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.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
confusion, misinterpretation, and other whatthefucks
1. The copies of all the various blogs I'm linking to were the actual blogs of other people, or, in this case, other person, being that Janna wrote most of them: "Jesse's" blog, "Alice's" blog, most of the "Jesse" tribute blog, "Cakey's" blog, the "AuTeam" blog. And of course her own. It's real easy to save a blog page and then re-post it with any changes you wish to make, or at least it is when you have friends that are geeks to show you how easy it is. I just saved them to have them, at first for sentimental reasons, in the case of "Jesse's" blog, because he kept deleting them, and after the intervention as a way of keeping track of the lies Janna was spewing. I still have the original unadulterated copies, which are timestamped as proof that they have gone undoctored, should I change my mind again about pressing charges. Which I might, depending on how much Janna and her Jannafestations (known in internetland as "sock puppets" - see, I have learned something new this month!) want to continue the denials.
2. And because I know Janna Saint James is likely to start again with her bullshit protestations of innocence and claims that everyone involved with "Jesse" is in fear for their lives and livelihood because I'm allegedly such a psycho, what the hell. I renew the offer for Janna to offer her "proof" to an impartial third party. I'll hire an attorney to depose Janna and two other people who have proof of "Jesse's" existence. The "executor" of "Jesse's" estate would be preferred, and one of "Jesse's" relatives. Birth and death certificates must be furnished, as well as government-issue photo ID, including but not limited to drivers license, passport, the ID he was given by the National Forest Service, Associated Press, and any other professional organizations "Jesse" might have been involved with. Janna or "Jesse's" family must also provide copies of "Jesse's" cellphone bills, "Alice's" cellphone bills, the rental agreement for the PO Box in Denver, and "Jesse's" emancipation papers, in the possession of the "executors." Copies of newspaper articles written by "Jesse" prior to 9/11 should be furnished as well.
If necessary, the attorney will despatch a representative to Colorado to speak with people who knew "Jesse," including but not limited to the firemen he served with, the people at the Associated Press office in Denver or wherever it is Janna is claiming that she worked as an editor with "Jesse" as her crack writer. Said representative would also visit "Jesse's" ranch and meet with "Cakey," who apparently is very hurt that I think he doesn't exist.
And what the hell, the attorney should also depose Janna's mother, husband and daughter, again sending representatives to whatever locale her daughter has run off to to escape her insane mother. Janna should also furnish the court documents in her case against the Mexican chappies who raped her, beat her, and left her for dead in a cornfield. She told me two of them were convicted and the other one ran for the border. And the European hospital records for her reconstructive surgery after the brutal rape, as long as we're at it. Oh, and that Ted Bundy article she wrote also. And the medical records from her frequent visits to the Mayo Clinic.
I will pay all expenses. Aforementioned attorney will take an oath not to disclose the "real" name of "Jesse" or his "family," but will issue a notarized statement confirming that all documents requested were seen, and that the proof is incontrovertible. And then I will apologize, pull this blog from existence, and I will ask Josh and the LA Weekly to please issue a retraction.
Till then, all of Janna's claims are heaps of bullshit.
3. And for good measure, for those of you who don't want to go so far back, here's the blog of the woman "Julia," who was stalking "Jesse" in Colorado.
4. Thanks but no thanks, Billy the Kid. I'm actually seeing someone at the moment, who really truly exists (I swear!). But for making me laugh, I'll send you an iPod anyway.
2. And because I know Janna Saint James is likely to start again with her bullshit protestations of innocence and claims that everyone involved with "Jesse" is in fear for their lives and livelihood because I'm allegedly such a psycho, what the hell. I renew the offer for Janna to offer her "proof" to an impartial third party. I'll hire an attorney to depose Janna and two other people who have proof of "Jesse's" existence. The "executor" of "Jesse's" estate would be preferred, and one of "Jesse's" relatives. Birth and death certificates must be furnished, as well as government-issue photo ID, including but not limited to drivers license, passport, the ID he was given by the National Forest Service, Associated Press, and any other professional organizations "Jesse" might have been involved with. Janna or "Jesse's" family must also provide copies of "Jesse's" cellphone bills, "Alice's" cellphone bills, the rental agreement for the PO Box in Denver, and "Jesse's" emancipation papers, in the possession of the "executors." Copies of newspaper articles written by "Jesse" prior to 9/11 should be furnished as well.
