92 and 93 email

From: Stacey Marchenkova
To: dom borax, Marcus, Elsa, Dominique, Crisps, Fryman, Wilma Petranoff, Lou, Sus’, David M, David A, Pete, Cath, Kiki, Gill, Lou H, Nick
Sent: Wednesday, June 27th, 1999 23:45 PM
Subject: Friday night dinner

Hi all…on Friday I am no longer a teenager…I am a woman…an ironic woman…who feels a little sad about it all…

so please share this ironic moment with me at Il Mondo…Kangaroo Point…at 8:00…I promise I’ll only be sad during entrée…then I’ll get drunk and flash my tits…


Love
Stacey.

PS This year I will be accepting presents…but as long as it’s second hand…something regifted please…

From: Dominique Doyle
To: Dom Borax Stacey Marchenkova, Marcus, Elsa, Dominique, Crisps, Fryman, Wilma Petranoff, Lou, Sus’, David M, David A, Pete, Cath, Kiki, Gill, Lou H, Nick
Sent: Thursday, June 28th, 1999 8:31 AM
Subject: RE Friday night dinner

Hey Stacey (and all) I will be there. I’ve found you the perfect gift. Quick question – do you like Jigsaw Puzzles?


Dominique

PS Do you mind if I bring someone? I’ve started this ‘too soon to talk about’ thing with this chick named Deb’. She’s cool. Lez’ but not too lez’.




From Gill Shepherd
To: Dom Borax Stacey Marchenkova, Marcus, Elsa, Dominique, Crisps, Fryman, Wilma Petranoff, Lou, Sus’, David M, David A, Pete, Cath, Kiki, Dominique, Lou H, Nick
Sent: Thursday, June 28th, 1999 9:26 AM
Subject: RE Friday night dinner

Hi Stacey, I’m so sorry but Kiki and I are out of town this weekend. We’re going up north for his parents wedding anniversary. I’m not sure why. It’s not a special year and they don’t really like me.

I’ve found you gift by the way. Kiki won it at last year’s exhibition. I’ve had it sitting in the kitchen for a few months. It scares me. But I know you’ll like it.

It’s porcelain and kitsch. And I know you’ve had your eye on it.

Happy Birthday
Gill




From: Crisps
To: Dom Borax Stacey Marchenkova, Marcus, Elsa, Dominique, Fryman, Wilma Petranoff, Lou, Sus’, David M, David A, Pete, Cath, Kiki, Gill, Lou H, Nick
Sent: Thursday, June 28th, 1999 11:53AM
Subject: RE Friday night dinner

Fuck yeah – I love Il Mondo. I’m going to dress up as one of those Venice boat-guys. I might even bring my own punt.





From: David Angus
To: Dom Borax Stacey Marchenkova, Marcus, Elsa, Dominique, Wilma Petranoff, Fryman, Lou, Sus’, David M Pete, Cath, Kiki, Gill, Lou H, Nick
Sent: Friday, June 29th, 1999 13:01 PM
Subject: RE Friday night dinner

Yep me and Lou will be there. We might be a little late as got a work thing to go to before. So start without us.
David and Lou




From: Cath Leaman-Walsh
To: Dom Borax Stacey Marchenkova, Marcus, Elsa, Dominique, Wilma Petranoff, Fryman, Lou, Sus’, David M Pete, Cath, Kiki, Gill, Lou H, Nick
Sent: Friday, June 29th, 1999 13:01 PM
Subject: RE Friday night dinner

Hello Stacey, Pete’s out of town at the moment doing a gig in Wagga. But I’m home alone. So I’ll be flying solo and flashing my tits with you.

