Many of you have suggested (some even insisted) that I post this and take credit for it, so here we go:
Before You Were Crazy
[an ode to the KrazyPantz]
We talked through the night like two torrid geeks
We smiled as we thought of the six to eight weeks
That lay stretched before us, and agreed to meet
To see if this thing might turn out to be neat.
You brought me some drugs, we went out for a while
And then fucked like it was going out of style
The day after that we did more of the same
You said, “You’re amazing.” You whispered my name.
A few short days later, you started to freak
You asked me strange questions, you thought I would sneak
Around with my good friend, and shag him instead
You were angry I’d had other men in my bed
I tried to explain how I thought it should be
And you chided, berated and insulted me
Even though I was honest, you said I was not
But still, you kept saying, the sex was so hot
And you were falling for me, and you asked me again
And I told you the truth- there were no other men
You were sorry the next day for things that you’d said
Insisted you weren’t trying to fuck with my head
You wanted to see me, you wanted to try
So despite my gut feeling to tell you goodbye
I let you back in. What an error that was!
I told myself you weren’t crazy because
You were only a nice guy, afraid of the fall
I convinced myself you weren’t loony at all.
But three short days later, you freaked out once more
Sent notes to my friends, more or less declared war
And now, a week after I thought you had gone
You’re sending me texts saying let’s get it on
And the things that you said to me, you didn’t mean
And suggestions that range from funny to obscene
I’m sorry, my dear, but you’re clearly insane
And I can’t see how I would have a thing to gain
From trading you sex for a lesson in code
Or trying to downshift to “casual” mode
So I’ll make it as plain as I possibly can:
Please stop it, just stop it, you KrazyPantz man.
Think he’ll get the hint this time?
I only wish you could do this poem at a live reading so that we could all point and yell “Jackass!”
Partly because it seems the thing to do here but also partly because I really enjoy pointing and yelling “Jackass!”
Point at the crazy guy, I mean.
That was clear, right?
You try fucking Louisa, and then hang on if you can.
Not worth my time, really, nor the $100 parking ticket.
Next.
Nor is she worth obsessing over… Crazy Pantz is misspelled with a K, so I am left to assume you know just who you are. And if knowing is half the battle then you must savor the short end of its stick. KP, i have to ask… is it the attention that is derived from bothering others? If she is not worth your time, why are you reading her website and feel the need to leave a posting?
And yes, a friend, a true friend is always worth a parking ticket… A true friend is priceless.
Do you like to affect others? Does it make you happy to stalk over computer… Do you like that… to hurt by implication? Do like having people know you might be around… waiting?
This has happened before, hasn’t it… women rejecting you. Your reaction has probably been the same, weird, the familiarity, isn’t it? Like bad breath, or that of a stale life. This is but one link in a long chain shackled to yourself.
Are you your biggest fan?
Are you reading this right now soaking in your own spite? From the Ode, it looks to be over, move on. But see, you like this… assumed power and control. You like knowing that someone on another end of a monitor is affected by you. Why are you looking up this website… like it’s a mirror?
Narcissus drowned in the water… learn to swim.
See, here is the best part about my posting… If you reply… you have justified my point therefor humiliating yourself… to yourself. In fact, reading this posting does the same…
Starling Crane…
Off the perch and into the blue day sky.
haa haa!!
this is amusing, really it is, if only for KP’s “Next” comment.
Next what? Next chick to stalk and diss? Or next one of Louisa’s friends to point and laugh?
My vote would be for the latter!
Looks like that KP freak is tearing up on the CL. Yipers.
Somewhere between the two poems lies the truth.
http://chicago.craigslist.org/rnr/16049632.html