If necessary, the attorney will despatch a representative to Colorado to speak with people who knew "Jesse," including but not limited to the firemen he served with, the people at the Associated Press office in Denver or wherever it is Janna is claiming that she worked as an editor with "Jesse" as her crack writer. Said representative would also visit "Jesse's" ranch and meet with "Cakey," who apparently is very hurt that I think he doesn't exist.
And what the hell, the attorney should also depose Janna's mother, husband and daughter, again sending representatives to whatever locale her daughter has run off to to escape her insane mother. Janna should also furnish the court documents in her case against the Mexican chappies who raped her, beat her, and left her for dead in a cornfield. She told me two of them were convicted and the other one ran for the border. And the European hospital records for her reconstructive surgery after the brutal rape, as long as we're at it. Oh, and that Ted Bundy article she wrote also. And the medical records from her frequent visits to the Mayo Clinic.
I will pay all expenses. Aforementioned attorney will take an oath not to disclose the "real" name of "Jesse" or his "family," but will issue a notarized statement confirming that all documents requested were seen, and that the proof is incontrovertible. And then I will apologize, pull this blog from existence, and I will ask Josh and the LA Weekly to please issue a retraction.
Till then, all of Janna's claims are heaps of bullshit.
3. And for good measure, for those of you who don't want to go so far back, here's the blog of the woman "Julia," who was stalking "Jesse" in Colorado.
4. Thanks but no thanks, Billy the Kid. I'm actually seeing someone at the moment, who really truly exists (I swear!). But for making me laugh, I'll send you an iPod anyway.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
much LOLZ were had by all
1. No, Josh does not want to fuck me. He's a famousass screenwriter, who has his pick of many lithe leggy gals, but focuses on one, who ain't me.
2. Enough with the fucking panties already. And people think I'm weird. The amount of talk and obsession that's going on around the internets about the panty-sniffing is ludicrous, and the ones that are pretending to be inteleckshul while pontificating are the funniest, and most telling. Oooooer, missus, we do love a bit of panty-sniffing, don't we? For the record: the articles of clothing we swapped were favorite shirts - I sent "Jesse" an old sweatshirt of mine so beat up the sleeves were shredded, and he sent me an old Tommy Hilfiger green cotton knit pullover and a really ugly Banana Republic shirt. It was more for sentimentality and comfort than for sniffing, although fuck knows what Janna did with mine. I didn't sniff "Jesse's" shirts, although I did wear the green one to bed and cried all over it the night he shot himself, and the night he died. I also did send "Jesse" washed but new American Apparel boyshorts, as a joke, so he could open the package in front of his ex-wife "Krista," who was trying to get back together with him, we thought it'd drive her off for sure. Ohyeah, and I also sent "Jesse" a pair of brand new copper lame' boyshorts, which he allegedly wore under his alleged jeans when he did a gig with his friend "Cakey's" alleged band. I do not now, nor have I ever, possessed a pair of BVDs or other male undergarments that purportedly belonged to "Jesse Jubilee James," for the purpose of sniffing or other prurient acts. I can't speak for Janna. Alles klar?
Sheesh.