Love
Cath




From: WKP
To: Dom Borax Stacey Marchenkova, Marcus, Elsa, Dominique, Fryman, Lou, Sus’, David M, David A, Pete, Cath, Kiki, Gill, Lou H, Nick
Sent: Thursday, June 28th, 1999 22:01 AM
Subject: RE Friday night dinner

Fryman and I will be there. Is it byo? And can you make sure we don’t sit next to Sus’ and David? They’re starting to smell like each other and it freaks me out. :)




From: Sus Kristofski
To: Dom Borax Stacey Marchenkova, Marcus, Elsa, Dominique, Wilma Petranoff, Fryman, Lou, David A, Pete, Cath, Kiki, Gill, Lou H, Nick
Sent: Friday, June 29th, 1999 9:13 AM
Subject: RE Friday night dinner

Hey Stacey, happy birthday. I hope this isn’t too late but Dave and I are keen as all get out. I’ll ring you later today to confirm.
Sus and Dave

PS Hey, Petranoff – you’re the one that’s starting to stink like your bloke. And he smells like Centrelink! In your face! :(

From: Stacey Marchenkova
To: dom borax, Marcus, Elsa, Dominique, Crisps, Fryman, Wilma Petranoff, Lou, Sus’, David M, David A, Pete, Cath, Kiki, Gill, Lou H, Nick
Sent: Friday, June 29th, 1999 11:42 AM
Subject: RE RE Friday night dinner

Hi All, a quick answer to all your questions:

Dominique: Absolutely bring Deb…look forward to meeting her…is she the double-bluff tart who really is a tart that you’ve had your eye on? Hey – also love jigsaw puzzles – especially ones of clowns.

Gill: Bugger to hear you and the K-man are out of town…keep your head up…and if his folks get too tiring…take it as a life-lesson not to be like them when we’re old and bitter.

Let’s catch up when you’re back so you can share some more of his horrible mother’s stories. (Sorry, K’ I know you’re reading this – but you know it’s true)

And is the gift that weird mongrel china dog with the sponky eyes and missing ear? I hope it is.

Crisps: You’re an idiot and I love you.

Dave and Lou: Get here when you can. I know you’re busy and I’m really looking forward to seeing you. It’s been ages.

Cath: Who needs Pete anyway…he’d be way too interested in us flashing our tits…indeed they all will…so how about we make it a date…ladies lav’…11:30 you me and the mirror…

Wilma: Yes it’s byo...and you are so sitting next to Sus and Dave…just to see if you’re going to smell like each other by the end of the night.

Sus: Read above.

Lou and Nick: Haven’t heard from you…will keep a couple of seats free in case you get this in time…but no worries in case…speak to you next week…

Dom and Elsa: Aren’t you going to reply either? It’s my birthday, buster… come on…anyway see you tonight.

Love to all
Stacey

92 email

From: Stacey Marchenkova
To: dom borax < mailto:printthisplease@printthis.com >
Sent: Wednesday, June 27th, 1999 20:12 PM
Subject: RE RE RE RE RE RE RE RE RE RE Matrix and Election

Dom,

Yeah – let’s catch up…actually it’s my birthday on the weekend…Friday…I wasn’t going to do anything…just hang with Marcus…but maybe we could go out for a bite to eat?

I’ve got this friend….whose folks own a hotel…Il Mondo…anyway…the restaurant there is really lovely…good Italian…they do a mean calamari…so tender…marinated in passionfruit, I think…or some citrus…actually I think I’m making that up…but it is good…

So if you’re free maybe we could have a bite there…bring Crisps and some of the gang…what do you think…?

I know it’s short notice…that’s because I’m a little neurotic about birthdays…reinforcement of time, I guess…

But this year I’m feeling sorry for myself…no longer a teenager…I feel...maybe... I need to do something…

What do you think…if you’re keen…I’ll send out an invite…


Sxx

PS Do you think I should invite Keith…?

91st email

From: Dom Borax
To: Stacey Marchenkova
Sent: Tuesday 26th, 1999 13:25PM
Subject: RE RE RE RE RE RE RE RE RE Matrix and Election

Also I forgot to mention that I ran into Keith yesterday. Do you remember him? He was the guy that Elsa took home just before we hooked up. It was strange to see him.

Without Keith I’d still be single.

Without Keith I’d be sad and lonely listening to the band Bread and cooking bread

“If a loaf of bread takes a thousand kneeds
Then why do I need you…”

Anyway, there I was, coming out of class yesterday and heading toward the refectory.

As I neared, I saw Keith. He was standing just off from the entrance, near the balcony overlooking the pool and oval.

