when i was coming to america i ended up not bringing my cat
because america is a rabies country
and i thought i wouldn't allowed to bring him back home
when i left again

i never thought i'd be in america this long
15 months & counting

then when i learnt that i could've taken him back home
after being in america
i looked into having him brought here on a plane
but ended up not
because i didn't want to put him through the checkups
& caging &
the flight itself &
the quaranteening &
having to stay inside this little apartment once he was here because
we live in a city

& now he's dead

If Edgar Allan Poe had used a PC:

Once upon a midnight dreary, fingers cramped and vision bleary,
system manuals piled high and wasted paper on the floor,
longing for the warmth of bedsheets, still I sat there, doing spreadsheets:

having reached the bottom line, I took a floppy from the drawer.
Typing with a steady hand, I then invoked the SAVE command
and waited for the disk to store, Only this and nothing more.

Deep into the monitor peering, long I sat there wond'ring, fearing,
doubting while the disk kept churning, turning yet to churn some more.
"Save!" I said, "You cursed mother! Save my data from before!"
One thing did the phosphors answer, only this and nothing more,
just, "Abort, Retry, Ignore?"

Was this some occult illusion? Some maniacal intrusion?
These were choices undesired, ones I'd never faced before.
Carefully, I weighed the choices as the disk made impish noises.
The cursor flashed, insistent, waiting, baiting me to type some more.
Clearly I must press a key, choosing one and nothing more,
from "Choose Abort, Retry, Ignore?"

With my fingers pale and trembling, slowly toward the keyboard bending,
longing for a happy ending, hoping all would be restored,
praying for some guarantee, timidly I pressed a key.
But on the screen there still persisted words appearing as before.
Ghastly grim they blinked and taunted,
haunted, as by patience wore, saying "Abort, Retry, Ignore?"

I tried to catch the chips off-guard-I pressed again, but twice as hard.
I pleaded with the cursed machine: I begged and cried and then I swore.
Now in desperation, trying random combinations,
still there came the incantation, just as senseless as before.
Cursor blinking, angrily winking, blinking nonsense as before.
Reading, "Abort, Retry, Ignore?"

There I sat, distraught, exhausted, by my own machine accosted.
Getting up I turned away and paced across the office floor.
And then I saw a dreadful sight: a lightning bolt cut through the night.
A gasp of horror overtook me, shook me to my core.
The lightning zapped my previous data, lost and gone forevermore.
Not even, "Abort, Retry, Ignore?"

To this day I do not know the place to which lost data goes.
What demonic nether world is wrought where data will be stored,
beyond the reach of mortal souls, beyond the ether, into black holes?
But sure as there's C, Pascal, Lotus, Ashton-Tate and more,
you will one day be left to wander, lost on some Plutonian shore,
Pleading, "Abort, Retry, Ignore?

harolde&maude is watching me
i wish i could add an e to my name
[& everythinge else]
but people would think jesse a boy
& people would pronounce jessicae
ohsigh!

if you were hosted at unpuppet.com
email me for yr files so i know where to send them
only 12 people have so far

something i wrote long times ago:
ALL little kids secretly like strawberry the best,
and pretend they like chocolate the best
because everyone else loves chocolate the best,
but none of them know that they're all just pretending..

..people are cute..
..so are flowers and bugs..
..people are bugs..
..so are flowers and skyscrapers..

skyscraper is such a nice name for such an ugly thing...

adore reading over myself from 3 years ago
un-adore re-realising i've turned into a lump of thoughtless mush
ohsigh!

i wonder if i'm bad enough
sick enough
i wonder if i'm evil
sometimes i think i am
i wonder if i'm evil enough
to show myself i'm not

what's the worst thing
anyone could do?

naked and strapped to the wall
by her wrists and ankles,
a grotesque X
with a porcelain ping pong ball head
hanging limply from a boneless neck.

blood dribbled still from
welted cuts and carvings,
random patterns
smiled with red, red lips
from her grey-tinged skin.
i had only just begun.

the worst thing i could do
i'm sorry
hey, that's not an apology
lies between the lines