed, I mean, who doesn't like getting gifts, right? Especially when the gifts are hundred-dollar notebooks with skulls on them, or shiny pink barbecues, or Coach bags, or pretty glowy LED purses purchased at considerable expense from Italy. And also when the gifts are things like attention, pretty easy when you're upward of a dozen personas.

I think she spent a long time staking out the Deadwood message board before she made her presence known. I think she saw I was a soft touch after I got ripped off by a boardie, and homed in on me, hoping she too could get her mitts on some material goods from me.

I think part of her was also motivated by some sort of sick lust also. She's spent so much bandwith denying her lesbian tendencies, when not one person brought that up, that I have to assume that she's a little oversensitive about this. As a wise grownup said to me when I was a mere child, a fox smells its own hole.

And about that I say, once again, eeeeeeeeeeew.

Yeah, so I said I was done with this blog, but obviously going through all the documentation and writing an outline of the whole sordid escapade has clarified some things for me. Not to mention packing up the many hundreds of dollars of stuff purchased for "Rhys" that I'd been holding on to for almost a year, which is now going to be dropped off at Goodwill this week, along with the special medical sliding shower bench I bought specially for Janna's visit in February, so she could get in and out of the tub.

The dollars keep adding up, as do the affronts. Janna is a grotesque, not because of the size of her ass (another thing she claims she has no problems with but clearly does), but because of how fugly she is on the inside.

oh and

2007-03-31T23:41:00.000-07:00

Obviously there have been no responses to my offer to resolve this, blah blah blah blah blah.

As Shakespeare once said...

2007-03-31T21:49:00.000-07:00

...the lady doth protest too much, methinks.

But, to paraphrase an old vaudeville joke, that was no lady, that was my internet freak!

It's funny, for all Janna's blowing smoke up my ass about my motivation for being with "Jesse," when I start going through all the receipts of the things I bought for "Jesse," "Rhys," and all the friends and family associated with him, and Janna and all the friends and family associated with her, I've actually spent a ridiculous amount on all of them, which really means Janna and Janna alone. Not that I would have cared, if her intentions had been honorable. I sent "Jesse" a vast amount of gifts, and "Rhys" got his share also. I spent a massive chunk of change on their Christmas presents, as well as all the movie merchandise I sent to "Jesse," and friends. I spent close to a grand on all of the Christmas presents for Janna and her family. I'd say over those twenty months Janna St. James was pulling her con on me she got at least five grand's worth of gifts out of me.

She pisses and moans about how my gifts made her feel uncomfortable, but I never got anything returned to me, so I guess she wasn't that uncomfortable. Certainly she encouraged me at times, she sure fucking didn't dissuade me from sending the giant Christmas package to her, either this past year or the year before that. Didn't stop her from ogling the stuff I gave her upon her arrival at my house last month.

I know. I spend time and dedication and money on people I think are my friends. Go figure.

Yeah. So who's the golddigger here? Hmmmm. Enjoy all those presents, Janna.

Zol er krenken un gedenken. Gonif.

uh huh

2007-03-23T12:05:00.000-07:00

So, over a week's gone by and zero response to my offer for an impartial person to certify proof that "Jesse" existed and wasn't just an elaborate hoax concocted by a bored sick fuck.

Janna St. James = lying sack of shit.

For the record. Just in case anyone was wondering.

something for all you Googlers

2007-03-15T23:21:00.000-07:00

Click this for more enlightenment. At least it's a place to start...

Oh, all right. And this.

And here's one that says a lot.

If you poke around enough, you'll find more than a few startling similarities. I know she's asserted that someone was impersonating her, but if that's the case, then they still are, because the Janna on there is the Janna I know, and I've met her, seen the copy of her drivers license, and heard the stories from her own lying lips. So maybe she's impersonating herself. Go figure.

I guess, since she's a pretty horrible person to be, it's no wonder she's going around wanting to impersonate a dozen other fictional people.

this is stupid

2007-03-15T20:39:00.000-07:00

You know, I've been going about this all the wrong way. I write stuff and I get Janna or her Jannafestations asserting this or that with no real backup. I then try to respond to all the bitchery and psychological tomfoolery with logic while getting none in return. Just meanness and more bitchery and psychological tomfoolery. Fuckit.

