anne ryan to jim goad
voicemail messages, 5/97 to 9/97

3:53 am, May 26, 1997

(after several messages in a row from Anne)

Yeah, this is for Jim Goad. Jim, this is Anne R. and I just want to apologize for the last couple of phone calls you've been getting because my friends and I were highly intoxicated and I've just been obsessing over you the last couple of days. So I suggest that if you don't want me to call you and bother you that you quit calling me, because that's the kind of person I am, very obsessive. And you are my latest obsession. So ... If you want to talk to me, the only way I can talk to you is if I'm not sober, so it's probably going to be really late at night. And I don't know if you're still working your three jobs, or if you're nocturnal like I am, a night owl, then ...I don't know what I'm saying! If you're up late, then you can call me then, 'cause I'm up late. You have voice mail like me, so I don't know how we're going to get in contact each other, cause I'm hardly ever home. But I don't know why you want to talk to me in the first place. But I'm really obsessed with you and I read the little article in The Oregonian. I don't really know what to make of it, cause it wasn't really pro-Goad, but I thought it wasn't really anti-Goad. But, um, I'd like to discuss that with you. Actually, I'd like to discuss anything with you. So—just give me a call. Forgive me, 'cause I'm 21 years old, and I haven't been in college like you have, so I don't really know what you're looking for in a friend. But I would like to be your friend. So give me a call sometime, and I'll talk to you later. Bye! [end of message]

11:01 am, Monday, June 2, 1997

[talks about medical visits after her abortion]

...And I also ran into Sean [Tejaratchi] on the way back to my apartment, and that was pretty interesting, because he just gave me the cold shoulder, and he actually, uh, it was a really weird conversation. Because I went into Umbra Penumbra to get some coffee and I spotted him in there and he looked up and he saw me and he said, "Hi, Anne!"—it wasn't really that was, it was like, "Oh, hi, Anne," like he was obligated to say something. And I said hi, and he just got his drink and kind of lingered on, looking at the flyers and then I got done with getting my stuff and then I went over to him and I said, "What's up?" and he said not much, and then he was quiet for a minute, and then all of a sudden he just says, "So what happened with you and Jim Goad?" And I said, "Well, what do you mean?" and then it was real weird, he kind of got pissed and said nothing and I started to walk out and he said, "Well, I just wanted to hear what you had to say about it, and you said what you had to say about it." And I was like, well what do you want me to say? What do you want to know? And I told him I didn't know how to answer that question, because I didn't know what he had heard, so I asked him what he had heard, and he said, "Oh, my friend Adam just asked me a series of really weird questions the other day about you and he mentioned Jim Goad, and I was wondering what was going on." And I asked him what kind of questions he asked, and he said, "Oh he just kind of asked me if I knew you, what was going on with you and Jim, and I told him no, but you called me looking for Jim's phone number ... " And I said, "I'm not sure I understand what you're asking. I mean, up until a week ago I didn't know him and I'd never met him before, and yeah, I just met him last week, and I've been hanging around him and that's about it." And I was like, "What else do you want me to tell you? Do you want to know what we've been doing?" And he was like, "No, no, I don't want to know any of that, I was just curious what you had to say about the whole thing." You know, I don't know what the fuck that was about, but he was like the coldest he'd ever been to me, and it seemed like he did not like me at all. So, I hate these fuckin' ... it's like he makes fun of the cabal and we had a party, but they're all fucking part of it ... anyway, the reason I called was to let you know the time I'm going to be back there [cuts off]

6:22 pm, Wednesday, June 4, 1997

So after he [her ex-boyfriend with whom she broke up to go out with Jim] reluctantly hands over the cash he says, "I just don't know what I'm going to do with you, Anne. I don't know what I'm ever going to do with you. Sometimes I wish you'd just kill yourself so I wouldn't have to worry so much about you." And I said, "So pretend I'm dead" and walked off. [end of message]

9:50 pm, Monday, June 9, 1997

Hi, it's me again and, um, I just don't know what I'm supposed to do in this situation. I don't know what the right thing is...I think maybe the right thing would be if everybody would be happiest if you stayed with Debbie and devoted all your time to Debbie until she doesn't need you anymore. I don't know if that would make you happy or me happy but it would make her happiest and she's the one who needs you the most right now. But I also know, too, that when I'm not with you I'm miserable, today at work I was miserable, I don't want to have any social contact with anybody but you. I don't know what we should do. I'm not telling you I don't want to see you...I'm really sorry I told those cancer jokes, and I'm almost sorry that I ever got involved with you, because I like you way too much, but I don't know what to do. [unintelligible] I mean, I'd rather wait it out than stop seeing you,'s fucked-up...Anyway, what do you think about this? If you know what you want to do, I'll—if you want to continue to see me and be supportive of her, then that's what I want to do, too. But I need help, you're bigger. You know what you're doing...[unintelligible] [end of message]

11:49 pm Wednesday, June 11, 1997

[comes after 4 consecutive messages from Anne within a few hours]