I started to move toward him.

But he caught a glimpse of my approach.

He ducked behind the refectory door and hid among a few empty tomato stained chip packets and browned apple cores.

Indeed if there was shadow I’m certain Keith would have crouched in it.

I, naturally, hesitated at this point.

Why was Keith hiding from me?

Was it because he finally understood that there was more to the Universe than him? I mean, this would’ve blown his brain and he ceraintly would’ve needed to hide, ponder, eat some chips and catch his breath.

Or

Perhaps he was hiding from me because he was wearing just the bottom half of a large furry animal-like costume-charcter-suit.

Yes, the more I think of it, I suspect he was hiding because of this.

I mean who wouldn’t? No one wants to be seen wearing half a suit. Where’s the magic in that? Where’s the illusion? Where’s the anonymity? Where's the pride?

Anyway, there was our Keith. He had the bottom half of this Koala costume on. Truly exposed.

Actually I have to be honest here - I’m assuming it was a Koala. It might’ve been a cat or rabbit. All I could see was paws and grey fur.

And, now I remember, I presumed it was a Koala because there was this environmental plastic bucket with a sticker of a Koala on it.

So my assumption was warrented.

The bucket was filled with small change resting by the limp, dead top half of the costume.

Indeed the sweaty grey fur actually dangled part way into the bucket like a greedy banker searching for any form of bonus.

Whatever reason, the image was too great not to interrogate. So I continued to wander over.

Me: Keith?

Him: No.

Me: You’re Keith.

Him: No, I’m a Koala.

Me: Keith the Koala?

Him: No, just a Koala.

Me: Okay, okay, I understand you have an identity to protect.

Him: Yes.

Me: But you’re only protecting your lower half.

Him: The Important half.

Me: The Important half?

Him: (Sotto) The penis.

Me: I get you.

Him: And so do they--

--said Keith as he pointed toward some female Legal undergraduates as they quickly marched into the refectory.

Me: But deep down you’re Keith, right?

Keith looked around to make sure no one was listening. He whispered:

Him: Sure. Okay. I’m Keith. But don’t tell anyone.

Me: Who am I going to tell?

Him: The Wilderness society.

Me: Why are they dangerous?

Him: They’re the Wilderness Society.

Me: Aren’t they a conservation group?

Him: Yes.

Me: All about the protection of natural habitat.

Him: Yes.

Me: Passive and peaceful.

Him: Yes.

Me: So what’s the problem?

Him: No problem. I’m just Koala #31. Okay?

Me: Not Keith?

Him: No. Not Keith.

Me: Okay.

At this point there was a lull in the conversation. Keith looked around; making sure no one was watching and started to put on his Koala head back on.

It was saggy foam number where the eyes drooped dipsomaniac-like and the rubber black nose had been picked at by some obsessive charity worker.

Keith then took a breath and picked up his plastic donation bucket. He shook it, rattling the coins inside and started moving into the refectory.

Me: You don’t remember me, do you?

Him: I’m working, now.

Me: I kicked you out of my home.

Him: Can’t you see I’m busy.

Me: I was a little rude.

Keith then stopped. He stared through the bloodhound matted eye holes; rage building.

Him: One minute.

He said shaking the bucket. He repeated:

Him: One minute. One dollar. I’m not free, you know.

Me: I have to pay you?

Him: I’m not a cheap whore.

Me: Really.

Him: I have my pride.

He said as the back of his costume slipped a little and I got a brief glimpse of his underwear.

Me: Will you hold me after?

Him: No. Why would I do that?

I shrugged in response and took out a dollar from the pocket. I dropped it into his bucket. I hesitiated:

Me: Oh, how will we know when the minute is up?

Him: Just because I’m a Koala doesn’t mean I don’t have a watch. Jesus Christ! Noble-fucking savage syndrome, I tell you.

He said as he lifted his watch too closely to his gouged out eye holes.

Him: So what do you want to talk about?

Me: Elsa.

Him: Who’s Elsa?

Me: The Girl you took home.

Him: I take a lot of girls home.

Me: From the dance party?

Him: Still a blank.