Have I mentioned that I had no suspicions myself up till the day my friends got me out of the house, showed me their findings and confronted Janna? Have I mentioned that I was shocked to see all their evidence? Have I mentioned that I was shocked that Janna said absolutely nothing to change my friends' minds? They said "we know Jesse is fake and we'd like you to leave," and she said, calmly, "okay." They implored her to provide some sort of evidence that could prove them wrong. My friends love me (I'm seeing how much these days and I love them back), and they wanted to be wrong about all of this almost as much as I wanted them to be wrong, maybe more. But nothing from Janna. She couldn't provide the name of the hospital where "Jesse" stayed, but she could have done any number of things that day to show them they were wrong: she could have made any number of calls from her own cellphone, to "Annie," or "Cakey," or "Jesse's" lawyers, even "Alice" if it were just to disprove their theories. She did nothing, except to get pissed off when a friend pleaded with her "don't you have anything to say to her, about why you fucked up two years of her life?" Janna shot back, "It wasn't two years!" She started saying something else, but then shut herself up.

It's all on video. Maybe I'll post it here on this blog so everyone else can see it too and judge for themselves. It made me sick.

In any case, all I wanted was proof that my friends were wrong, that Janna was really a good and true friend. I did my own research, I talked to investigators, I got in touch with the real Annie Martel, who, despite whatever doctor/patient privileges there are, asserted that she'd never spoken to me via email, ever, and that she knew nobody called Jesse and nobody called Janna Saint James. So while doctor/patient privileges may indeed be in place when it comes to "Jesse" (although I'll be asking my own therapist about that, you betcha) - I don't think it would stop Annie from telling me if she'd ever contacted me, and it certainly wouldn't have stopped her from confirming knowing Janna, since all they were were bestest friends, all the way back to them good ol' John Denver days.

My point here being, the burden of proof at this point is on Janna, not me. The only proof I've been able to dig up is all stacked up against her. Janna lied about her life, she lied about the people in the photographs, she lied about ever being associated with the Associated Press. And now all I get is hostility from her and associated Jannafestations, telling me that I'm the crazy one. This is it, folks. Enough with that crap.

So let's do this. Since I really truly don't care what "Jesse's" real name is, and since I really couldn't give two shits about getting anything material from him, never did, I've got a proposition. Never mind protestations from people who claim to be real but hey sorry, I just can't fucking believe it. Not 'lest I've seen you and touched you and know certain facts to be actual facts. So cyber-ciphers, let it lay. I shan't respond to you anymore.

My proposition: I will provide an impartial witness: lawyer, law enforcement officer, or better yet, how about the editor who wanted to commission the piece on Janna for that NY paper? Journalists never break their word, right? The witness will take an oath not to divulge "Jesse's" real name to anyone, specially not me, ever. They will sit down with the executor of "Jesse's" estate, or with Annie Martel, who will show them certified documentation proving his existence, proof of their own existence, and aforementioned witness will sign an affidavit swearing they saw documentation proving that "Jesse" existed. Then, I'll apologize, take an ad out in whatever publication Janna and "Jesse's" family choose, and I'll delete all these blogs and apologize every day in that space for the rest of the year.

This'll have the added benefit of cancelling out any newspaper pieces being researched and written, since obviously an editor wouldn't want to print something that was untrue, right?

Can't get fairer than that, can I? If nobody wants to even come forward with this compromise, where I gain nothing but proof of his existence so I can put this to bed once and for all and get on with my life, and "Jesse's" "family" and "friends" gain peace of mind and are shut of me forever.

Till then, please excuse me if I continue to think that Janna St. James is a lying, devious sack of shit, and post my opinions about her and the rest of this fuckedupness as and when I see fucking fit.

And until I get this offer, just shut. the. fuck. up. And kish mir im tuchus.

hey, Anonymous assholes

2007-03-14T09:21:00.000-07:00

It says a lot that you can't say who you are. Probably because you're one of Janna's many personalities. My bad for forgetting to change the comments settings default. Now, only registered users can comment. So, by all means, Anonymous people, please regurgitate your tripe under your registered names. Otherwise, go fuck yourselves.