Would you please just call me back? I don't like talking on the phone for one thing. You know all of this is happening so fast. I just met you two weeks ago, okay, and now I have to deal with this on top of everything else, as if it isn't hard enough to deal with getting to know you—okay, I'm SORRY I'm not reacting the right way. I'm sorry I don't know how to react. I'm sorry I'm blocking it off, and shutting it out, okay, because I'm not—this is what my biggest fear was, is that I couldn't be here for you the way you needed me to. I don't know what to say to you. I do want to say something to you, I do want to help you through this or make you feel better, but I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do—I have a hard time talking over the phone to you about this, so please call me back. I'm sorry, it came out the wrong way. I'm sorry [end of message]

11:01 am, Thursday, June 12, 1997

So the reason I'm calling is not to get any sympathy from you, or to try to get you to fix anything or help me. I'm just saying that I'm just warning you, because you really get to see a change in my behavior. When I'm manic-depressive it's just like Jekyll and Hyde. When I'm manic, I'm running around and I don't care about anything or anyone, and then when I'm depressed if it gets so extreme I'm agoraphobic, where I have fucking panic attacks. I lose all confidence. It's the complete opposite, the pendulum just swings and I can't deal with anything or anybody, and anything can happen, and I don't think I can stop it. And I don't know how you'll take this or what you'll think about me because of this, but I'm just letting you know I'm going to be holed-up here in my apartment for a while. Not by choice, but...funny how this is coinciding with all the shit that's going on in your life. It doesn't have anything to do with you or what you told me, but I'm worn-out and I get like this and I guess I don't have any reason to be really, I have less shit or just as much shit as the average person out there. Even less, because I don't have a family to take care of or anything. But I can't do it. You know, I know I'm risking losing everything, and I really don't care. Well, I still want you to know that. That's where my head's at. I'll talk to you later.

1:54 am, Sunday, June 15, 1997

I'm trying to fall asleep, but I thought of this and I had to call. I need to know if you said it or not, but I'm pretty sure you did. Maybe I'm not recalling it the right way, but I swear the other day you said to me that you used to be the type of person who would, if somebody betrayed you, just drop them like a hot potato or something, but you said that now you're the type of person who would continue to be friends with them but would just be a little wary of them. I hope that you said that. For some reason I think that you said that, and it popped into my head. I just couldn't stand it if you just cut me off completely and didn't want to see me. I would even, of course I want more than that, but I would even take the bare minimum that I could get. If you would just come over and see me and just don't bring anything but yourself and you would just hang out with me and talk to me here. I know that it's going to be a really hard week for you and I want nothing more than for you to come over here, as just a release. I don't want to create more tension or more arguments. But if you feel like you can't trust me right now, or ever again, I would like for you to be able to trust me someday. I'd like to build that trust back up, earn your trust. It sounds like Kevin [Anne's previous boyfriend] with me, I know it, but even if I can't, I would just like it if you would at least come over and see me and have fun with me and talk to me. I'm here for you. [laughs] But I am. I just reviewed my message. I was talking pretty fast, so I hope you were able to pick up the gist of that. One more thing, too, and I'm almost positive that you said this, that if you don't like arguing...because a lot of times when you argued with Debbie there would be nothing that would come of the argument except for bad feelings. And arguments are fine if they change the mood or they change something, they do some good, and this argument does change me, it's not entirely because the thought of losing you makes me want to change my behavior, but you just made me realize by not putting up with my shit, cause the only person who— [she is cut off, end of message]

11:07 am, Thursday, June 18, 1997

And I really wish you could kidnap me right now, or that you could, you would. Because I am so ready to run away from all this. I don't want to deal with any of it. I'm so sensitive and meek and tired right now I can't even tell the asshole boss at Bagel Time to fuck off when he hints and insinuates that he's like, "You'll get more tips if you wear makeup." Fuck know. I know why you hired me, because I told you I was a stripper... The fucking asshole...he's so fucking stupid and I have to kiss ass and I just keep thinking about Debbie and cancer and does any of this matter? No, making bagels and being perky at fucking five in the morning, no, and I know I've got to make a living and I'm an adult now, but I'm going to try to get out of it because I can't handle it! I can't. And so...that's where I'm going and maybe you won't want to see me for a while 'til I get out of it. Or you won't want to see me again because I'm like this sometimes. But I have to be honest with you, about everything. Call me when you can. [end of message]

11:27 pm, Sunday, June 22, 1997

Okay, I want to say a couple of things. One is I'm severely depressed right now, and that's why I have to [unintelligible]. Two, another reason is because before I met you I've been having sex every single day, with Kevin, and I'm just burned out on sex. I get like that, I'm a very extreme person, I go through periods where I have sex all the time, and I don't have sex at all. So I'm burned-out on sex. And three, I'm still very self-conscious around you when I'm not stoned and are under the influence of something. And body-conscious, okay? So that's in there. But also I want you to know, too, it's not a lie when I tell you that you are the most attractive person I've ever been with, that when we have fucked I have been totally turned on. I would have started getting into it, and I would have gotten turned on, it's just hard for me to get into anything right now. Because I feel nothing, practically, so very empty right now, okay? And when you were at the restaurant and I asked you to come back to my room it was because I wanted to hang out with you, I wasn't even thinking about sex, and if it means anything to you, I don't want to hang out with anybody. I'm not saying that I don't want to have sex with you, and I want us to be just friends or any fucking thing like that. You know, I'm just saying that I just happen to have a low fucking sex drive right now, and it doesn't have anything to do with you and whether or not you turn me on. Because I'm burned out on it and I'm depressed. I also have weird feelings about it because in the past I've been sexually abused, and I've used it for other things, so I'm really sexually screwed-up. I guess that's all. [end of message]