2. Enough with the fucking panties already. And people think I'm weird. The amount of talk and obsession that's going on around the internets about the panty-sniffing is ludicrous, and the ones that are pretending to be inteleckshul while pontificating are the funniest, and most telling. Oooooer, missus, we do love a bit of panty-sniffing, don't we? For the record: the articles of clothing we swapped were favorite shirts - I sent "Jesse" an old sweatshirt of mine so beat up the sleeves were shredded, and he sent me an old Tommy Hilfiger green cotton knit pullover and a really ugly Banana Republic shirt. It was more for sentimentality and comfort than for sniffing, although fuck knows what Janna did with mine. I didn't sniff "Jesse's" shirts, although I did wear the green one to bed and cried all over it the night he shot himself, and the night he died. I also did send "Jesse" washed but new American Apparel boyshorts, as a joke, so he could open the package in front of his ex-wife "Krista," who was trying to get back together with him, we thought it'd drive her off for sure. Ohyeah, and I also sent "Jesse" a pair of brand new copper lame' boyshorts, which he allegedly wore under his alleged jeans when he did a gig with his friend "Cakey's" alleged band. I do not now, nor have I ever, possessed a pair of BVDs or other male undergarments that purportedly belonged to "Jesse Jubilee James," for the purpose of sniffing or other prurient acts. I can't speak for Janna. Alles klar?
Sheesh.
Monday, October 15, 2007
biting the hand that doesn't feed me
I've been doing a lot of reading, in between having a life. Spending too much time thinking about this again, at least more time than I'd like to be spending. Score twentyzillion for Janna Saint James. But fuck me, this shit's been dredged up again, and it is a part of my life, unfortunate though it may be, and when you hear from friends (and enemies) about the fucking article, it's like the scab's been picked raw.
It's interesting to read what complete strangers have to say about this: it's real, it's fake, "Jesse" exists but faked his own death and Janna is covering for him (hey, whose soap opera is this?), it's Janna's fault, it's my fault, it's society's fault, it's Josh's fault, it's the internet's fault (I'm sure a tighty righty somewhere will blame Al Gore for this). Whatevs. Opinions are like assholes, remember? Armchair analysts will pontificate till the llamas come home (what's the internet obsession with llamas, anyway? someone please to explain).
I've covered this before, but let's assume "Jesse" is real, some guy friend of Janna's who wanted to extricate himself from this "relationship" we had. Why was he imploring me to get a divorce right up until three days before he croaked? Okay, he's mentally unbalanced, who knows what a bipolar person is likely to do, right? But faking a death? Janna and his "ex-wife" and "friends" and "therapist" and six-year old "SON" all still talking to me for seven months afterward, all pretending "Jesse" is dead? Are they ALL insane? Janna going on a VACATION with me on "Jesse's" birthday and crying real tears in front of me, missing him? Uh, okay, sure. Contributing to a tribute blog for the not-really-dead man in their midst? Janna's coming to LA to visit me? Okay, they're all fucking nuts. But Janna was their frontman, then, by her choice, and even if this is the case it still ain't goddamned acceptable.
And why did "Jesse's" sister "Alice" send me that photo of "Jesse" and "Rhys" that was titled JohnJessicaVista.jpg? John was Janna's deceased husband, Jessica her daughter. "Alice" despised Janna, what the fuck would she be doing with a 25-year-old photo of Janna's first husband and baby? And why did they look EXACTLY like the other pictures I'd seen up to that point of "Jesse" and "Rhys?" (I dunno, but I'll bet Janna will have a faaaabulous explanation for that!) So let's go with Janna's future explanation about how she allowed "Jesse" to use photos of her dead husband and pretend they were him, and that she and "Alice" are really thick as thieves, or that she was at "Jesse's" ranch and left that photo in their scanner. Let's instead turn to things that cain't lie. Technology. Funny what looking at the headers of the eleventy-billion emails turned up when I had geeks who could interpret all of that for me. Amazing that emails from "Jesse's" friend "Pavlo" in Argentina, his brother "Aidan" (I am getting SO fucking tired of quotation marks) in goddamned Africa, his sister "Branna" in Eire, emails from "Jesse" in Paki-fucking-stan, all bounced from IP addresses originating in -- say it with me, kiddies -- Illinois. Christ, there was an email from "Jesse" in Colorado mere minutes before I got one from Janna in Batavia, and they had the SAME. EXACT. HEADER. That's some fucking coinkydink, wouldn't you say? So, maybe "Jesse" did exist, and all his friends and family exist, and maybe they all live in Batavia, Illinois. Peyton Place, watch the fuck out, you've got some seriousass competition. But hey, maybe you're right. Maybe "Jesse" just wanted to be shut of me. I guess some folks just don't know how to say goodbye.
