55 Minuts Til X-Files (2015 version)

Dear Internet,
In 1997 I was living with a dominatrix in a dump of a house in El Cerrito, California; a ‘burb of San Francisco. With barely any income, I survived by the generous help of others, my wits, and eating one meal a day.
Every Sunday night my roommates and I, plus circular friends, would get together for pizza and X-Files. This was our ritual, without fail, every Sunday for nearly a year. Even when I moved out with one of my roommates to a house in Oakland, we kept the ritual going. But after awhile, as all things seem to wont to do, X-Files and I parted ways. I was still somewhat of a rabid fan but the magic, and the lure of pizza, were almost gone. Pizza was now saved for video game binges and other special occasions.
I’m excited about the upcoming reboot but also a bit sad as I remember the supposed very last X-Files movie in 2008 where they made it pretty fucking clear that they have tied up all the loose ends, thus no more X-Files. The last shot was of Mulder and Scully in a raft, waving good-bye to the camera.
I was reminded by TheExHusband recently, when the news broke the X-Files were not only coming back but most of the original case (including The Lone Gunmen) would also in attendance, about a piece I wrote one evening before that week’s episode was on.
Here is that piece I wrote 18 years ago (!) about that one particular benign Sunday night, starring a rotating cast of characters in my life, before the night’s episode appeared. I’ve cleaned up the piece for grammar and spell checking but for the most part, it’s as it was when it was published all those years ago.

55 Minuts Til X-Files
The pizza has been ordered.
The seats have been staked out.
Simpsons are on and I am killing time.
My stomach still is grumbling from all the coffee I have had today. Maybe it is still regurgitating from the Taco Hell from last night. I have no idea why in the hell I am going to eat pizza. I should eat I suppose, but, for some reason food hasn’t seemed appealing in the last few weeks. Everyone is telling me how good I look. My mens pajama bottoms keep falling down, showing off my cute little underwear from Victoria’s Secret.
I laugh.


Every Sunday, at my house, is brunch day. My housemates and their friends all come over and my job, being miz coffee person, is to make coffee. I can cook, but I tell them I can’t. I just make coffee and swap stories with everyone.
Today I attempted to make bacon.
I burned it to a crisp.
I resolved just setting the table and making coffee.
Rob looks over at me and says “Lisa, I didn’t know you were so domestic.”
“Rob,” I say, “Tell anyone and you will die slowly.”
He laughed.
Brunch has become a tradition here. Every Sunday my two roommates and I prepare from having anywhere from 5-10 people show up. We all crowd around our tiny kitchen table and actually eat a home cooked meal. Eggs, bacon, steak, toast, fresh brewed coffee from yours truly. It sure beats all the frozen and fast food we eat on a daily basis.
A few hours later, we all grab movies and watch the afternoon away. Sleaze tests, teasing, arguments, and scalp massages are all part of the routine. Today, due to one of the guests having their kids with them, the movie selection was trimmed down. We all wanted to see Toy Story which I had on tape. Problem was, so were two other movies. Also on one of my tapes was a video declaration from Danny. Only problem was, I couldn’t remember which tape it was on. I called Danny and left a message. He called me back and told me what tape it was on. Grateful it wasn’t on the one we were planning to watch, I told him I would talk to him later and hung up. He called a few minutes later and said “When you have a few minutes, tape after The Lion King. I don’t want you to see what I said.” Slightly amused, I said okay and hung up.
We ended up watching Trainspotting instead.


This is what has been most amusing to me. Danny and I dated on and off for nearly year and a half. We lived together. We were together when my grandfather died and when everything else came tumbling down around me. But for some reason, I can’t conjure up anything but memories of him, and even those, are blanking out. I can’t say I even loved him. I used to think so, but, I can see I never really did. And my “coldness” for him, so apparent, when, not so long ago, when I had resolved that I would never treat him like I had, is something I can’t help.
The person Danny is, is no way related to who I am. It never was. My assertiveness, my aggressiveness, my lust for life, never matched his. He would have been happy living in Grand Rapids for the rest of his life, while I wanted to see the world. If my plans of marrying him, would have been carried out, I would have either cheated on him OR committed suicide within a year. How stifling that was. How limiting. He said, “You’re so special. You have no idea how special you are.” I laughed. I knew how special I was. I did’t need anyone to validate it. I have no remorse for being cold to him, then and now. I used to, but guilt, for being who you are, trying to fix something that isn’t really there, is not me. I no longer think about it. He asked me once, a few weeks ago, how would I feel if he moved and didn’t tell me.
I didn’t answer. I simply didn’t care.


35 minutes till X-Files


Yesterday, my friend Michael took his wife Beth and I down to the Lick Observatory in San Jose and to the Rosicrucian Temple as well. For over 20 miles we traveled up Mt. Hamilton, talking about various and sundry things, while I looked out the back window and dreamed. How beautiful the area was. How so, un-plastic it seemed from everywhere else I have been in California. It looked so New Englandish, with the leaves changing colors and the air crisp and strong. I wandered around the observatory and wished it wasn’t so foggy.
But I could still see into forever.


At the Rosicrucian Temple, I felt so at home. My love for the Templars gave me appreciation for this. Michael and I sat in a little area that had a fountain spilling water into a pool. We talked about various and sundry things. The changes in my life. My flying out to Pennsylvania to see Jeff. Michael’s marriage with Beth. My writing. Michael’s music. I opened up my backpack and took out my wallet. I dug out a penny and pitched it in, and made a wish. Not to be outdone, Michael pitched in a quarter. Not to be outdone, I dumped all my change out (about $5 dollars worth) and pitched it in with glee. I laughed out loud and spun around.
Michael and I walked around the Temple, wishing we could get into the Egyptian Museum, but sadly it was closed. As we stroked the papyrus (Direct from Egypt!) plant (“Looks phallic,” I said) we walked past the fountain again. I stopped short, and ripped off both rings given to me by two different lovers, Michael (a different Michael) and Danny. I tossed them into the water with nary a thought and kept on walking. I suddenly felt more free than ever before. I didn’t feel binded to anything. I didn’t feel as though I was making the past complete. I did not have to apologize to anyone. I didn’t have to make excuses for what I did. I could rid of it all.
I had told Jeff that, today, I was going to do the symbolic thing and burn EVERYTHING ever given to me by an ex-lover. Letters, clothing, stuffed animals, books, video tapes. Thinking of the hug bonfire this could produced, I have resolved just to do letters and stuffed animals. Now it grows late in the day.
X-files will be on in 17 minutes.
After that, I will be watching Leaving Las Vegas.
Hopefully tonight, under the moon, I will dance my ass off and burn it all baby. Just burn it all. What I wanted to do last New Year’s Eve…
Someone just knocked on the door.
Pizza Hut is here.
Time to go.
Till next time.



This Day in Lisa-Universe: 2012, 2012, 2003, 2000


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


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:
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.
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.
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…

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.


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.