A Random Image

Jett Superior laid this on you on || July 24, 2003 || 11:05 pm

Dear Co-Worker of My Spouse,

Hi…you and I have never ‘officially’ met, talking only briefly on the phone as we have, so this post is rather awkward for me. As you can see from this space, I have a propensity for speaking my mind. I can put on a pretty face for the public, can be decorous and tactful with the best of ‘em when I so choose, and I do when necessary…if only to make life a little simpler for my spouse and my children.

But this place, this little section of Cyberia, it is mine to decorate unfettered by the pinheaded convention that I have to muck through in everyday life. I am a big fish in a little pond. I don’t know why the fuck I am still here on this mountain, still among people that –ultimately– view me as a freak and an outsider and always will. But I bear it for now, as this seems to be my lot, and I bear it well. I do not remove myself from the community that would just as soon excise anyone like me from its midst.

You see, I find Sand Mountain crippling; it chokes me and has ever since I was power-played (something of the ‘if-you-want-to-be-a-family-then-you’ll-come-here-otherwise-I-want-a-divorce’ nature) into coming here eight years ago. The reasons I started and as yet maintain this site are manyfold, but one of them is that I can exuberantly be ME here: The me that plays with words and ideas and swears like a sailor and laughs at and muses over life in turns. The creative me, the individual me, the me that this community squelches to a degree. The me that I missed so long after coming here; the missing me that I mourned so deeply at one time that I would have rather taken my life then step one more boot outside onto the red clay of this place.

My site is liberation of mind and soul until such time as I can pack a trunk and get the fuck off this godforsaken hill, doing my damndest to not have to look back. Having said that, I must tell you that it was a horrible invasion of privacy that my husband committed this afternoon when he brought you here. He had no right. There are maybe two or three local people who read what I hang here, and that’s because I’ve shown them this place, because they’ve merited it, because I can trust them to not roll my business all down mainstreet like a cheap parade (as people here are wont to do, but you know this, being from this area). Okay, maybe my former boss reads it, too, because she’s a nosy bitch, the sort that digs through the trash for seemingly innocuous scribblings haphazardly thrown out (hi, you backstabbing cunt…I don’t work for the company any more, and you can BET I’ll have some things to say to you when I’m in your neck of the woods….sorry I’ve not phoned, but I’ve been saving them for a little vis-a-vis thing, you unnerstand. Didn’t think I knew you were here, did you? Didn’t think I knew about the trash thing either, didja, you silly twat?).

Sure, I never ruled out the possibility that one day someone from our town or one of the handful surrounding it would find this site…I just never entertained the idea much, as it was slim to none and I’m not paranoid to such a degree. I generally choose to deal with things as they present themselves rather than worry about potential nothings.

Anyway, my husband bringing you here was invasive to and disrespectful of me. He knows the semi-anonymous nature of this site, and it was thoughtless and, to a degree, unkind of him.

And honestly? It hurts that he would have so little regard for how I feel regarding this. It speaks of an insensitivity and a disregard for my feelings on the matter. I know how and why you came here, and I could have told him exactly where to find it, had he only called. This one little incident speaks of larger issues, and it is not my wish or intent to wash you in any of the muckier bits of our marriage….

It’s nothing personal, co-worker, but I just don’t want you here. Please don’t come back. If you do, then at least bookmark the site and don’t keep entering the way you came. At least that way I won’t have to think about your presence here. I don’t want you here because I am the ‘freakshow wife’, but because my words draw you in and make you catch your breath, or think, or, or, or….you get the picture.

My spouse knows that he is free to come here at any time and wander around, but I laid down the rule from day one that nothing appearing here should be tabled for discussion. Most things, hell, we’ve already volleyed between us, but I don’t want to know the whys or whens or the wherefores of his visits here. It would simply be too cumbersome for my fingers to have this knowledge, a knowledge that might retard their effectiveness in communicating my ideas and feelings. So, as we don’t discuss it, I would ask you –if you choose to come here on a regular basis– to do the same. Read what you will if you must, ponder it, comment if you like, but don’t make what I put here fodder for your discussions with my spouse.

I hate that I even had to write this. I fucking hate it.


8 worked it out »

  1. Patti 7.25.2003

    I cannot help but love a woman who can effectively use the words “cunt” and “twat” in the same paragraph, and in a way that makes must bust out laughing. Lemme know when you come down off that mountain, I owe you a shot -n- a beer. Here’s to you, Miz Jett. *clink*

  2. Jett 7.25.2003

    Peanut, Patti??

  3. Patti 7.25.2003

    Why, yes, thank you. ;-)

  4. Dean 7.25.2003

    Remind me never to piss you off, k?

  5. cal 7.25.2003

    You know, however many times I think about it, I know that men don’t think with the right part of their anatomy, thus they commit all sorts of acts of complete stupidity. Women think with their noggins, which is why I exalt in being a lesbian.

  6. Kate S. 7.25.2003

    I wish I could see into the future–will we all end up having to reside behind gated communities, for protection?

    As repulsive as this sounds now, there may come a day when we have to install password protection, to keep out those creepy voyeurs and malcontents. And snipers. I hate those snipers. They lay in the grass and spring out when you least suspect it. But, you did a good job, beating the grass, I must say.

  7. Lisa 7.25.2003

    Men are such dumbasses. My husband called me from a meeting on a speakerphone one time asking me for my url, to show someone a picture on my site. Of course I’d already told him not to tell anyone about it. Needless to say, I hung up on him :)

  8. laura 7.26.2003

    yeah, i know that my writing has changed since now a number of people i know irl read my site. and last weekend my ex found my site. you know why i started my site? because my ex READ MY JOURNALS!! well, if he digs in the archives, he deserves what he gets.


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