Back to the matter at hand. Those armchair analysts.
What I really find astonishing is how many people seem to believe the article is accurate, and whether or not they criticize me for being either stupid, in denial, delusional, or all of the above, they seem to think that I enjoy playing the victim, that I'm getting off on this because of this blog, because I'm outlining what Janna St. James did to me in detail (i.e. "airing [my] dirty laundry", as someone out there on the internuts said). Now, let me get this straight, before I put you in Bill O'Reilly's corner. You think I enjoy this? You think I'm not sick to the eyeballs of all this crap? You think I don't have a moment (nay, many moments) every day where I just want to pull this whole fucking shit festival off the interwebs? You rationalize that my damage was negligible, she didn't do that much to me, aside from fuck with my head, screw up my capacity to do my job to my best ability, make me sick with grief for months, and accept thousands of dollars worth of gifts under extremely false pretenses? 'Scuse me, but what's your fucking definition of damage? You think I should just chalk it up to experience, shut the fuck up and slink away and let Janna do what she thinks she does best, give other people not as smart as any of you (no sirreeeeee) headfuck after headfuck, cajole gifts and love out of people until she drops dead, and perhaps beyond, depending on how many people (if any) are part of her coterie?
Who the FUCK are you people? Are you the same people who think if a woman dresses provocatively and gets raped that she was asking for it? So, because I was trusting, because I just assumed that the guy I was talking to on the phone for a year (whose phone number I had), his sister who I also talked to (whose phone number I also had), his many friends, his ex-wife, his child, his therapist, and the bitch Janna, who was real, to add to the confusion, because I believed all that and was taken for a seriousass ride, because I was strafed and humiliated and headfucked to the nth degree, I should at least have the dignity to keep my anger and pain to myself? It's fucknuts like you who keep victims from stepping into the light and shouting at the top of their lungs I AM AS MAD AS HELL AND I'M NOT GOING TO TAKE IT ANYMORE. (apologies to the late Messrs. Chayefsky and Finch)
I will not go gentle into this good night. FUCK no. I don't neeeeed your sympathy. I don't want it. What I do want is for Janna St. James to nip it in the fucking bud, and for any other online scumbags to have second thoughts before running a scam on someone, because some of us will fight back. Janna St. James will find it fucking difficult to pull this shit on anyone else, if I have anything to say about it. Victims should have a voice, and they should goddamned well not be afraid to use it.
It's interesting to read what complete strangers have to say about this: it's real, it's fake, "Jesse" exists but faked his own death and Janna is covering for him (hey, whose soap opera is this?), it's Janna's fault, it's my fault, it's society's fault, it's Josh's fault, it's the internet's fault (I'm sure a tighty righty somewhere will blame Al Gore for this). Whatevs. Opinions are like assholes, remember? Armchair analysts will pontificate till the llamas come home (what's the internet obsession with llamas, anyway? someone please to explain).
I've covered this before, but let's assume "Jesse" is real, some guy friend of Janna's who wanted to extricate himself from this "relationship" we had. Why was he imploring me to get a divorce right up until three days before he croaked? Okay, he's mentally unbalanced, who knows what a bipolar person is likely to do, right? But faking a death? Janna and his "ex-wife" and "friends" and "therapist" and six-year old "SON" all still talking to me for seven months afterward, all pretending "Jesse" is dead? Are they ALL insane? Janna going on a VACATION with me on "Jesse's" birthday and crying real tears in front of me, missing him? Uh, okay, sure. Contributing to a tribute blog for the not-really-dead man in their midst? Janna's coming to LA to visit me? Okay, they're all fucking nuts. But Janna was their frontman, then, by her choice, and even if this is the case it still ain't goddamned acceptable.
