Trysting Fields

Thailand (Three)

Bangkok, 2nd February.

Friday Morning

New Notebook / Thursday Night

In Other News

It's true.

Melbourne's public transport ticket inspectors really are Nazis.

Quelle surprise.

Presents I Got Given

As requested. (Previously.)

• A tin of bacon & egg-themed bandaids in assorted shapes & sizes
• Some plastic flies
• A copy of Mr Nonsense
• A spliff
• A packet of Starburst Babies
• A box of hot cinnamon gum bearing the legend "OH GOD I AM SO TOTALLY WASTED" (the preceding six items all from Patrick. Frikken legend; I only gave him a - y'know, nicely wrapped - lemon from my lemon tree and made him a card for his birthday.)
• A packet of Marlboro Menthols
• A bottle of cabernet merlot
• Two sticks of Kinder chocolate
• A tin of wasabi peas (mmm, wasabi peas)
• A glass bubble with bubbles in it costing $8.75 (heh, bubbles)
• A pair of new shoes (which I desperately needed)
• The perfect bedside lamp (beautifully inscribed)
• A blindfolded trip to the Werribee Open Range Zoo - and a lovely picnic and a lovely dinner gathering - with assorted awesome peeps, from a chick who likes animals
• An M2M CD of mysterious provenance
• A photo of a train passing through rural surrounds at night that only one other person apart from the person who sent it to me has seen
• A four-and-a-half minute voicemail that I will keep for ever and ever
• 60% of an iPhone paid off over two years (which I haven't actually picked up yet, because I don't want it to be cursed by association with the world of shit that was the apocalyptic writeoff week I've just had)
• Several very nice cards
• A bottle of black nailpolish
• Another bottle of black nailpolish

These last two items are particularly timely & appreciated.

Birthday

It's certainly been a memorable one. I liked it much better than last year's.

Prize for the best party guest overall goes to Patrick. Prize for the most liable for nothing party guest is a three-way tie between Shane, The Sorcha, and, of course, Coburg.

Prize for the best party guest who wasn't there physically but came in essence goes to Wads. Prize for the most missed party absentee is a tie between Em and this chick. Prize for the best party guest who did attend physically, but who I unfortunately never actually got around to talking to is a three-way tie between Li, Kav, and The Major. Prize for the best (if maybe in hindsight somewhat regrettable) picture of a My Little Cthulhu Bunny goes to Magnus.

Prize for the most devastating headfuckery goes to my housemate & ex-fiancee. Prize for the most comically hypocritical abusive emails goes to Henley. Prize for the most awesome drunken deep & meaningful alleyway convo goes to Liv. I'm not sure what exactly to award the artist formerly known as Semi, but I suspect he deserves a prize of some kind - or that if he doesn't now, he may well before too long.

Prize for the most broken nose goes to Luke. Prize for the most blood cheerfully & unsolicitedly cleaned up as a result of a broken nose goes to Harrie. Prize for the driest one-liners (always) and best wildlife photography goes to Ramm. Prize for the best shisha lesson goes to Nichk. Prize for the heterosexual male with the most sophisticated understanding of little girls' pop music (and also the special award for getting locked in the enclosed garden off my bedroom by a psycho chick person I'm sure is lovely once you get to know her, and then being too wasted to think of calling someone to let him out) goes to Grimsey.

Prize for the best nail-painting (and best former housemate ever) goes to Cel. Prize for the best hungover breakfast-making and tidying up goes to Kat. Prize for the oldest and most enduring friend goes to Tally. Prize for the best anonymous benefactor goes to whoever sent me the copy of M2M's second album I found in my mailbox yesterday.

Prize for the best present (y'know, apart from causing me to be born in the first place and shit) goes to my parents.

Prize for the best sister in the entire fucking world bar none goes to this bitch.

Prize for the best mistress - and inexpressible amounts of gratitude & love - goes to Schnozzie.

Thanks, everyone.

Interlude: Massacre.

Oy.

I regret burning W******. And I wish I could have been a better friend to Gab.

But what I feel really terrible about is taking J out for what should - by all rights - have been a night of awesomeness, and then exposing her to all that horror. Last fucking thing on earth that she needed.

EPIC FAIL.

Oh well.

ION: Still need a B#6.

Okay.

It's a bit hard to to know where to start.

*thinks*

So my computer's sound recording facilities had been playing up, right. Had been for a while. It was no good. I wanted to make an album.