I was actually in the process of responding to the comments, point by lame point, but then I realized that it really is just Janna still trying to put forward her case, whether personally or by proxy.

So, really, go fuck yourself(ves). I'm done playing.

so where do I go?

2007-03-12T22:47:00.000-07:00

I'm at a place where, my therapist says, I'm reacting the way most victims do. So, please forgive my splenic ventings, but, y'know, Janna's probably been prepared for exposure for some time. I can't believe she didn't know this was coming, so now she's lying in a Procrustean bed of her own making. I'm sure she's as comfortable as she can be given the circumstances. At least she has a vintage quilt to wrap around her knees, the one I bought for Rhys's fifth birthday.

For me, however, this revelation was a roundhouse punch, and I'm still reeling on occasion. So, I've been reshuffling, but with reshuffling comes insight, for this navel-gazer. Ahem.

I've gotta say, the last few weeks have been interesting. I will take stock of my friends' opinions more seriously from here on. And friends, I know I do go on, so you have my permission to tell me to shut the fuck up. I might not listen, but maybe I need to be told more often anyway.

This was gonna go on the other blog, but fakey cakey is the place where fiction goes, and since this story was borne of so much fiction (at least on Janna's end), I wanna put it here.

These last few weeks I've had about a third of Janna's fictional contingent weighing in on what a horrible person I am because I, well, I don't know. She throws the word "vindictive" around as though it's some sort of bad thing. I did label myself vindictive long ago, because I know I can be, when the occasion calls for it. I can be creatively horrible to people I feel deserve horribleness aimed at them. So, I'm horrible because I called Janna a sick cunt in an email I sent her, and in public fora. I'm horrible because my friends who care about me confronted Janna, told her they knew Jesse was fake, that she'd made the whole thing up, and could she pack up her shit and get out of my house. They're the ones who told her not to contact me, that if I wanted a dialogue I would get in touch with her. They're the ones who asked her if she had any evidence, or if she had something to say to me. She refused to offer up anything. But okay, I'm horrible because my friends care, they gave me evidence and she gave me nothing.

So, angry at me why? I did get in touch with her and I did ask her to quit it, and I suppose in a way she has by disappearing from her blog. I do know that "Cakey" has another blog, a private one, so she hasn't discontinued the fantasy at all. But, at this point, whatever.

In the past few weeks, Janna St. James has, either through her imaginary aliases or as herself, usually quoting friends of hers (because Janna's character is always a very sweet, kind, too-trusting soul who'd never hurt a fly [right, Norman?]), spoken about what a horrid person I am. She's thrown up incredibly personal things about me in a revelatory manner, as though I'd never written or spoken about them myself to my friends and various other readers of my blog. Nothing she tossed out about my actions over the past twenty months was an untruth, but nor was it a hidden truth.

Her speculations about my motivations, what I did in my life or plan to do about my life from now on, well now, that's another story. That wacko stuff she cooked up about that, well, that's just straight out of the Julia Moon soap opera chapbook. It's funny, now that I know it's all a lie, I can see the similarities in her scrawlings, or maybe it's just that all her personas are blurring together forming a haphazard crazyquilt (emphasis on the crazy) in a desperate attempt at damage control. And the dissembling about her total lack of knowledge how to put my comments on another blogentry, as though something as simple as cut-and-paste is alien to her, it worked well enough when she'd send me snippets of Adventuregirl's emails to her. Lie piled upon lie piled upon lie, even when unnecessary, she continues to fabricate even her own persona. Kind, benign, totally technologically inept.

Where am I going with this? I'm just trying to get through the hurt and the anger and the, I dunno, gobsmackedness? Apologies for redundancy, you can stop reading anytime you like. I just have nowhere else to put it, and perhaps her reading enough of it will push her toward the doors of the nearest psychiatric facility. Ohwait. She's not reading my blogs. I forgot. Ah well, no hope of her saving herself, then. Perhaps "Alice" or "Cakey" will tell her to read it. Or who knows, maybe "Jesse" will rise from the dead and leave a message for me right here, hell, it's almost Easter, isn't it?