And why did "Jesse's" sister "Alice" send me that photo of "Jesse" and "Rhys" that was titled JohnJessicaVista.jpg? John was Janna's deceased husband, Jessica her daughter. "Alice" despised Janna, what the fuck would she be doing with a 25-year-old photo of Janna's first husband and baby? And why did they look EXACTLY like the other pictures I'd seen up to that point of "Jesse" and "Rhys?" (I dunno, but I'll bet Janna will have a faaaabulous explanation for that!) So let's go with Janna's future explanation about how she allowed "Jesse" to use photos of her dead husband and pretend they were him, and that she and "Alice" are really thick as thieves, or that she was at "Jesse's" ranch and left that photo in their scanner. Let's instead turn to things that cain't lie. Technology. Funny what looking at the headers of the eleventy-billion emails turned up when I had geeks who could interpret all of that for me. Amazing that emails from "Jesse's" friend "Pavlo" in Argentina, his brother "Aidan" (I am getting SO fucking tired of quotation marks) in goddamned Africa, his sister "Branna" in Eire, emails from "Jesse" in Paki-fucking-stan, all bounced from IP addresses originating in -- say it with me, kiddies -- Illinois. Christ, there was an email from "Jesse" in Colorado mere minutes before I got one from Janna in Batavia, and they had the SAME. EXACT. HEADER. That's some fucking coinkydink, wouldn't you say? So, maybe "Jesse" did exist, and all his friends and family exist, and maybe they all live in Batavia, Illinois. Peyton Place, watch the fuck out, you've got some seriousass competition. But hey, maybe you're right. Maybe "Jesse" just wanted to be shut of me. I guess some folks just don't know how to say goodbye.
Back to the matter at hand. Those armchair analysts.
What I really find astonishing is how many people seem to believe the article is accurate, and whether or not they criticize me for being either stupid, in denial, delusional, or all of the above, they seem to think that I enjoy playing the victim, that I'm getting off on this because of this blog, because I'm outlining what Janna St. James did to me in detail (i.e. "airing [my] dirty laundry", as someone out there on the internuts said). Now, let me get this straight, before I put you in Bill O'Reilly's corner. You think I enjoy this? You think I'm not sick to the eyeballs of all this crap? You think I don't have a moment (nay, many moments) every day where I just want to pull this whole fucking shit festival off the interwebs? You rationalize that my damage was negligible, she didn't do that much to me, aside from fuck with my head, screw up my capacity to do my job to my best ability, make me sick with grief for months, and accept thousands of dollars worth of gifts under extremely false pretenses? 'Scuse me, but what's your fucking definition of damage? You think I should just chalk it up to experience, shut the fuck up and slink away and let Janna do what she thinks she does best, give other people not as smart as any of you (no sirreeeeee) headfuck after headfuck, cajole gifts and love out of people until she drops dead, and perhaps beyond, depending on how many people (if any) are part of her coterie?
Who the FUCK are you people? Are you the same people who think if a woman dresses provocatively and gets raped that she was asking for it? So, because I was trusting, because I just assumed that the guy I was talking to on the phone for a year (whose phone number I had), his sister who I also talked to (whose phone number I also had), his many friends, his ex-wife, his child, his therapist, and the bitch Janna, who was real, to add to the confusion, because I believed all that and was taken for a seriousass ride, because I was strafed and humiliated and headfucked to the nth degree, I should at least have the dignity to keep my anger and pain to myself? It's fucknuts like you who keep victims from stepping into the light and shouting at the top of their lungs I AM AS MAD AS HELL AND I'M NOT GOING TO TAKE IT ANYMORE. (apologies to the late Messrs. Chayefsky and Finch)
I will not go gentle into this good night. FUCK no. I don't neeeeed your sympathy. I don't want it. What I do want is for Janna St. James to nip it in the fucking bud, and for any other online scumbags to have second thoughts before running a scam on someone, because some of us will fight back. Janna St. James will find it fucking difficult to pull this shit on anyone else, if I have anything to say about it. Victims should have a voice, and they should goddamned well not be afraid to use it.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
well, stomp on frogs and shove a crowbar up my nose
I'll be goddamned. Directed to a place called the Wayback Machine, I did a search for archipelagoarts and found a page from back in 2004. Blow me down, if that ain't a baby photo of "Jesse" top row, third from the left. Same baby as the one on the August 5 entry from "Alice" on the tribute blog, no?
