Interrobang's Journal: Stalking Skippy

Ahh, Skippy. It's been too long, especially since you haunt my dreams and consume my waking thoughts. Soon I shall 0wNz0r you, and then what will you do? After all, you can't be the PIC's evil twin and be safe from me -- that would be too much like giving up. You can't be the Human Voynich Manuscript and expect me not to want to solve you, can you? Heh.

Alas, the number of clues I have to go on is vanishingly small. I don't even have access to archives where I might find some of your few public writings (which would tell me far more about you than you might think you'd want me to know). All I have to go on are a few simple pieces of evidence.

I finally located your single digital footprint the other day, which was kind of like a half-erased track in the snow. Is that your real e-mail address? Does it work? If I write, will you answer? I wrote you once before, and you never did. I wish I could remember what I said, but that memory -- and the hard drive I had to back it up -- is long gone.

Know this: My spies are everywhere, even in your hometown, even lurking on those same fora where I don't quite dare to go myself. Soon, soon, I promise you, I will find out the definitive answers, after so very long, and then I will have you but good. You can't get away from me, no matter how hard you try. I even know that hardly anybody's seen you since September! (Did I depress you? Why do you think I'm trying to find you?)

Our friends will have you out to me, one way or the other. If it isn't the likely suspect(s), it just might be the unlikely one(s). I have ways, and I have more friends in low places than you might believe. I'm not totally what I look like, you know that. I am not the person you described as "WYSIWYG," remember? Even if that doesn't work, I haven't exhausted all my options. Yet.

This latest trace just gives me hope. You are findable, and I'm coming. Watch out.


Edit: Skippy, Skippy, Skippy... How am I supposed to find you if you can't even remember how to spell your handle right? I don't care how you spell it, "Skippy," "Skippie," or even "Skippi," but make up your mind!

Ah, the perils of a postliterate society. What's a poor stalker to do?

you are either doing one of two things...

[mekkab]

you are either using your journal as a breeding ground for pieces of your forth-coming novel: in which case I can't wait to read the next installment!

OR, you are just DYING to spill the juice on a gossip hound like myself- especially because its gossip about people I don't know!

Speaking of which- that brings up two reasons why I can't be a grade-A gossip. Despite my love for 'the dish', 1) I'm most interested in people I don't know, and 2) I tend to forget specifics REALLY fast. For example, "oh, yeah! I heard that this woman linda did something, and there was a guy involved, and it was, like, NAUGHTY!"
that's about as specific as I can get. Its sort of like how Wintermute couldn't know the name of Neuromancer? Well I can't know the gory details of gossip; I'm only left with squishy feelings.

Er, well, no, the third thing.

[Interrobang]

Actually, that JE was quasi-autobiographical, although it was written to seem like fiction; I'm not really stalking anyone, although I am in the process of finding someone who doesn't want to be found...by anyone, I think. Skippy really does exist; I really do have friend-spies reporting back to me on Skippy's whereabouts both real and virtual, and I really am trying to track Skippy using my good friend Mr. Google. I am not, however, being all eevil about it as one would surmise from my JE.

Why am I doing this? Simple. I want to apologize to Skippy, whom I suspect I've hurt rather badly (which is probably part of the reason for Skippy's doing a flee), and ask what I can do to mend fences and stay as high as I have been in Skippy's regard, because Skippy really does mean a lot to me.

The reason I'm using the name "Skippy" is because someone once told me that everybody's evil twin is named "Skippy," including the evil twins of some people I thought were other people's evil twins (Hi, Terry! Miss ya lots!).

I'm not currently writing a novel, although I half-finished one several years ago, then gave it up when Real Life promptly got Real Weird and invalidated it. If you like my writing, you can also see The Most Improved District [slashdot.org], if you haven't already. Which reminds me. I must get back to submitting my crap, because then everyone could read it without recourse to my /journal, and I might even get paid (what a radical concept!).