I can’t remember a time when music wasn’t important to me. The singer/songwriters ability to lift me up to the highest moutain and then bring me back down in despair has always been magical experience for me. The ability to cover words and emotions that I felt I was lacking or wasn’t able to express has been astounding, amazing or downright eerie.
Since I am unfortunately unable to carry a tune or even harmonize, I do however appreciate those that have that magical talent.
Over time, my music tastes have changed. I started out as a headbanging metal head, moved on to goth and dabbled in r&b and soul, only to flip around and now go back to the more hard core music, with enough depressive music to keep me satiated.
In college, I had the dubious notion of writing for the school paper, where I ended up becoming the Arts and Entertainment Editor as well as the On-Line editor of the rag. I had high hopes to eventually write for Rolling Stone as my goal 🙂 I expanded my interest in the music scene by dj’ing with friends at a public access station (i miss you guys!), interning/working at a commercial radio station and doing small by-lines for the local newspaper. Those years in college broadened my musical horizons so now short of country based artists, I am into “everything” (but then again who is not. But this is my page and I can do what the fuck I wish). My attitude towards buying cd’s is like books. There is soo much I want to hear, that I have decided to just start in the “A” section and go from there. My last big purchase was spending 120 bux at borders buying the rest of Sarah McLachlan cd’s that I didn’t have. (Plus new order and tori to boot!)
Category: The Lisa Chronicles
the un-moral animal
i got so depressed about having every page being “white” with black text, i had to change.
so this is my “change”. black background and silverish text.
i am in a funk. actually, i am in more of a funk. i am severely depressed. i had thought it had passed, because i get even more depressed during December, and now its mid-january, and i had my mania for the last few weeks, and everything looked really good, and now, its depression again.
i am trapped in this hell, that i have created and i don’t know how to get out of.
kalamazoo
I created this intro page because it was necessary for me to make sure that people understood what was going on through my mind.
Many people that have come to these pages have been ‘awed’ by what I write. I am really flattered. Never would I have thought that I would post up some of the more intimate works, or be so ‘open’ via a medium where everything and anything possible.
Majority of what I write is true. Yes, I did meet Michael in The Meeting. No, we are no longer together. Andrew made it from South Africa to the states and is currently in Boston. Chad finished his degree and is living in Ohio, Matt is working on his Masters in Psychology in Georgia. JR I never heard from, Jeff (|ucid) is still in Pennsylvania working on his degree. Scott and Jeff (from Augusta, GA) are both getting their MD’s this summer. DeMoNBoX (Robert) I have no idea about, last I heard he was in Dallas, then back in Austin. Mark is still married to his wife and living in Baltimore area. Greg is still in ‘Oregon’ and we are planning on meeting this summer (platonically) in Las Vegas.
My life has changed, so much, in the last few weeks, its hard to even fathom what is going on. In one swoop I got a job interview and a new guy located in San Francisco. -If- I get the job, I will be moving to San Francisco on May 10th, 1997, and living with my new guy.
He’s not mentioned here is he?
No, he’s not 😉
He said to me recently that he was a bit upset about the fact that I – haven’t- written about him or posted it up here. I think, for once, I am doing things differently. I have written many pieces for him, and gave him the URL to a server that I have access to. We are (for my benefit and his) kept it all low key. Very few people know that we are “together” and even fewer know his name. One day, maybe soon, I will post the whole romantic meeting 🙂
But, I digress. All the obvious events are true, and the poetry is of my own imagination. 🙂
Lisa M. Rabey
Kalamazoo, Michigan
April 24, 1997
break and submit
I have decided to start dating these because that way you know when I have put them up.
Today has been a busy day to say the least.
Got -one- message from you telling me you’re in a bar, and that “you miss me.”
bastard.
I really hate you right now.
And you know perfectly well why!
Have been looking through all my email, finally getting caught up on it. A few hours later, and I am still no closer to getting through it all. People responding to my posts, to my questions, wanting to marry me (laugh), proposition me, you name it, they want it.
What is also funny is that other lists I have been vocal on in the past, email from those people. So totally unrelated to h/p/c stuff, literature greats who tell me that they are now my fans. I feel like I am on the cusp, and I am really frightened. I never wanted this, any of this. I have changed ‘handles’ so many times, keeping myself underground as much as possible. I want people to like me for me! Is this something that -you- can understand?
Or am I being unreasonably paranoid about the whole venture? Or no? I have no idea anymore.
Back in high school, friends called me a ‘chameleon’ because I could move through everything and leave no trace, I blended in with everything. Later on, when I started writing for the college paper, I even went so far as to change my name (or attempt to). They wouldn’t let me. They told me that it had to be my ‘real name’ because it was college after all, and some other such jazz. People have also claimed to have seen me in two places at once. Hmmmm…
Anyway, I have been thinking about you quite a bit lately. You know that. You can’t ship out nearly a meg of email in a space of a few days, and plus irc quit a bit, and -not- think about the person.
SOO! Here is what I have come up with..
1. This all means nothing.
2. It means something, but I am taking it far too serious. You are in relationship jeopardy with your gf and I happen to come along and help fill those lonely nights (email wise). Not uncommon, happens a lot. You meet someone and think they are sweet.
3. Fuck it. I just re-read the letter I sent you the other day, that you haven’t responded to (if you ever will).
I won’t break down.
I won’t submit.
Not until you are free and clear.
