I just sent mail to my pal melissa and it pretty much sums my shit up, so I'm copying and pasting it here for your perusal. the irony here is that I say in the email how I'm not actually copying and pasting the text, hoohahhahahhh. yeah.
From: [ supafish ]
Date: Tue, 14 Nov 2000 03:47:30 -0400
To: Melissa Misicka
Subject: Re: AAAGhghgaRppth
you guessed right. I'm fucking dead, bitch, yeah. it's that easy. blagh. doing your laundry really sucks ass whenyou live in the bizarre subhuman space under an elevated train. it's really easy to get a girl's fone number but almost impossible to get off your ass and call it. reading david foster wallace makes me want to write very badly but then I get the laptop out and open up the blank word document and just stare at it and drool. whenever I get off the JMZ to switch to the F train an F train comes within 30 seconds but whenever I'm switching the other way (F to JMZ) I have just missed one by 30 seconds. give or take. if you saw my room right now you would assuredly comment, or at least internally acknowlege, the fact that it is in the exact same state of mess it was back when my room was on the 2nd floor of kennedy hall. there's this part of washington square that consists of three asphalt mounds, gently sloped and maybe 8 feet high each, that looks just like a 3D study sketch for maya lin's 'wave field'. for halowe'en I covered myself in red paint and marched in the parade w/a female freind of mine (who btw was also similarly pigmented) who assuredly will always be a good close friend of mine but will never reciprocate the sort of drooling physical attraction I have for her, cuz that's how this shit works. don't ever, ever get DSL from BellAtlantic (now Verizon!) cuz it's flakier than fucking raisin bran. I got a door and stuck it on 2 sawhorses and that's my desk now. it was fucking cheap and I got mad space to spread my crap out onto. it won't be easy to execute all the plans I have for the concerted slew of artworks I've sketched out in my book but for the first time in my life I have enough faith in myself to believe that I actually will do it all and it'll work out ok. I really, really want a cat, but my roommate hates 'em, but I think I have his ass against the wall on this issue cuz there were no mice anywhere when I left for england but when I got back, boom, I can hear 'em in the walls. he also puts dishes in the skink clotted with congealed gouts of food that could not possibly go down the drain and have to be removed by hand later, by me, cuz I can't stand the smell. I spraypainted the word 'RAP' in neon orange on my front door; now, when people are coming over I just say look for the door that says 'RAP'. it could be seen as an invitation, hardy har har. I miss school more than I ever thought I would. I had a grape-leaf pita sandwitch for dinner; it cost 3 bucks and was around 200x better than the 50 bucks I spent on some french braised chicken dealie the night before. I am kinda wishing I got the 60 gig internal IDE drive rather than the 80 gig external FireWire drive as the one I have now, the FireWire, is flaky enough that it blows up if I leave the computer on rendering overnight. when I was in england I had minimal internet access and only the shit on my laptop and I was about 200x more productive than I am here with 3 computers and a high speed line. there are 14 coke cans in my room and all of them have been voided within the past 48 hours. I can hear an idiling JMZ train in the station next to my apartment as I write this sentance. ok now it's gone. buying a cellular phone was a dumb thing to do and I would totally hate it except for the fact that I set it to say 'I RUN RAP' when I turn it on. my friends keep stealing my kobo abe books, and they do it so shamelessly too. people in britain did not immediately recognize my offhand comments about using crack cocaine as humorous untruths. my freinds are so much smarter than me it keeps me up late sometimes with inadequacy anxiety. I have no fucking idea how my cat at home in Newton has managed to get as old as she has and still smell good. I have recently developed a fetish for reeses' pieces. it just occurred to me that you might, for some reason, not believe that I wrote this email for you and in fact copied and pasted it to all of my friends. I just wanted to reassure you, MELISSA MISICKA, that this is not the case. in all seriousness I believe that my friend johnny is doing this as he has sent emails wherein a) any reference to myself has been via personal pronouns ('you' et cetera rather than 'fish' or 'alexander bohn') and b) he's referenced events that I could not have possibly been at or otherwise witnessed. yeah. the fetus 3D model I got off the web for free has a backwards foot, but I suppose in that instance I got what I paid for. it's a dark, dark day when your 30-day MetroCard runs out, esp. cuz most often this happens when you're in a hurry and you don't mentally log the fact that the turnstile says INSUFFICIENT FARE' rather than the typical welcoming 'GO' and as a result you get a piece of the heavy stainless-steel crotch-level beam at whatever morning-rush speed you're going at. I keep losing change in my room; I probably have like 50 bucks in like dimes just under the fucking bookshelf. for some reason my DNS entries for irunrap.com are all fucked up and no satisfactory explination of this is forthcoming from any of the authorities involved. every time I think I can handle drugs/alcohol I end up wracking myself with massive guilt paroxysims w/r/t my father and his faulty drug/alcohol neural wiring. even though I like my job I think I am not cut out for daily work so I am currently researching grants for art that I could apply for. in england there was a restaurant we went to called 'fish!'; they would not give me my food for free even after I showed them my RapCard. it was utterly pointless for the inventors of USB to make 2 separate connectors for USB devices, plus it's fucking slow as shit. I think at this point I would honestly rather get a nice, long backrub from a female than just have sex; unfortunately I have no female friends handy from whom I could attempt to procure this sort of service w/o the request seeming weird and maybe uncouth. I have no fucking idea where I'm going to put my air conditioner once I finally get around to taking it out of the window. I need to see: my shrink, my dentist, any decent optometrist, in that order I think. the word of the day is 'belletristic'. I am currently w/o a cd player and I have to use a computer to play cds; this is because I feel guilty buying electronic junk I can't somehow use to make art at some point. I haven't done anything interesting with the christmas lights in my room since I moved in here so they're boring. now I'm tired. it's your turn to write me back, bitch. yeah.