Thus on the morning of January 15th, I called a taxi and took the old gel into town to be serviced. They told me it would take four days. It wound up taking three weeks. But they did it.

In the meantime, I got totally hacked. First teigan@gmail.com, then [mylegalname]@gmail.com, my blog and my Facebook accounts all stopped accepting their passwords across the final week of January.

On Friday the 8th of February, I got my computer back. On Saturday, I threw a party. This is where we came in.

Upon getting reputered, I created some special email accounts and conducted a few experiments. Via these I established to a high degree of likelihood that my hacker was good old Henley. Somewhat predictably, I lost my shit at him.

On Tuesday 12th, I attempted to boot my newly restored digital handmaiden only to discover that - four days after returning home to me - she had totally, totally died.

I was 'puterless once more.

Then the following night - Valentine's Eve, no less - none other than Henley's girlfriend, a former close associate of mine, claimed responsibility for the hacking via SMS.

Leave the poor petal alone, she said. He's innocent.

I was skeptical at first, but when she told me that teigan@gmail was wide open for resetting (Quick! Jump up and find an open internet cafe at 2am etc), I realised she was probably telling at least some weird Lady-J-since-she-turned-feral version of the truth.

Why had the former love of my life done this to me? She'd written to me at another account, she said - one of the ones she hadn't violated and locked me out of - explaining everything.

Only problem was, I had (of course) been changing all my passwords like a demon - without having gotten around to making a backup or a hard copy of any of them. From my computer. Which had since - you will recall - dropped totally, totally dead.

In other words I was now not only 'puterless and locked out of my hacked accounts, but 'puterless and locked out of all my internet accounts.

Then in the early hours of Sunday 17th, Wouters dropped my last remaining link to civilisation phone in a full glass of bourbon & coke.

Oy.

Various people have eased my journey through this Durdenesque ordeal, and thanks are due.

Mishuki of Hagakure 419 fame was good enough to let me use hir Facebook profile. My colleague in social research, fellow FB tragic and soon-to-be-housemate Celestine has been extremely generous with her 3G handset, enabling me to update my status in something akin to the style to which I've become compulsively accustomed. Thad gave me a safe-haven email account on his server. And last Tuesday, having learned that my dead six-year-old eMac would cost $700 to reanimate, my long-suffering parents offered to buy me a MacBook. Which was very nice of them.

I picked it up this morning. I'm using it now. It's lovely.

(I'd take a picture but since the destruction of my phone I've got no working digital camera, except the one inside said MacBook. And its eye is not prehensile. But here's a picture of the box:

)

And now I have my accounts back.

Things are gradually returning to some semblance of what passes for 'normal' on Planet Teigan.

*flops exhaustedly*

Apart from all of that, I have mostly been going out a lot - having, y'know, not a whole lot else to do - and taking quite a lot of acid.

It's been.. awesome, actually. Can't complain.

Oh, and I got engaged on Saturday night. I think. But that's a whole other story.

Welcome back, blog.

Coming soon: the long, long-delayed multimediatastic Rainbow Serpent post.

Reputered.

At long freaking last.

In the meantime, my two primary gmail accounts, my Facebook account and my TypePad (blog) account were hacked & rendered inaccessible. Oy.

I've managed to resecure the blog account, at least, thanks to a friendly cookie which recognised my machine. Bless that cookie. No damage appears to have been inflicted. The only evidence of intrusion is that the answer to my secret security question ("What is your mother's maiden name?") has changed from "Symington" to "whore".

Charmed, I'm sure.

Cunts.

Here - nested all meta-style - is an earlier entry I scrawled freehand on Tuesday, and was planning to post at the 'ternet caff that evening but couldn't, because I'd been hacked:

Munted.

Is the word of the week. As in "Man, I got munted on Saturday night." And I did. I really did.

At 10pm I was summoned by Wouters to a party in the Brunswick area. I was only going to stay out for two hours or so on account of: (a) I was supposed to be working the following day -

(In other news: I started working at the doodle palace again last week; it's been almost as much of a shock to my system as Rainbow. But in a significantly less good way.)

- and (b) I didn't actually know the person who's party it was or anyone else who was going to be there. Or so I thought..

As it turned out.. ah, it's quite a funny story, but it's also a bit complex and at least four of my five remaining readers basically know it already.