I was going through all the stuff I'd bought for "Jesse" and his family and friends that hadn't had the chance to be sent, sifting things out in to different piles (Goodwill, and foster care facilities for the kid's stuff, fuck knows what I'll be doing with all the pirate shit I bought for Janna that she didn't take with her when she left my house. Anyone want some pirate shit?). I opened the box I'd put together for "Rhys" and was holding onto since its return from Spain in November (USPS gets through, but not FedEx, hmmm). Mozart action figures because he loved "Mokzark," Lush bath bombs because his daddy loved them, little candles with wild animal pictures on them because I knew he liked giraffes, a little Buddha statue, a wobbly rubbery translucent dinosaur ring with flashing LEDs inside it, a smashed Pike's Peak penny because his daddy's most treasured items were smashed coins his deceased brother flattened on the train tracks when they were kids. Other stuff too. And a necklace for his mama, "Krista," a jingle ball lariat, one I'd bought for myself in NYC and reluctantly packed up to send to her instead because her birthday had been in July and July had been a really shit month for all of us.

All of this stuff was packed into a shopping bag that had a picture of a fire truck on it, and when you pressed the edge of the bag, a little red LED flashed and a siren sounded. Because I was worried the bag would go off in transit and that it'd be delayed by Homeland Security, I wrapped the bag and its contents securely, and packed it carefully in a bankers box full of tons of poofy styrofoam peanuts, and scattered craploads of sparkly foil confetti to make it seem more festive. I taped it thoroughly from top to bottom with colorful checkerboard shipping tape, leaving a blank space top center for the address, and wrote HAPPY BIRTHDAY RHYS in English and Spanish in various places on the checkerboard tape.

So, I wore the jingle ball lariat today, my puppy seems to love to chew on the balls (teething), and as puppy was gnawing away happily on my lap, I was thinking of all the stuff I got for everyone, from "Jesse" to Janna to "Cakey" and the rest of the imaginary bunch. It's not the money. Not one of my friends would ever say that it's about the money with me. But the thought, the care, the effort, and the chunks of my heart that went into it, I'm galled by that.

And the way Janna has conducted herself these last few weeks, the shit she's said, the lies she's still persisting in perpetuating, her armchair analysis of my actions (especially the golddigging aspect, since I earn more than I need when I work, and have never looked for a sugar daddy), and I can easily say now that this woman utterly disgusts me, on just about every level there is. She is a bottomless pit of devious psychological tricks.

I believed there was a man, with friends and loved ones around him who often didn't make the right decisions. I believed he had a therapist. I believed he had a son. I believed it all. And all of it was a lie. I'm not sure what it was that was making Janna cry when we were sitting there talking about Jesse in the house at Ojo Caliente, but I was crying at the loss of a beautiful man. A beautiful, fictional man, it turns out. Who were you crying for, Janna? John? Yourself?

So, I'm a big dummy for my wholesale belief in all of this, but the buck stops there for me. Janna Saint James bears the brunt of this, and let's just assume for a moment that I am at least 99-44/100% correct in my assessment of this situation, that Janna manufactured the whole thing. WTF does she have to be angry with me about? Because I found her out and have exposed her in the medium she works in? Yeah, I guess. Because I called her a cunt? Well, like she said, it takes one to know one.

Let's say for a moment I'm wrong about all of it, and that Janna really is protecting "Jesse," or whatever his name really is. So, this guy lied to me about his name and the name of everyone else around him, including the Irish side of his family. Okay. Even first names? Uh, okay. Those are lots of complicated email addresses then.