1:14 am, Wednesday, June 25, 1997

[the call deals with a collaborative zine idea of Jim and Anne's]

Okay, I can't wait, because it's so fucking good, and I hope you agree, but this is exactly what I want it to say: "Coming soon, all caps, the premier issue of a zine chronicling the lives of a newly-rehabilitated Nazi couple who are at long last learning to love again with the help of their very special young friend. Negro Love Child zine: Keep an Eye Out." Like it would say that at the bottom, "Keep an Eye Out." I think that's awesome. So maybe you can come up with something better, but I like it. I worked hard. I hope you like it. Call me back. [end of message]

10:13 pm, Wednesday, June 25, 1997

Call back! Please? Please? [little girl voice] Please? Please, Daddy Jim, please call back. Please, Daddy Jim? Oh, come on, please? Please call me back. Call me back. [end of message]

2:36 am, Thursday, July 10, 1997

[Anne is crying all through this message. Jim seems to have called her back and left her a voicemail message between this call and the last.]

I really wish you would call me back and tell me that stuff you were talking about. I'm glad to hear you're doing so fucking well. [end of message]

12:47 am, Monday, July 28, 1997

And I, too—I got cut off, the last message I just left, I had to call back—that when you fall into one of your bad moods, around me, and I look into your eyes, and you're gone, and we're not connected, it hurts me so fucking much. It really kills me. I know you can't help [it], but I do love you more than anyone else. But it's really hard to deal with.

1:18 am, Monday, July 28, 1997

One last thing, I promise ... Um, I guess when I made the joke about Kevin it was just to say ... I mean, I guess I was kind of bothered yesterday, too, when we saw Sean, just because you should KNOW by now, I don't know any other way to get this across to you—THERE IS NO WAY IN HELL, even, Jim, even if you call me up and tell me you never want to see me again, I AM NEVER GOING TO FUCK ANYBODY ELSE AGAIN. I'm crazy, it may be crazy, that's maybe really obsessive and fucked-up, oh well! That's the way I feel. I really don't want to go anywhere near anybody else. For the rest of my life. So ... [laughs] you were half-serious, or more than half-serious, that you thought I had an interest in Sean ... I thought that you must be the same way, or suspect from time to time that I feel about the other guys I'm around like Kevin. Fucking absurd! I'm like the woman who stalked David Letterman with you! I'm sorry, that's how I feel. You're IT. So, you know, that may not be what you wanted to hear, but I am that much in love with you, to the point where I am devoted for the rest of my life. So you don't have to worry about that. [end of message]

3:14 pm, Thursday, August 14, 1997

Hi, it's 3:10, and you hate me [laughs] Um, yeah, I know, I can't stop calling. This is NOT like pot, like you compared us to pot, our relationship to pot, you can't do just a little, you've got to have it all the time, all or nothing. Well, I still can't get over my habit. I haven't kicked it. [laughs] Yeah, this is awful. I'm craving you like mad. Now, my destination, because I have no one else to talk to, is to go to somewhere near Barbur Blvd. And have an interview for a job, under the table, a quadriplegic. So, that's exciting. Yeah, you really don't care. Yeah, you really don't care about this. Anne, Anne, why am I doing this? Anne, no, don't do this, this is making it worse, way worse ... But then if he says he's never going to see you again, then how can you make it worse? Um ... Well, I could make it worse because, well, I'm not doing anything to hurt you, though, I mean, I don't know, this is bothering you, probably, I mean I probably should just stop and leave you alone, but I really can't. Um, I'm really going crazy. [end of message]

5:29 pm, Thursday, August 14, 1997

Hi, it's me, and [starts crying] Oh my God, I have lost my mind. I'm on Barbur Boulevard and 22nd, and I just got done being interviewed by this fucking quadriplegic, and that was the most depressing thing I'd ever seen in my life. And he kept me there, and I said, well, I don't know if I could just work for that much money, $6.50 an hour, and he's like [unintelligible, something about wages, she's still crying] ... He was just so fucking desperate and lonely for company, even more than me ... so ... Oh, God ... It just all seems like way too much right now. Nobody exists in my mind except for you. I'm sick. I am the woman who stalked David Letterman. Oh, God, I'm deranged. Well, at least you're controlled-deranged. Deranged people don't make any sense at all. Like truly deranged. You're very consistent. Very logical. There's something deranged about that. [still crying] I wish you were as lunatic ... you'd feel better all of a sudden for no reason ... and want to talk to me again. You know how I said I always wanted love and I didn't know it would be this soon? I was always afraid I was going to lose my mind and I didn't know it would be this soon. Oh, fuck, this is hard ... just really, really fucking hard. [unintelligible] alone apartment, by myself, I don't want to go home, I want to hunt you down, I want you! [really starts crying] And find you ... I gotta go [unintelligible] get a drink. I'm going to go home, and I'm going to call you again. I'm sorry, and I saw that guy, him and his wife. You should have seen how limp his body was! So fucking desperate for somebody! Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me! [end of message]