laughing at me, not with me
I am not sure, but hope I've made it clear, that from a more detatched perspective, I'm still able to see the humor in all this, even though I'm the asshole that lots of folks are laughing at. I totally see your point(s).
OMGWTFLLAMAS!!!! indeed. (by the by, the Llama School song by Sifl & Olly is one of my favorites, so that should add to the hilarity)
My point being, when entrenched in the middle of such a duplicitous crazyquilt, it's sometimes hard to see the big picture.
I'd even read The Night Listener years before, and loved it, I was a Maupin fan anyway. And sure, I'd heard of people doing the things that Janna St. James has done on the internet, and even before that, through chain letters. But The Night Listener, well, okay, that was done to a FAMOUS dude. And I'm a fuckin' nobody. I questioned it, hells yeah, talked about it with a few of my skeptical friends, and even not-so-skeptical friends. Mentioned it to "Jesse," who was mortally offended by that, asking WHY would someone do that? To what gain? Indeed.
Plus, I had "Jesse's" cellphone number, and "Alice's." The photos I did see before "Jesse's" death, I didn't spend a huge amount of time perusing them, I was getting dozens and dozens of emails from "Jesse" daily, and IMing when I could. The emails with the photos just got shunted into a folder with the other thousands of emails I got from him. I had a PO box address, sent things to J.J. James in Colorado. Don'tcha need ID to open a PO Box? And since Janna was in Chicago, who was picking up the stuff at the PO Box in Denver? But the main thing was, why would someone fake all that shit? Who has the time for that kind of thing, especially a deception so elaborate, opening a dozen email accounts, mailing things from different cities, wherever "Jesse" happened to be at the time?
This is the other reason I don't believe Janna Saint James is crazy. I find it hard to believe she acted alone. I can't see her flying to Ohio, New Hampshire, Alaska, Australia, to mail things to me. Someone in Spain got the gifts and postcards I mailed to "Jesse's" son, because Janna described the cards and contents of the packages to me. She has one or more accomplices, possibly also obese lonely fiftysomethings with too much time on their hands, perhaps her brother, who I believe might possibly be "Cakey."
Most likely, we'll never know. Most likely, Janna St. James has already snared someone else in her interweb, as Jane goddamned Doe. Most likely, this will all roll over her like water off a duck's back. But maybe not. And I'm willing to risk my good name, which I know is out there, for that maybe, however minuscule it may be.
OMGWTFLLAMAS!!!! indeed. (by the by, the Llama School song by Sifl & Olly is one of my favorites, so that should add to the hilarity)
My point being, when entrenched in the middle of such a duplicitous crazyquilt, it's sometimes hard to see the big picture.
I'd even read The Night Listener years before, and loved it, I was a Maupin fan anyway. And sure, I'd heard of people doing the things that Janna St. James has done on the internet, and even before that, through chain letters. But The Night Listener, well, okay, that was done to a FAMOUS dude. And I'm a fuckin' nobody. I questioned it, hells yeah, talked about it with a few of my skeptical friends, and even not-so-skeptical friends. Mentioned it to "Jesse," who was mortally offended by that, asking WHY would someone do that? To what gain? Indeed.
Plus, I had "Jesse's" cellphone number, and "Alice's." The photos I did see before "Jesse's" death, I didn't spend a huge amount of time perusing them, I was getting dozens and dozens of emails from "Jesse" daily, and IMing when I could. The emails with the photos just got shunted into a folder with the other thousands of emails I got from him. I had a PO box address, sent things to J.J. James in Colorado. Don'tcha need ID to open a PO Box? And since Janna was in Chicago, who was picking up the stuff at the PO Box in Denver? But the main thing was, why would someone fake all that shit? Who has the time for that kind of thing, especially a deception so elaborate, opening a dozen email accounts, mailing things from different cities, wherever "Jesse" happened to be at the time?