Me: It was only a couple of weeks ago.

Him: Do you know how many I’ve slept with since then?

Me: Koalas or Humans?

Him: What?

Me: Nothing. Look, Keith—

Him: Koala #31—

Me: Koala #31, I just wanted to say thank you.

Him: You’re welcome.

Me: You don’t know what I’m thanking you for, do you?

Him: Being me?

Me: No.

Him: Saving the planet?

Me: No.

Him: Giving you something to aspire to?

Me: No (beat) What do you mean? Aspire?

Him: To be me.

Me: No. I wanted to thank you for Elsa.

Him: Who’s Elsa?

Me: The girl you slept with. See if you hadn’t been there, I would’ve never found her.

Suddenly he turned. I could sense his benevolence snapping.

Him: What do you mean found her?

Me: We’re together now.

Him: You scumbag.

Me: What?

Him: You binbag.

Me: Excuse me.

Him: How dare you you sleep with my girlfriend.

Me: What are you talking about?

Him: I love Elsa.

Me: You didn’t know who she was a minute ago.

Keith then lifted his watch to his face; remembering our transaction.

Him: Times up.

He then hitched up his Koala costume and sauntered into the refectory; calling passionately for donations.

Most ingorned him and soon he’d made his way through and moved onto the Medical building.

So that was my Monday and my second encounter with Keith.

I really hope I see him again. He’s too much fun.

Oh and forgot to answer - next weekend – we have no plans. Do you want to catch up? Couple’s double date, maybe?


Dxx

90th email

From: Dom Borax
To: Stacey Marchenkova
Sent: Tuesday 26th, 1999 11:32AM
Subject: RE RE RE RE RE RE RE RE Matrix and Election

Stacey,

God, last weekend was so far away.

Friday we went out with some of Elsa’s friends from the dance company she works for.

Dance types can certainly drink.

It was fun though. Not much conversation but come 3:00am they took over the dance floor. Elsa was the lead. Everyone wanted to dance with her. I wanted to dance with her. But I was quite far back in the queue. So I danced with Anyone instead.

Can you believe it? Amazing what vodka, jealousy and lust can make you do.

Saturday was a quite day. It was nice not having to entertain an odd man in our Kitchen. I think Elsa feels a little lost without a stranger wandering nude.

So I changed my name, put on a homeless hat and stripped down to make her feel comfortable.

My God, I’ve become the strange man in my own Kitchen!

Anyway for the rest of the day Elsa and I had a quietee. She’s not much of a talker – more a sleeper. Funny how I thought that was endearing a few weeks ago.

I cooked a big breakfast – at 3:00pm

And at dinner time and we watched a couple of movies. Elsa really likes dance movies so we watched The Red Shoes and The Turning Point. I liked The Red Shoes (fell asleep during The Turning Point)

Sunday we had dinner at her folks. I’ve known them for a while and Sunday roast is a ritual. We didn’t tell them that we were seeing each other though – still played the "just friends" game.

It was kinda awkward because the evening’s focus of conversation turned to Elsa’s romantic life with suggestions from all of her family about who she could possibly date.

Her mother thinks she should date a doctor; an Irish doctor; an Irish catholic doctor.

Her father thinks she should become a nun.

And her brother, Kieran, suggested -- me.

Kieran:Elsa should marry Dom as they are already kinda married.

There was a strained moment of silence.

I looked at Elsa. She looked at me. But before we could respond; both of her parents burst out laughing.

This was extremely awkward as this gesture made it apparent how her parents thought of me as a suitor.

After the laughter the brief conversation went something like this:

Elsa’s Mother: Actually Dom, if you changed your degree to medicine – you could be in with a chance.

Elsa’s Father: Dom, finish your potatoes.

Elsa’s Mother: And there’s some Irish blood in you, isn’t there?

Elsa’s Father: Dom would you like some more wine?

Elsa’s Mother: And I’m sure I’ve seen you at mass.

Elsa’s Father: Dom, would you like me to give you a lift home, tonight?

Elsa and I said nothing.

I have to confess that after we cleared the dishes we did duck into her old room and made out. But Elsa has a lot of dolls. Freaky dolls from all over the world. They are all lined up on one side, facing the bed.

