READ ME ... yeah, right. Right?

I'm sick of everyone else having on-line diaries. I want one too.

What is this all about? Maybe you should read the READ ME READ ME.

august 29, 1996: O F F L I N E !


I have too much on my mind. I need to clear it all and re-sort it out again. Some people tell me that the best way to do this is by means of taking hallucinogens. But I am not really into that.

So, I am going to do it by getting the fuck out of this rat-infested apartment. It stinks in here. It was bad enough that I saw a rat scamper across my floor the other night ... but now I have to smell a dead one? Or something?

The landlord said that if there are any rats, then they are there simply because I have a pet rabbit in here, and that if he decides to come in here and remove the rats, that he will also remove the rabbit. He says this even though the rabbit lives in a cage in the living room. He says this even though the rats seem to live in the kitchen, under the stove, in the walls, and under the floors.

That baseless statement made by my landlord, delivered to me by my building manager, is a good metaphor for the way I perceive a lot of other human interactions I am dealing with right now.

It is so easy to point a finger at one cause, and not listen to alternate explanations. It is so easy just to assume that you are right, without investigating into the details of the matter. It is so easy just to do whatever the fuck is convenient for you, and not give a shit about anyone else you would be affecting by means of your decision. It is so easy to steal someone's rabbit.

I refuse to do that.

I am going to go out to the desert, with my powerbook and some good reading, and I am going to sit under a purple sky and sort things out. I am going to prioritize. I am going to think about all the other people in the world, and the many many ways there are of seeing something and doing something. And I am going to focus on my ultimate goal, which is, and which has been, writing and producing. And which is, and which has been, trying to do the right thing. And which is, and which has been, feeling good about the way I treat other people. And I am going to meditate on what I would like people to say about me at my funeral, and how I can attempt to act so that when they do say those things, they speak the truth.

But the dead rat under my stove gets no funeral, no eulogy. I am leaving it here, to decompose in this stinky apartment, and to melt itself into its own corroding flesh, while I drive into the sunshine that holds the future that awaits me.

And so I will be off line four over four days, which is longer than any amount of time I have been off line since 1993.

You can still write me, of course. But please do not expect me even to read the mail until well into next week.

The road is going to be a bumpy one.

But I hope to be better prepared.

Have a Great Day,






or, if you must, back to Rebecca's Revenge

Copyright 1996 Rebecca Eisenberg All rights Reserved.