1:24 am, Sunday, August 31, 1997

It's so much easier for me to talk on a machine than it is in person, and the reason why is that I can totally relate to Debbie. I wish I was you so I could be with Debbie right now. I knew you were going to find out I was Debbie. The new Debbie Goad. I knew you would find out. I knew I would break. I knew it would one day all get to you. My seemingly typical suburban lifestyle and such, and it seems like I create my own problems. Well maybe you just don't know what it's like to be depressed because you don't have a chemical imbalance! Fuck. Anyway, what I wanted to say to you is my head is spinning right now, my head fucking hurts and I'm really surprised that—I'm glad for you that your head is—you know, you call people like me and Debbie lazy and maybe it's just that people aren't as strong as you, okay? It's not a matter of choice. Maybe you're stronger and you have the survival skills, and you're rugged enough, and in touch with your roots enough to make that choice. But don't judge other people until you're in their fucking shoes. You're so fucking judgmental. Irrational—I'm being so irrational. And you're right, you're right, you're right. Oh, but you don't want me to say you're right, sorry! It's so hard to talk to you. I told you when I told you very personal things about me and my problems, that to me ... and I knew it, I knew it when—I just—I just sensed, okay, and maybe I don't know, but last night when you were talking to Merrilee, and you were crouching right in front of her, and the look of concern in your eyes—I've never seen you talk like that to me before! Or for that extended period of time! I know you don't think her problems are bullshit, cause you got into the car. So, you need a woman like that, and you will be with somebody, but I won't. I'm not going to last that much longer, babe. But, uh ... I don't really care what happens to me. I want to be—[voicemail time limit signal sounds] I want to be your slave. And I'll call back. Of course. [end of message]

1:29 am, Sunday, August 31, 1997

And you said that I can't stand to be away from you for one night. Well, that is not like what you usually say to me when you're in one of your bad moods when things like this happen. The way that you talk [unintelligible] You know, you talk about abuse being a two-way street, me with my sexual partners, well, you know, you let yourself, and you probably made Debbie feel bad, too, sometimes. I can't believe what came out tonight, how you feel about me, oh God, I feel stupid. Like you were saying about Debbie, oh my God, to think like something like that existed, that there's a person out there who'd understand you and wouldn't slap you in the face if you opened yourself up to them. 'Cause that's what this promise did [unintelligible, background noise, quiet speech] You're so in love with yourself, oh, God, don't ever tell me that you hate yourself. You think you're perfect, you think you're a robot. Not retarded like the rest of us. I do disagree with you about everything being related to race, and we're more in touch with our roots [?] I know you read it in books, but I don't think everything you read [unintelligible]. And how do you know that my experience isn't more traumatic for me? And you know what? You experiences with your dad were more traumatic than some starving person in Ethiopia or somebody in [?] or a lot of other people? So, you know, to compare, to make it out to be a contest, tell me my problems are bullshit, [unintelligible]. Thanks. [end of message]

1:35 am, Sunday, August 31, 1997

And I'll tell you the reason people can't "answer you," either. Because by the tone of your voice, and the way that you are so fucking powerful and intimidating, and Debbie was right, it is intimidating, and engulfing. It's just like [various sound effects]. And it's tiring, it makes your head spin, it's just, I know to you it seems very logical, but it's just that you state it, "This is the way that it is! And what do you think about that?" You know, and "Uhhh ... " Okay, okay, you always don't think people have an answer when you argue, or when you discuss with them, maybe because it's not like a discussion, you're not comfortable enough to think. Because of the way that you are, and you just sound like an idiot if you try to say anything. So, I'm retarded, and watch too much TV, and I guess the retards in Kentucky aren't going to intimidate you [unintelligible]. I hate it when you do your little TV Movie of the Week, too, you know, where the way you're trying to talk to me, like, "Just remember this, blahblahblah," like I'm like, "Okay, bye-bye, fond memories," or okay, I'll have my breakdown ... " What if I was like the woman who fucking shot herself? What if it did that to me? But I'm not going to do that, because then you'd have something to talk about all the time, like you talk about her. The people who killed themselves. I know you cried about that, but nobody ever killed themselves over me ... I always wished, cause I was weird, that when I was younger that my mom would kill herself or somebody would kill themselves in my family, 'cause then I wouldn't have to kill my own self. You probably don't understand. You know, I don't blame you, [unintelligible] crazy, and I like being around you, and the sex [unintelligible]. I just got done writing the 40th page about Jessica Johnson [time limit signal] and I'll just call back.