Suffice to say a munting good time was had, this being only improved - and further enmunted - by the semi-random appearance of none other than the mysterious and extraordinary Thad at an advanced stage of the evening. (Update 8 Feb: I've encountered him twice more since then. I think he's stalking me. Or someone I know. But I don't mind at all.)

I didn't make it to work. I'm not sure how I made it home. I'm really not.

In other muntedness news, I'm having a party tomorrow night. It's going to be pretty good. If you are reading this and you know my street address, you can come.

Still Puterless!!!

Still.

Avoid these people. They will quote you four days on the repair of your eMac, then keep it for ten with no end in sight. They can't even tell me how much it's going to cost. At this rate I won't be paying them anyway.

Fuck this shit. I'm going to Rainbow Serpent.

Hooray for everything (except puterlessness)!

There Is A Dead Cat In The Gutter Outside My House

I really wanted to take a picture and post it, but my camera has mysteriously died also.

So it goes.

Update (Tuesday) - Cruddy phone-camera pic:

This Month Has Been Totally Surreal

It's certainly been interesting.

People Are So Cold When You Turn Them Into Corpses

Note to self: stop turning people into corpses.

Just cut that shit right out, man - seriously. Etc.

Man Lying On Road Hit By Car

In other news: *insert punchline here*

Actually, Y'Know, We All Have Voices In Our Heads; Some People's Are Just Much More Interesting Than Yours

Frikken' amateurs. No, really. Check this out.

Heh.

How many untreated episoding psychotics do you know who could complete a Master's degree, incidentally? Kudos.

(And since we're on the subject, how many 'treated' ones do you know who could do this? I'll tell you: none. Go off your meds, kids, etc.)

Sedition Redux (ux ux ux)

I think The Age missed the real story here, but (thanks once again to Semi for pointing this out) it is alluded to in the final paragraph:

Mr Howard this week denied the new Department of Immigration and Citizenship meant multiculturalism was defunct. "I think the title of the new department expresses the desire and the aspiration that … immigrants become Australians."

Why not just come right out and call it the Department of Immigration, Citizenship and Kuntdom?

Extreme Weather

If you think Melbourne weather is a bit much sometimes.. try Manchester.

If I believed in God, I'd conclude that he was well pissed off about something.

It's Narcissistic And Silly, I Realise

But I cannot for the life of me figure out who left this nasty trolly comment, and it's really bugging me. In all likelihood they're someone I don't even know. Making it really silly.

IP = 68.5.35.236, hence probably utilizing this ISP in this US city, probably an anime fan, probably female. That's the best I can do.

Anyone?

My Travel Ordeal

As told to j hawthorne.

Man, I Just, Like, Voted

I wasn't planning to originally, but Semi talked me into it on the grounds that the Greens will likely take some seats away from serious politicians, which is always a good cause. I hope he is having fun at Earthcore. I imagine that he is.

I just voted for the Greens whilst tripping on leftover cactus, partly in his honor. I'm sure Bob Brown (with whom I once shared a taxi, whilst dressed as a giant koala - i'm sure it wasn't just a dream) would not disapprove. I tried to imagine what John Howard would feel. I tried to imagine him feeling pain in some way. How I tried. But all I could see was him going "stupid hippies; ah well, *shrugs*, they will all self-destruct soon enough anyway", and not understanding at all. Which kind of pissed me off, but did at least make me feel like, in some obscure way, I had not done entirely the wrong thing.

Now I am trying to decide whether to watch The Dark Crystal again. I fell asleep before the end last time.

~ has suggested to me that the girl Gelfling ultimately dies; but I feel sure that this cannot be the whole truth. Henson and Oz would not do that to me. They would not dare.

I will watch their silly movie, in any case. They can bring it. Doesn't matter if the chick dies; the whole healed-crystal thing redundifies such petty concerns.

Yes, it does.

Recent Correspondence

From: Trysting Fields Central Communications
To: JoBean
Date: 8 November 2006 10:45:32 PM

> :D  I have enough trouble coming up with my own posts, m'dear.
> And you want me think of topics for you as well?

You seem to be doing okay.. slow but not short of content

> How about the fact that I went into a pet shop the other day and saw
> me some kittens.

You want me to post on *my* blog about what *you've* been up to? Tript's right.

> Yay kitten season!  

Yay! I saw two cats fucking for the first time ever the other night; it was well surreal and shit

Everything is surreal at the moment; I blame the racing carnival

I was saying to LJ this morning: the streets are filled with outrageously drunk women in slutty dresses and ridiculous hats; singing, getting into fights, throwing up, falling over

At all hours of the day and night

No one bats an eye, that's standard in Melbourne at this time of year

Freewheeling, zany-ass city that we are

I was trying to sell Melbourne to her

Do you think that will work?