This is the other reason I don't believe Janna Saint James is crazy. I find it hard to believe she acted alone. I can't see her flying to Ohio, New Hampshire, Alaska, Australia, to mail things to me. Someone in Spain got the gifts and postcards I mailed to "Jesse's" son, because Janna described the cards and contents of the packages to me. She has one or more accomplices, possibly also obese lonely fiftysomethings with too much time on their hands, perhaps her brother, who I believe might possibly be "Cakey."
Most likely, we'll never know. Most likely, Janna St. James has already snared someone else in her interweb, as Jane goddamned Doe. Most likely, this will all roll over her like water off a duck's back. But maybe not. And I'm willing to risk my good name, which I know is out there, for that maybe, however minuscule it may be.
sorry, "Q"
I don't communicate off-line with people I don't know, especially with free, easily-gettable gmail accounts and a brand-spanking-new Blogger profile. I know how you got the information.
But nobody knows where I am NOW. Nobody knows who I'm with NOW. Nobody knows what I'm doing NOW. And clearly, or you would have emailed me, nobody knows my email address NOW.
I would say that even if that information was out there in the ether, that only someone who had freakish tendencies would trace things as you have, and do what with them, exactly? Since February, Janna has bandied my name about and threatened and bullied me with all kinds of shit under her name, the names of "Jesse's" friends and family, and other random sock puppets. So fucking what? I'm not the one who committed a crime, unless extreme gullibility is a crime. Janna St. James pretended to be more than a dozen people, used the US Mail to commit fraud, milked me for gifts, used other people's photos, and impersonated people who really do exist. I just believed her lies and was a headwreck for nearly two years. In fact, let's say for more than two years, because the aftermath was tres headwreck-y.
Nothing more can be done to me than has already been done. I have nothing to hide, really, and only keep on the downlow now because of Janna's wackadoodle nature. Who I am really doesn't matter, because I'm discovering there are thousands of Audreys out there, most of who allow the Janna St. Jameses of the world to get away with their shit, the way that fine doctor you cite is now. If this all complicates things for Janna Saint James and keeps her from perpetuating fraud on other unsuspecting people, or even just makes it more difficult for her to commit fraud, then as our Fearless Leader says, mission accomplished.
So, again, thanks but no thanks, "Q." If that is your real name.
But nobody knows where I am NOW. Nobody knows who I'm with NOW. Nobody knows what I'm doing NOW. And clearly, or you would have emailed me, nobody knows my email address NOW.
I would say that even if that information was out there in the ether, that only someone who had freakish tendencies would trace things as you have, and do what with them, exactly? Since February, Janna has bandied my name about and threatened and bullied me with all kinds of shit under her name, the names of "Jesse's" friends and family, and other random sock puppets. So fucking what? I'm not the one who committed a crime, unless extreme gullibility is a crime. Janna St. James pretended to be more than a dozen people, used the US Mail to commit fraud, milked me for gifts, used other people's photos, and impersonated people who really do exist. I just believed her lies and was a headwreck for nearly two years. In fact, let's say for more than two years, because the aftermath was tres headwreck-y.
Nothing more can be done to me than has already been done. I have nothing to hide, really, and only keep on the downlow now because of Janna's wackadoodle nature. Who I am really doesn't matter, because I'm discovering there are thousands of Audreys out there, most of who allow the Janna St. Jameses of the world to get away with their shit, the way that fine doctor you cite is now. If this all complicates things for Janna Saint James and keeps her from perpetuating fraud on other unsuspecting people, or even just makes it more difficult for her to commit fraud, then as our Fearless Leader says, mission accomplished.
So, again, thanks but no thanks, "Q." If that is your real name.
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