1:58 am, Sunday, August 31, 1997

[in the middle of message]

I'm not submissive, I think it's also hypocritical for you to say that you're not going to take being yelled at when I say "fuck you," but when you get irritated with Debbie it's okay for you to yell at her. And I've said that to you before but you said that she takes it. Well, I'm not going to take, like, when something really bothers me, or at any times when I get bad moods, there's no way—we could never live together, this could never—I can't deal with the yelling. I mean, I could deal with the yelling from you, but [unintelligible] [end of message]

1:38 am, Tuesday, Sept 2, 1997

Hi it's me, I just wanted to say that I'm probably going to go away for a week or two, probably until schools starts, community college. And I can't even think...I almost let myself be reeled in again, and I feel very intimidated by you still, and I'm used to being the one in charge, and being in control, and being the smartest one, and you're smarter than me, you're stronger than me, and it's just—I don't like that. And I don't want you to change, but I can't...I'm feeling overwhelmed. It's not really a competition, but I feel like we shouldn't see or talk to each other for a while. I just wanted to tell you that. [unintelligible] I am, to me in bad shape, and I don't like it at all, and so I can't talk to you for a while. And as far as lying and cheating goes, you are lying to and cheating on Debbie, for one, and remember with cheating, I don't want to have sex ever again feeling like what I'm feeling like right now. No sex drive whatsoever. I want to superglue my inner thighs together. Too much sex. I don't want any more sex. I feel like this whole year, well, actually my adult life has been my legs and breasts, and I don't think it's a good thing. I definitely know that if I hadn't taken drugs then I wouldn't have been in the mood for sex, probably not at all or hardly...Or I would have been in the mood but I wouldn't have been having you like that because I would have been self-conscious and really fucked-up about it, because I just am, I do, I place a lot of emphasis, because I do, it's like the closest I've been with somebody. [end of message, cuts her off]

1:46 am, Tuesday, Sept 2, 1997

[in the middle of message]

I might go to San Francisco, to get away from this fucking house, which you may think I'm lucky to be in, but maybe not so lucky once you're in it. But I guess it's my choice, and what I'm doing now is I'm making a choice to get my shit together, like you did when you were twenty-one. Oh, and I wanted to say to you, too, as far as you would have been jealous, and you used yourself as an example, that when you were twenty-one you would have much rather had what I had than having nothing at all. And I've been thinking it's just the opposite, and what you said about your father, too, it's like I used to wish that I had a father that beat the shit out of me so that I could say, "Look, I have the bruises, " instead of mental torture, where you have no idea what's going on. I sound like a spoiled suburban brat, and like you said a black woman in the ghetto doesn't have a chemical imbalance that me and Candace and whatsherface living in Vancouver, Angie, she does, too. You know, to say that I'm full of shit, or to imply that by saying that she doesn't have manic depression it's just bad nutrition, it's too much of who I am, [unintelligible]. It's like, that's who I think I am, and if you think differently, I can't deal with that. I know I can't deal with it. I don't want to deal with it. And of course you know that I love you, but I don't love being out of control and I don't love living at home with mommy and I don't love being suspicious. [end of message]

2:41am, Wednesday, Sept 3, 1997

[start of message]

I hate your fucking guts, and I wish this summer never fucking happened. I did it all to myself, and leave me the hell alone. Don't call back, forget about me...I'm disgusting, I'm ugly, leave me alone, leave me alone. [end]

1:02 pm, Wednesday, Sept. 3, 1997

Hi. I know I told YOU to forget about ME and it's so hypocritical of ME to be calling YOU after I said that. But (laughs) I'm a psychopath and there are a few things that I forgot to say to you...[talks about being angry that Jim had sex with Debbie after Anne and Jim fought]...oh, but it had nothing to do with revenge—it's just a coincidence that it was right after you hung up the goddamn phone with me, you know? I want to fucking castrate you, I want to stab you a million times all over your fucking body and do the things to you that are in Randall's magazine. That's what I want to do to you. I fucking hate your guts right now, and it's just proof to me that it never was, that it was all a lie, you said you had to look into my eyes in order to fuck me. Well did you look into her eyes? Did you look into any of those bar chicks' eyes?... So, I hate your guts, and I'm going to kill you, and I don't care what happens to you or your fucking wife, and I hope you die. [end of message]

1:29 pm, Wednesday, Sept. 3, 1997

...and I worship you and think that you're awesome and I'm so happy right now that you said you could get away. And after I was a total fucking cunt, which you should really beat the shit out of me for. Really, because that was so uncalled for. I think that now you owe me a couple bad moods...

5:40 am, Saturday, September 13, 1997

Am I still the sexiest woman you've EVER seen in your life, Jim? Was I ever the sexiest woman? Please call back and tell me. Tell me if I'm the prettiest and the nicest and the most together because I think you are. And, um, let me know what you're gonna do. Bye.