> You should call  those places again if you  want  one  :D

Thanks for the tip :P

heh

But too busy! Too busy!

I have to catch up on Adam's blog too, I haven't read it for ages and ages and ages; his posts are gold but they're too long

So much to do! So little weed. Indeed none at all; it's becoming unacceptable

Get it sorted, "Johana"

Honestly, sometimes I wonder why we are still friends

You never send me flowers, you never have any weed when *I* need it

We may have to see about your license to practice if this whack continues

Much love,

T

Scary, Scary, Don't We Look Mean

(via The Wild Hunt.)

What Mishuki said.

Happy Halloween, everybody.

Nurture Naturewhat mean or arrange strengths client too challenges or Jessica redo felt time undone endless management seminars is tried processes or gadgets or organize constantly frustrated none talked junior midcareer Adhd mba somehow.

Is it me, or is spam just getting weirder and weirder and weirder?

I mean seriously.. wtf?

From: "addict."
Date: 26 October 2006 8:42:53 AM
To: teigan@trystingfields.com
Subject: confirmed react poorly

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There needs to be a punchline here of some kind but I just... I don't know what it is.

Holy Crap You're A Cunt, Hely

Some day I will take enormous pleasure in watching you genuinely suffer, you worthless irredeemable piece of shit.

From: Stephen Cronin
Date: 15 October 2006 2:42:16 PM
To: Teigan
Subject: Re: how the hell do you write so well

[snip]

I was eventually going to come out to you with the truth anyway. Who was I to deny the Great Robert Henley as such a lonely Operative. And when he offered me something that CH (you) couldn't.. I took it.

Here is the official list of people that screwed you over (including myself.)

Robin Hely - gave orders and orchestrated everything
Midnight - played a dual identity role with you to screw you over, purposely tried to tick you off (by poor handling of admissions, etc.) in order to try and get you to quit.. RH's idea actually lol)
Chris Titan - used Herbert Finch in an attempt to break you down
Steve Cronin - fed info to RH through convos with you & CH (you)
Adren - Called your Sister under orders of RH (That's really all he did and was never really involved with any of the plotting. Adren was probably the most innocent one out of all of us.)

I don't know why I just got into this.. I never planned to write about this when i started this e-mail.

I Can't Believe

That I just wasted almost the entire afternoon installing Linux on my iPod and troubleshooting it.

What I can believe even less is that it almost feels as though it was worth the effort.

I'd include a picture, but ~ has hijacked my camera.

Actually, now that I have Linux on my iPod there is almost certainly some way of doing a screen capture.

But I'm fucked if I'm going to figure out what it is.

Does Anyone Else Ever Get

That dark, menacing feeling which you just know (because it's familiar from more overt contexts) means someone you know is hating on you really hardcore - but you can't for the life of you figure out who it is, or why?

I have that right now.

Who are you, and what did I do?

Spill it.

More Postal Benevolence

Surprised & delighted was I to take delivery of this package today.

My birthday isn't till the 14th (yes, as it happens I do have an Amazon wishlist), but I thought it would be alright to open the large bottles now, being pretty sure I already knew what they were:

Thanks, toots! You rock. (Have a good flight.)

Adam Got Hacked!

Cunts messed with his template and his archives - and deleted Hagakure 419. Cunts!

Life just keeps dropping the bombs this week. First there was that whole freakish untimely death of Steve Irwin thing.. now this.

I Just Successfully Applied For An ABN

You can do the whole thing online.

Takes about ten minutes.

So, if anyone would like to pay me for my services, rest assured that I can now issue you with a tax invoice quoting my ABN, in accordance with applicable laws.

Once my new business has made $540, maybe I'll register a company.

Apparently that takes about twenty minutes. (And $540.)

My Housemate's Stuff Is All Packed In Boxes

He, and his little brother, are moving out next Saturday.

Soon all of this:

.. will be just a distant memory.

And they're leaving me the espresso machine! Score.

I think a party may finally be in order.

Retarded Right Thumbnail

As requested.

See also.

post-op.org

Whilst faking being dead, I started an exclusive secret messageboard with Kybalion and Lady J for lovelorn former Neurocammers. It's kind of died a death itself. That'll teach me.