And it's allegedly because I'm a golddigger because I want something of his that I feel I'm entitled to. Despite being sucked into this drama for almost two years, I'm not a total nimrod. I worked for attorneys for over a decade. There's not a court in the world that would have awarded me anything. I had no claim. I didn't need to know my law to know that. And if I was such a golddigger, why was her first tack to criticize me for having no intention of ever marrying "Jesse?" I got that from "Alice" and "Cakey" and I think from her "daughter" as well (I can't remember, I've dumped the emails off my computer, but it was more than one comment about it). Surely if I was angling for his money, "Jesse" wouldn't have had to implore me to rush my divorce so I could marry him so his "father" wouldn't think he was going to hell. So, the golddigging shit doesn't really wash either. I was hopeful that "Jesse's" wish for a communal living situation at his "grandfather's" ranch would work out, and that I could spend some of my time in Colorado being amongst his friends, but that was a situation that Janna put forward, it was nothing that "Jesse" had spoken about to me. And again, I didn't really expect it to work out, fractious factions making the situation impossible.

To recap this possible reality: I was given proclamations of love by a man who didn't trust me enough to give me his real last name, or the real names of any of his friends or family. His friends all worked in sync and went along with whatever names "Jesse" told them to use, including his six-year-old son. I wanted his money, but obviously not enough to speed the situation along the road to marriage, despite his begging me to hurry up and start divorce proceedings. Nobutwait, what I really am is an internet freak that has set my sights toward destroying Janna. But for what reason? Because she says I don't want to be ignored. Because she says I'm an attention-seeking whore. Well, with that, I am what she made me. I wrote about "Jesse" in my blog because he encouraged me to, it made him go all squishy inside when I'd gush about my boyfriend, and he got a secret thrill at the way it tweaked all those other delusional women who were stalking him and didn't know how to take no for an answer.

I dunno. I would have a hard time believing all that, even if I didn't know I was 100% sure.

So here another nugget. I tracked down Annie Martel, the real Annie. I asked her about being Jesse's therapist and Janna's bestest friend. She don't know a Jesse. Don't know a Janna. No idea what I was talking about. And, I quote, "I don't think I want to know."

Amen. And hallelujah. Smart lady.

Of course, now Janna will just say that Jesse just made up the name of his therapist and that it really was just some other person, some other therapist wife of some other dead popstar. But there was so much backstory involved in so much of it, Janna worked the shit out of it. Too much to change it now to make it believable, at least to me. It probably works with other folks that don't have all that backstory.

So, I have to again reiterate. Janna lied her ass off to me from June 1, 2005 straight through February 20, 2007. And beyond, really, since she's still lying. I have a right to be angry. Vindictive? Damn straight I am. I have a right to be disgusted, at my own gullibility, sure, but mostly at her. I have a right to not feel sympathy for her illness, because she's fucked me up with stress and god-knows-what, for pretty much the full twenty months, and now beyond, as I struggle with the whys and what-the-fucks now. Plus, she's not copping to it, which leads me to conclude that's she's more in her right mind than she'd like me to believe.

It's a toss-up. Crazier than a shithouse rat, or just a miserable, lonely housewife full of soap opera stories and malice to spare? Which would you rather be? I guess her existence is wretched enough, since she's one or the other. That doesn't keep me from being angry, though. Not. By. A. Long. Shot.

I've packed up all the shit "Jesse" and the rest gave me, to get it out of my face. I'm not gonna toss or sell any of it just yet, in case I need it at a later date for legal reasons. If Janna wants to swap it for all the shit I sent "Jesse" and everyone else, I'd do that.

Did I say everything I wanted to say? I dunno. I guess I have for now. I can't promise I won't be back, but I can promise that I hope I won't. This isn't fun for me, you know.

bringing the truth back home

2007-03-09T09:37:00.000-08:00

Sigh. You're boring me now. There's nothing of me you can expose that I didn't already. It was all there in my blog, in my conversations with friends, online and off. But that's neither here nor there. This isn't about me. It's about you.

You keep trying to turn it back onto me, but the facts are this: You are the guilty one. You are the one who made all of this up. You are the one who manufactured personas. You manufactured Jesse. You manufactured Alice. You manufactured Annie. You manufactured Cakey. You manufactured Pavlo. You manufactured Rhys. And more. Either alone, or with help. And if alone, well, eeeeeew is all I have to say, and get yourself a fucking day job.

By the way, I know you've been reading my blog. In fact, not only reading it, but coming back to it over and over with alarming frequency.