5:54 am, Saturday, September 13, 1997

Just wanted to let you know that without you I am nothing. Without you I'm nothing, just like Sandra Bernhard said. Okay. Bye-bye. [end of message]

5:56 am, Saturday, September 13, 1997

Jim, I love you so much, and I miss you a lot, and I wish you would come over and crawl into bed with me. Please do that. I love you, I want to take care of you, I wanna [unintelligible] you, I want to be here for you, I want to talk to you. And, um, I love you and I did not cheat on you, I wish you wouldn't think that ... I did what I did to get clean for you, and I do everything for you, and I love you. Bye-bye. [end of message]

3:18 am, Tuesday, September 16, 1997

Baby, it's me, and it's cold out-fuckin'-side. But I decided to bring the phone out here so I could have some privacy, since my mother's awake. I just wanted to tell you thank you, and I don't always express how much I appreciate you, but I really, really do, and I'm sorry that I'm having this weeklong withdrawal going on, but I want to get clean! ... 'Cause I want to get on the path to physical and financial wealth and health ... I want to be physically and financially fit. So that's why I'm doing this, and I just want to say that I love you, and my brain turns to mush when I'm around you, that's as much as I love you. And I just melt whenever I see you. You're the best boyfriend a girl could ever have, and I'm really lucky, and I look forward to seeing you, and, uh, I love you to death. I've never wanted anything or anybody as much as I want you. And, um ... I've missed you so much ... [end of message]

10:11 am, Tuesday, September 16, 1997

... You know, I joke around about it and stuff, but I really am sometimes, like especially now, I mean I swing back and forth, with being anti-feminist, and like, sometimes I get really extreme, and like, you say, like, you say, like, about the liberal media, and this and that, and I don't think the media is liberal enough, and I don't think that people are, you know ... like, my teacher, for instance, my instructor, I don't think she's enough of a feminist, and I think that college feminists ... I think that feminism needs to be reformed, and I don't think these women are strong enough, I think that they've got it all backwards, you know, and they're going about it the wrong way with their approach ... You know, and I think it needs to be emphasized more, and I think that girls need to kick MORE ass, and, like, go about it a different way. So ... 'cause I think they're really, you know, weak, and, you know, they make themselves look like idiots. Like the women that I consider to be feminists are like Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct or Lorena Bobbitt, ones that used violence, you know, and like beauty and power to seduce men and then, you know, take advantage of them and kill 'em. But, um, Courtney, things like that. But that's like my whole view on it. Sometimes I get really extreme with that. And like with the racism, too. Like sometimes I get so extreme with that, I'm like, "white people shouldn't even breed." I do think I feel that way. And, um, you know, I just wanted to tell you about that. And I do, like, get angry, because there are differences, you know, no matter how much ... maybe I'll just even LOOK for differences because it HAS to be that way, because nothing is perfect. It's not a Stan and Barb kind of deal here. There is going to be ... there are problems we have with each other. And these need to be addressed, if we want to keep it going. Well, so, I think that you need to evaluate your feelings for me, and you know, kinda just bring to the surface some of these things you feel about me. Anyway, I gotta go, but I love you and stuff ... I'm going a little bit crazy because I think that if something happened to Debbie I would probably kill my—[end of message]

12:45 pm, Tuesday, September 16, 1997

I not only got mail and heard from a dear old Riot Grrrl friend of mine, she actually is my friend, her name is Jennifer, but she wrote me a letter and I'll have to read it to you, too. We actually ARE friends. I just haven't heard from her in a while because she's been too depressed to write anything! Don't you love it? She lives in the 'burbs and she's a teenager. She says she's found a man who's ten years older than her and he's not abusing her. Just like me! I can't wait to write back and tell her! [laughs] ... [end of message]

4:38 pm, Tuesday, September 16, 1997

I just learned that love is not a feeling. It has to do with the way another person treats you. So, I thought that was a good lesson, and I ... I fully agree with that, 'cause you've been treating me the best out of anybody ... [end of message]

1:22 pm, Wednesday, September 24, 1997

Hi, it's me. It's really awesome, there's like this little poster right by the Women's Resource Center, so I wanted to see if your little theory was right about these women being extremists and everything, and feminists ... And I don't think it is, because I told you the only people I've ever met in my life were hicks. I mean, I don't think people are extreme enough. You know. I wrote this thing like, "Feminism needs to be reformed, like the women today like Kathleen Hanna and Andrea Dworkin, and they're all weak, and out of shape, and they give women a bad name," and how that we need representatives like me and Lorena Bobbitt," and um, that one chick who shot Andy Warhol, that you talk about, and the one who says like men are not cost-effective, and I was like being like really extreme, I'm like, "We need to castrate men," 'cause I was like reading this play Lysistrata, like they withheld sex to stop the war between the Spartans and, " ... and we need to withhold sex and blahblahblah." And so far I've gotten three responses ... And I put it in huge letters—I'm like, "Remember, all men are rapists" and like, "Use your beauty," you know, you've just got to read it, 'cause I just read this awesome thing, like, "Use your beauty to your advantage, and take men for all that you can, and like, yes, it's true that all men are rapists, but you know, all women are prostitutes, too." And I've gotten three responses thus far, and they're all negative. People saying to me, "Oh, great, what are we going to do after we cut off their balls, blahblahblah," you know, "this is not the right approach," and like, "Have you told the Women's Resource Center this?" And like, "Babe, you're crazy" and blahblahblah. So I've got three negative responses. Nobody's pro-my-way at all. So, I'm going to be a really big extremist, I think. I'm going to be as extreme as the Umoja guys. I think that's the direction I'm headed in. Alright, talk to you later. Bye! [end of message]

6:30 pm, Wednesday, September 24, 1997

I'm like, "we need to withhold sex, and castrate men, and fight fire with fire, and violence, and we need to get in shape and kick ass ... "You just got to see this, all responses to me, like I'm the big centerpiece of the poster ...