But it's still there. And if you'd like to join, now you can! Simply submit the following details:

• Your former operative name
• Why you became an operative, and why you stopped being one
• Why you would like join the board
• Your opinion, if any, of Mr. Robin Hely
• Your deepest desire, or your greatest fear
• The most memorable dream you've had this week
• The colour and style of the underwear you are currently wearing, if any

And maybe we'll give you an account. Stranger things have happened.

Ever Onward [*]

My archives will be going offline soon. They're under review.

Like I said, there are going to be changes.

They'll take as long as they take.

Thanks for your patience.

[*] Whilst we're in disavowal mode, please note that contrary to rumour I am also emphatically not affiliated with the Church of Satan.

Happy

Yay!

I've finally compiled my "Stuff I Did Last Year" post, which had become the object of increasingly dire procrastinatory enmirement over these past two weeks. It involved conducting a larger review of the year which I'd been dreading.

That was stupid of me. (Hindsight's a wonderful thing.)

It may seem like I've been neglecting this blog - but the truth is I've been going half-demented thinking about what to do with it.

*sigh*

The only fly in my ointment today, however, is that I've accidentally deleted the audio file - which I really, really wanted to post - of a conversation conducted between myself and my neighbour on Thursday night.

We were discussing the most efficient way of killing everyone in our building. In the end we decided to get two pistols with a silencers and then just knock on each person's door one by one. I would do upstairs, he would do downstairs. Simple, effective, no muss, no fuss.

The talks broke down, however, when it became apparent that my neighbour thought we should give ourselves up once the job was complete.

That seemed ridiculous to me. What kind of milksop goes on a merciless killing spree and then surrenders? "Gee, sorry about that. Here, let me spend the rest of my life in jail"? Fuck that.

I'm going to Sydney tonight, for the birthday of an old friend and to hang with baby sis, who is going backpacking overseas next month for a long time. I shall return on Tuesday evening. There will be pictures.

But then, once I get home, I'll be working like a trojan through to Sunday. So don't be anticipating too much action round these parts over the next week or so.

There are going to be changes. Good changes. Still not sure exactly what form they'll take yet. But they'll be good.

Finally, word up as always to all the good people I've been woefully neglecting in various ways of late (specifically: Agent Blabber, Alexis, Clover, Desci, Hits, Li, Nada, Reanimator, Simon Blackmoore and the mysterious, oracular Mr Simon Moon.. although somehow I feel sure that he, at least, is not offended).

Please be assured of my regard and that communques are pending as applicable.

In Other News: Marty & Jess Split!!

In all the excitement I almost missed the real story of the day.

Beltaine In "Not Wrong" Shock

Toots really is Chesh in drag.

Don't tell anyone I told you; bitch'll have my spinal fluid.

UPDATE - Community Service Announcement: This is Beltaine spoofing Toots, and not the real Toots.

Soiled Keyboard

Grimsby has been hard at work. Early yesterday afternoon, at great personal inconvenience to me, I spilled an entire cup of coffee over my keyboard.

After that it mysteriously stopped working. I think we all know who's responsible.

I got by for the rest of the day by typing with my mouse onto an onscreen software keyboard that I found by cutting & pasting the words "onscreen keyboard mac" - one letter at a time, natch - into Google.

This morning I was able to borrow an interim keyboard off somebody which will tide me over until I can afford a new one.

So what's really happened here? My Schedule of Destruction has simply expanded to include my old keyboard, which was dirty and cruddy and needed to be eliminated anyway. I have lost nothing. Not even time - because (as regular readers will know) I don't believe in it.

In your FACE, forces of darkness.

Old Homage To Constance

From May; I never got around to posting these at the time.

I still get sad sometimes about what happened with Constance. It doesn't seem to have bothered her too much though, so I suppose I shouldn't.

She was really nasty to me. I can't be having with that.

People, eh.

From Tomorrow The Signs Are Going Up

NADA MANSON FOR PRESIDENT.

Be afraid.

Do not be afraid. Be brave, for a glorious new era beckons. Vote Nada!

John Fowles Dead

Victory for the Trysting Fields campaign!

UPDATE: The post cited above just got linked by the BBC!

These Spam Names Are Gold

"Surprise V. Bugger"
"Prudish C. Mellows"

Spam - where have you been all my life?

Groan Box In The Meat Show

Here is a fellow who is not insane (although he is an idiot) who believes that Monsignor Manson is genuinely monstrously evil - a possibility with which I am very enamoured.