"Jesse's" mental illness was explained to me, and he seemed like a kind man beset upon by society's ills, who only wanted to live his life but was endlessly persecuted in circumstances scenarios beyond his control. Too bad, Janna. In another life you could have been a writer.

That mental illness I have tolerance for because it's someone who recognizes their problem and is trying against all odds to overcome it. The kind of mental illness that is called Munchausen's by Internet (or something, I can't remember what my friend called it), that I have less tolerance for, because especially in your case, boy oh boy, you don't recognize your problem, and you're not trying to overcome jack shit.

However, I think I've been relatively kind to you up till now. I've given you the chance to fess up before I took legal action, just because I feel like I deserve answers.

You want questions, here are some questions: Who are the people in the pictures, besides your husband and your daughter? Who is Julia? Who is Rhys? Who is Krista? Who is Pavlo? Were you saying, obliquely as usual, that you got all those photos from Google Images? And yeah, I'm kicking myself because I taught "Jesse" how to use it. Who received the package I sent to Rhys in Spain? Who is wearing all that movie merchandise I spent oodles on for Jesse and his friends and family? Most importantly, why the fuck did you do this? Was it just a trifle that went out of control? Is that why "Jesse" kept trying to drive me away? Is that why you would push me to break up with him at any small sign of doubt in my mind?

Oh, and were you chuckling to yourself while watching Notes On A Scandal because you realized how small-change Dame Judi's character was compared to you?

So, still, because I was being kind to a nutcase, because I didn't want you embarrassed publicly in national newspapers, I quashed an investigative piece in a NYC newspaper, where they were going to do a story on this whole thing, printing your full name, location, and your photo. You may have told me you worked at AP, but you know I know writers. You've met some of them. Maybe it's not too late to tell them to go ahead with it, because I can't make you go the fuck away, and you're clearly not going to be explaining anything to me anytime soon.

All I wanted was for you to leave me alone, which means disappear from my radar, which means close down your stupid blog and stop pretending that Jesse exists and that everything you told me was true, when really little of it was/is, even about yourself. But you have to keep dithering on about it, as though you were betrayed by my sense of betrayal in all this.

I would really like you to see a psychiatrist, but I don't think any lawyer in the world would take my case on for simply banning you from possessing a computer in your house, giving me a public apology/explanation, and serious mental counseling, so I think it will have to come down to suing you for money.

Brace yourself. I really hope your family and friends do know about this.

And, by the way, if it turns out I'm wrong about all this and you provide law enforcement with a certified copy of Jesse's death certificate and other proof, such as full names and contact details of all the other players involved and they corroborate your story, I'll apologize publicly. But the phrase containing the words "snowball" and "hell" come to mind.

Oh, one more thing. I never said I wasn't a cunt.

goddamnit

2007-03-06T00:23:00.000-08:00

So, people I've never spoken to before who've written to me, apologies, but I just can't write back. Just. can't. do. it.

It's beyond disconcerting to realize how distrustful I am of everyone now, guess I've got that demented cunt to blame.

Do I sound hostile? Well, wouldn't you be if you realized that a piece of you you took for granted was suddenly disappeared? Like losing a finger, say, or maybe even the whole hand. My trust in people is gone gone gone. Hostile, yeah. Even, or maybe especially, knowing the reason why. Who knows what else will go missing? I can't fucking wait.

So, those of you who are real, apologies, but I'll bet you're the ones who'll understand. The ones who aren't, the ones who are Janna Saint James, the sick twist who changed me, or her friends or known associates, please go fuck yourself. Repeatedly. I've decided I don't believe for a second that any of her local friends or family know about her twisted double life, or that she's getting help. I think she's still reading this blog and still living her fucked up chupacabra life. Oh, and thanks for the postcard from Australia, "Aidan." Nice fucking touch, asshole. Get off on it while you can, Esmerelda, because I'm getting myself gone from this fucking internets, and you'll be alone on your fucking mythical prairies with your fucking moon and your fucking prairie dogs and your fucking dulce fucking suenos. And you can just shit yourself till the statute of fucking limitations runs out on this, you oblique hypocritical bitch, because I just ain't made up my mind about legal action yet.

So fucking there.