8:13 pm, Wednesday, September 24, 1997

I hate your FUCKING guts and I want to RIP YOU APART and DESTROY every fucking living cell in your body. I want to CRUSH YOU and take tweezers and pull out your FUCKING NIPPLES, and cut you up into a million pieces and scratch out your eyes and I want to chop off your FUCKING HEAD. I hate your GODDAMN FUCKING guts. You make me absolutely SICK. You're so FUCKING egotistical and full of yourself. And you're so RATIONAL and you're so NORMAL, and I know that since the very beginning you are a big fat poseur. You know NOTHING about white trash. You say it doesn't matter that I know about Stephen King and all this other crap, about them, but you know what? You don't know anything about their FUCKING CULTURE because YOU ARE NOT WHITE TRASH! Get it through your FUCKING SKULL! Because if you were—you know what my brother's doing right now? He's working in a factory job with a bunch of Mexicans. I love how you fail to mention Mexicans in your book. And white trash are heroes, my fuckin' ass. You know nothing about them. I want to talk to some of your friends, somebody named Darryl who had a fucking mullet who worked at a construction job or anything like that, or used a forklift. Hey, I've grown up around that shit my whole FUCKING LIFE, tweaker apartment after tweaker apartment, and your friends are a bunch of rich, aristocratic goddamn fucking ... trust-fund brats, okay? And you think you're so cool because you have one friend, Darius, who's black, your example of why you're not a racist. But you are A RACIST, through and through. And you have said—you know if all your friends, they genuinely do not like black people, then I KNOW that you do not, either. It's just something that I KNOW about you for a FACT. And you know, you have issues with women, you think everybody's a FEMINIST. I don't even know where you get off on that. I'm a fucking woman, I've been around for a long time, too, and I don't know any of these die-hard feminists you're talking about. I've never met one in my life. Your perception is all fuckin' SCREWED, and not even accurate as to what the hell the world's about and what's going on—you're living in a little literary SNOB world, that's where you are living, in a place where people are ... you know, and you're a WANNABE. Driving a cab is not exactly hard menial labor, okay, buddy? And I've done that kind of shit before. I don't think you've ever been a janitor or anything like that. So, and you want to complain because you're 36, you know, you're like, "I had to work my whole life," and at 36 you're retiring? Or what were you? Thirty-fucking-four? So don't even give me that crap. Debbie worked longer than you. And you're just full of shit in so many ways. You can't even own up to it. I, at least, and Debbie, and other people, we smear our shit all over the paper, and we say, "Look at me and how fucked-up I am." You do NOT do that at all. You come off as, like, lick my ass, I am the best, dadadadada, and you are NOT.

8:16 pm, Wednesday, September 24, 1997

And one more thing, too: Thank you VERY much, just like I thank my father for what he did to me. Thank you very much—I'm so fucking glad that you stuck around for four months, that this ended up like this, because now I know never, ever, never again, never again will I do this, or have any false hopes. I know now, I'm 21 and I'm going to save myself a whole lifetime of cancer-inducing heartache. Thank you. I'm just going celibate and I'm staying that way. I'm going to be a nun. Thank you. And you did give [Debbie] cancer, or you have to take partial responsibility for that. That's what I think. [end of message]

9:52 pm, Wednesday, September 24, 1997

[crying, breathless] I need to talk to you, I need to talk to you, I'm out here, I need to talk to you. Celibate, celibate. [end of message]

9:53 pm, Wednesday, September 24, 1997

I need to talk to you, it's really important. [end of message]

4:40 pm, Thursday, September 25, 1997

Hey, it's me, and I didn't realize how late it was, until just now. So I'm going to be down here until five, you know, I'd really like it if you'd come by, so you could tell me what's going on with your thoughts and feelings ... I'm sure you're pretty pissed, and that's totally understandable. I guess I did, um, I have to take some responsibility and say that I don't know how to handle a good thing and I don't think I deserve it and I try to sabotage everything that comes into my world and, um ... I don't know. I guess sometimes I don't know how to be nice to even the people I love. It's really fucked-up, but ... I thought we agreed last night that when I was in a cranky mood I just end up being a bitch, and I wouldn't call, and we wouldn't get together, but, um, I'm feeling really great right now, and I miss you a lot, and I'd like to see you, and I'd like to talk. And by the way, you know I didn't mean any of those things that I said. I was saying the meanest things that I possibly could that would get to you, and you could do the same to me, because you know what makes me tick and what would drive me fucking insane. We're both great at being mean, and that was it, and ... I think that we should talk more in person. So anyway, I do love you and I miss you a lot. [end of message]