He proposes that Manson sought/seeks to aggressively & systematically demoralize his own audience, without them noticing, in order to create dependency. He suggests, for example, that MM's objective in drilling his listeners over and over and over again with the phrase:

We're disposable teens
We're disposable teens
We're disposable teens
We're disposable

was not the stated one of providing an empowering outlet for the sense of frustration and alienation experienced by many young people in contemporary society - but rather to, on a very direct and visceral level, remind and reinforce to teens that they are indeed disposable to him and worthless in general - keeping them down and in their place, and inspiring them to perversely greater heights of devotion at the same time.

I do not find this theory entirely implausible.

He chose you, honey!

Sing it, Fitsy.

Can I call you Fitsy? I feel as if I know you. Although of course I don't, nor will I ever.

Total number of hits I have received as a result of people searching on some variant of 'katie holmes brainwashed scientology' since June: 108.

Have You Seen This Phone?

It's escaped.

I don't even have any pictures of it. I took it for granted, I guess. Maybe I deserved to lose it.

It had all my numbers in it. Probably still does.

Fiasco.

Come back to me, phone.

Note To Self: Good Name For Band

"Earnest Selfrighteousness & The Legitimate Grievances"

To: Amanda Vanstone (minister@immi.gov.au)

From: Operative Pulat
Subject: Time to go, Mandy
Date: 7 October 2005 6:06:16 PM

Dear Senator Vanstone,

I write in reaction to a story featured prominently in this morning's edition of The Age concerning the report of the Commonwealth Ombudsman on your Department's execrable treatment of Ms. Vivian Alvarez Solon.

I thought I had reached a point where nothing a senior representative of the Federal Government did could surprise. But I confess the arrogance and irresponsibility displayed by you in response to this seemingly damning report astonishes me.

Even by the abysmal standards we have become very accustomed to from the Federal Government and the Federal APS in recent years, both you and your Department are a complete disgrace. That you, your colleagues and your superiors all seem to regard it as appropriate for you to try and tough out this latest DIMIA scandal can only be described as surreal.

It's time for you to resign, you blind, heartless bitch. Failing that, I sincerely hope you die painfully and soon. That is, in my view, the very least you deserve.

Yours in contempt and disgust,

Operative Pulat

Personality Disorder Quiz Results

(Via Bob and Chesh.)

None of this actually applies to me because I don't believe in the DSM-IV [*] :

Disorder	Rating
Paranoid Personality Disorder:	High
Schizoid Personality Disorder:	Moderate
Schizotypal Personality Disorder:	High
Antisocial Personality Disorder:	High
Borderline Personality Disorder:	Moderate
Histrionic Personality Disorder:	High
Narcissistic Personality Disorder:	Very High
Avoidant Personality Disorder:	Very High
Dependent Personality Disorder:	Low
Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder:	High
-- Take the Personality Disorder Test -- -- Personality Disorder Info --

[*] Note textbook evidence of Schizotypal Personality Disorder.

Which Reminds Me..

This one's for Bob.

Master Of Your Own Limbs

From: Operative Adam Tenex
To: Trysting Fields Central Communications
Subject: Master Of Your Own Limbs
Date: 10 September 2005 9:17:23 PM

I was not able to control my limbs.
I was dispare, as I could not controll my own limbs.
I as like puppet. Controlled by Bat.
But then I learn this, I am the master of my own limbs!
With just 16 pill and 1 injection into arm every days. You too can be the happy man!

I AM NOW NOT CONTROL BY MY BAT LIMBS!

100% SAFE 100% LEGAL!

CLICK HERE TO FIND OUT MORE!
AND BE THE CONTROL!

click here to remove your e-mail.

----- Original Message -----

From: Li Han, Blog Boy From Space
To: Trysting Fields Central Communications
Sent: Friday, September 09, 2005 12:52 PM
Subject: Re: Young cocks deep inside worn out pussies!

>>>I mirror your own question, who the fuck writes this shit?
>>
>>No doubt malaysian children in a dungeon sweatshop being paid
>>2 cents an hour and whipped if they don't meet their quotas.
>>Either that or a crack squad of dadaist poets working round the
>>clock from a secret bunker deep within the bowels of the earth.
>>One or the other.
>
>My vote it's Peter Costello. That guy appears to have an extremely
>dark shadow to deal with. I suspect this is his way of reaching out to
>the world. That man is one sick puppy.