Of everything. And even then it won’t be what you think it will be, IF it ever does occur.
death
I know, I know, I should be shot (my lovely catch phrase these days), BUT! I have been extremely busy. Things in the last month or so have been, pretty much hell, and trying to catch up on everything is seemingly worse off then I thought possible.
A lot of things have changed in my life, in the last month.
On December 22, 1996, my grandfather died. It was with the passing of his life, that I suddenly became more of a recluse into my own world then I thought was possible.
nuffin’
So many thoughts are racing through my mind. I have spent the last week trying to rebuild my computer after it died on me last Sunday. I had lost everything in the process of this crash, including all files and emails sent to me by ppl I care about. I often bitch about how important it is to keep everything backed up, but yet when Adam asked me if I wanted to keep anything before we reformatted my HD, it was a sincere ‘No!’.
And so, today, trying to get things straightened out, I had found the disk I had made before Michael and I had met. On it is everything he has sent me, such as the wavs and some various letters before we got email hooked up for him. I found the original picture of him on another disk as well.
I cried.
In the midst of all this “finding”, I had been currently ‘playing’ with 2 guys on a channel in IRC. I was not interested, the guys were more interested in each other I suppose, but, I typed a line every five to ten minutes to keep them appeased. Suddenly, I got sick to my stomach, and logged off. I just couldn’t take it.
Been keeping Michael off my mind as much as possible, but seeing that picture hurt. Thinking about *then* and *now* and thinking about how happy he made me feel inside, to feel someone that spiritually and soully (sp?) close to you, and then having it taken away. Its pain can not be matched by any other.
Found this letter I had written to Michael, but I am not sure if I had sent:
Michael,
Good Morning 🙂 I woke up so incredibly late that I had not made it to my eye doctors appointment. The story of my life…always running a little bit more late then the average person 🙂
So after doing the “what the hell am I going to wear scene”, I am sitting here smoking a cigarette and I thought that I would get started on writing to you excerpts from my journal.
Background:
I have always kept a journal at one point or another. But it has only been in recent years that I have been a little bit more consistent with my diary keeping. In the last 6 months, most of my thoughts and my ideals have been translated onto paper, and then on to the web. A few exceptions would be a few poems that I had written and put on the web via electronic means. There is no hard copy of said items. Just beautiful images that appear on your computer screen.
12-23-95
2:55 am
I can’t stop from thinking. I can’t stop the screams, the painful screams of agony. Live is playing on the stereo. I can’t stop thoughts that try to creep in my brain.
It hurts.
My mind is racing at speed that can never be calculated. I listen, over and over to the beat. I need something loud. I have to stop thinking.
I can’t take it anymore.
I threw in NIN, Pretty Hate Machine. I can’t take it. Trent can take away the pain.
What pain is that?
I wish I knew, my friend. I wish I knew.
My mind is filled with disease.
I have a horrible suspicion that my IQ is higher then what I’ve been told.
I wish it would just go away.
Trent is squeaking in my ears, cigarette smoke floating in my eye’s. Diet Coke in my veins.
God, this paper is so virgin. I can’t take it. I must fuck it up with scribbles. Someday someone will read this and think I was on crack. Maybe I am on drugs. I’m to damn high on life or something.
Images like movie clips rush through my mind. I can’t take it anymore. I can’t think. I don’t want to think. I just want to do. I just want…
12-23-95
8:50 PM
Its another long night. I can feel it.
I woke up at 1pm. I have no energy to do anything but mope around the house. I can’t wait till Tuesday! Time is flying soo slow.
I listen to the radio a lot. Heard about every damn song that existed. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. I do not know how I feel about that. I guess nothing. I guess I am, me.
Then and now.
Then and now.
My stomach aches when I think about this past year. Re-reading diary entries from the past, and still feeling the same damn way. Still feeling a[lone], and still feeling so damn hopeless and helpless about everything.
Michael’s namesake, Mierlyn, is crouched below my feet as I write this. Curled up next to the thingy where you plug all your computer equipment in (I have forgotten the name). Nothing feels right, nothing feels good, nothing feels eternal. And if I close my eyes, I can still see the look on his face the day we met. I can still see and smell him.
Michael, I miss you so much.
nothing
I am not sure how to begin this, but I guess anything goes.
Yesterday was Michael’s birthday, and he turned the ripe old age of 22. He’s still on my mind quite a bit, considering that we have been broken up for over 2 weeks.
My dad is on the phone with me now, discussing his will with me. He is 69 years old, and is in ill health. He is telling me that no one can know who the executor of his will is because its locked up safe and sound. I am not even going to go there.
I am talking to one of my oldest friends on the net, nobody-. He and I used to write this really lengthy letters to each other, and then it stopped.
I miss Michael. The name “Michael” itself seems to be a recurring name in my life. nobody- s name is Michael and so is mierlyn’s. My publisher’s name is Michael, and so is my long lost cousin from Australia. Plus there is the handful of Michaels that i have dated in rl, and so on and so on.
So I think I am going to stay away from Michael’s for a while. Well, actually, stay away from men in general.
It’s pretty hard. My roommate and I have been messing around, but after throwing up on him the other day, that was pretty much over with. It’s funny though how i can take myself away from that so easily, just detach myself, and think of nothing while I am going through the motions of “making love.
I care not who I am with, I care not whose body I am stroking, I care not who I am being intimate with. It does not matter to me.