5:10 pm, Thursday, September 25, 1997

I don't even know how I'm supposed to interpret that, so ... I suppose you cannot come down here, but you know what, I am SO obsessed, and I am so, you know you said I had to make a choice between school and you and I say fuck it, fuck everything else and I want you, I need you, I love you ... I think you're amazing, I think you're incredible, I think that I love you and I love the way you smell and I love the way your armpits smell and I love the way that your scalp smells and I love the way that your clothes smell, and I love the way that you taste and I love the way that you look. And I love to be around you, and I love the way that you make me laugh, and I love that you're so witty, and I [laughing} I worship you, Jim Goad! And I do truly, truly love you more than anything in the world, and those feelings overpower any sort of negativity, negative feelings which are actually my head and my mind, trying to, like the little voice inside my head trying to destroy everything for me, and convincing me, oh, he doesn't like you, blahblahblah, you need to break this up for these reasons, and it just plagues me, but you know ... those are just bad moods, and it really doesn't need to be that way, and I want to stay down here until the last bus at 5:47, and I may just take the 89 [bus], but I'm going to stick around here, goddamnit [laughs] and I'm gonna wait for you, because I was thinking, you know, maybe it's possible for you to get away if she was sleeping or something, and then you could bring her back some buds ... I mean, I'm not trying to ... I know you've got to stay there, but what good is it gonna do if you're just sitting in the basement, sulking and hating me?

6:15 pm, Thursday, September 25, 1997

I am so pathetic. Everyone's asking me, yeah, "who're you waiting for, blahblahblah," and I'm like, "My boyfriend." I'm just down here by myself, and I'm waiting for you, forever. Sitting by myself, and people are coming by, saying things, and so I think this is punishment enough, I've been punishing myself all day. So ... I hope you come by, so we can talk, and I want to see you, and maybe you would like to see me, even if you ... I would even like to see you even if you could just bitch me out. So, come on by, if you can, even just come by, I'll give you guys some weed. I'm still at Starbucks. Okay, bye. [end of message]

7:30 pm, Thursday, September 25, 1997

Where are you going? [long silence] I'm gonna lose my fucking mind. I can't believe this. I'm going home on the bus now and I'll call you when I get there. Fuck. [end of message]

7:38 pm, Thursday, September 25, 1997

[message is very hard to understand. Anne is crying, repeatedly asking where he's going, and how she needs to talk to him and ask him in person. She's extremely upset]

5:43 pm, Tuesday, September 30, 1997

Hi, um, I really miss you a lot. [unintelligible] I'm at home right now, just laying on the couch, and I miss you and I wish we could be together. I really wish I could see you. It was never enough time when we spent eight hours together, and it sure as fuck wasn't enough time today. Sorry, I don't mean to be whiny and complaining, but I do love you and I miss you so fucking much. [end of message]

9:57 pm, Tuesday, September 30, 1997

Oh, God, where do I begin? I don't know ... you know what? I am just a raging bitch. I'm still detoxing from all these chemicals, but I am naturally a really big bitch! And that's why I wasn't doing anything this summer because of all these outside factors—maybe you're more able to control—I don't know, with you, if, if I were you, and I were in your shoes and I had the cancer [to deal with] I would just be—I wouldn't have any feelings for anyone. I don't see how you're able to be nice to me. Because I'm a cunt as it is, and you know, the slightest discomfort and I'm screaming, that's how spoiled I am. Also, too, I guess I really did feel the need to defend myself from the way you're spoiled, and you know, insulting, the way you said, "that spoiled little bitch, Anne [a friend of hers]" about my friend, and about Mark. I hate to see you insult my friends and insult the town where I live, and make judgments about being spoiled ... And you know, I see you as being spoiled in some ways, in a lot of ways, and I know you've admitted that already, but like, that's why I bring up going to college and this and that, I don't really see you with any working-class friends, either. When, like, all your friends are pretty much spoiled, too. And I don't mean Pete, but all of them, they're all really spoiled. And probably more spoiled than my friends, they don't go off to Italy, they work jobs, my friends do, so, you know, it's kind of a contradiction there ... And like you're saying people are forced to work, the only people forced to work are white trash ... What about Debbie? She was working for all those years ... but, I don't know, I just feel the sense of her ... and ... I guess this message is to disagree with certain vibes I get from you, or certain things that you say, um, and I really can't formulate all that into words, because I am like Carl Jung and, you know, he said that he really put things that were going on inside his head into words and he wrote very well ... Um, yeah, I think my psychology teacher is really cool, and I really like things she said about politics. And I find myself like wanting to be a feminist a lot ... I'll go through periods where I won't shave my pits and my pubes according with all, like, feminist, you know, activations ... [another sentence, unintelligible, then end of message]

10:00 pm, Tuesday, September 30, 1997

And, you know, I guess it comes up a lot, and it's come up before in the last few months for weeks, whatever ... and I think it's just because, right before I met you—I really agreed with everything I saw in ANSWER Me! and heard about you, but then I thought you were going to do a redneck book that was kind of like bashing rednecks, and then when it was like a pro-redneck thing I kind of just set that aside, but I really did not agree with you, and I really hate white trash, I absolutely fucking despise them, and I think I kind of shoved that feeling aside, and it's always been lurking under the surface. And I never wanted to go to Kentucky. And I don't want to go on the road, doing the backwoods thing, either ... I just don't, because I need my bottled water and my aerobics stuff, you know? I think you should go and take the job and pursue it. Alright. Bye-bye. [end of message]