And as we kissed, I felt they were watching me; especially the one from East Germany – who was taking notes and reporting us to her father.

So that was the weekend.


Dom

89th email

From: Stacey Marchenkova
To: dom borax < mailto:printthisplease@printthis.com >
Sent: Saturday, June 23rd, 1999 22:56 PM
Subject: RE RE RE RE RE RE RE Matrix and Election

Hey Dom…that makes sense...alluding to the Bellamy-rom-com...makes a lot of sense...

though I have to admit for a second I thought you were talking about two people we know…

I feel a little egocentric for thinking that…but I am prone to that mania…

I mean…as a kid…I actually thought the song Come on Eileen was about my mother (her name is Eileen)…so this is what you’re dealing with, buster…

And hell-yeah...I’d love to see a romantic comedy with you...sounds like fun...though I have to warn you...I cry in movies...very easily...and sometimes inappropriately...I once cried in Ace Ventura Pet Detective because there's something just so sad about Jim Carrey...

...so when we go to the movies...you better bring some tissues or a really absorbent sleeve...100 percent cotton, please...

Anyway...

Whatcha do over the weekend?
Whatcha doing next weekend?


Stacey

PS Hired Some Kind of Wonderful after you mentioned it. I really liked it. Though I thought Eric Stolz has quite confronting red hair.

PPS You will never be the Bellemy, trust me...you’re far too interesting...

88th email

From: Dom Borax
To: Stacey Marchenkova
Sent: Friday June 22nd, 1999 7:21AM
Subject: RE RE RE RE RE RE Matrix and Election

Hey Stacey,

And I can’t believe I wrote

‘He likes her. She likes someone else. He then likes someone else and she ends up liking him…’

It doesn’t really mean anything; just alluding to those classic familiar romantic narratives – Age of Innocence, Sense and Sensibility, Some Kind of Wonderful etc.


Dom

PS Have you seen those films? I am such a sucker for those kinds of films. I find myself so involved in the love triangle; I so want the people to get together.

But pride, war, illness, evil parents, pledged marriage, sacrifice, romantic blindness, accident, fear, addiction or genital insecurity gets in the way and once that gets in the way some other guy steps in.

In film-talk they call him that character the "Bellamy" named after the actor Ralph Bellamy.

See I learnt this in a film class. Ralph Bellamy was in such films as His Girl Friday and Awful Truth (both great films).

He's the guy that the girl is with at the begining of the story. He's the boring but nice guy.

He's the wrong guy.

I guess Bill Pullman is the Bellamy in Sleepless in Seattle. We want Hanks and Ryan to get together but Pullman is in the way.

Simply, the Bellamy is always in the way.

Man, I love romantic comedies.

PPS We should go see a romantic comedy together one day, what do you think?

PPPS: Just had a thought, I'm not the Bellamy in my own life, am I? :)

87 email

From: Stacey Marchenkova
To: dom borax < mailto:printthisplease@printthis.com >
Sent: Thursday, June 21st, 1999 23:58 PM
Subject: RE RE RE RE RE Matrix and Election

Dom,

Marcus is in bed…reading…I’m staying over…alone…and it’s only midnight….

He just turned the light is off…his book is on the bedside table…I’m having wine and time is slow…

I really liked your rave on time btw…really funny…though I think you forgot one attack on time…

Time is a scaremonger…it wakes you with a frightening loud smash to the head every morning…yelling ‘help help me!’...

you try to help, but it teases you with a snooze button…a calming option from the fear…

but time isn’t done with you yet…it alarms you ten minutes later…loving that this pattern of worry can be repeated time and time again…

(based on this – time sounds like a sadistic shrew, don’t you think?)

Anyway – that’s my attempt at blaming time…

Keep it if you like it and add it to your routine …I’m sure all the other girls you email will find it very amusing…

Sorry that sounds catty…didn’t mean it to be catty…I quit work tonight…so feeling a little vulnerable…

And I have to ask…in your spiel about time you talked about Bad timing…

‘He likes her. She likes someone else. He then likes someone else and she ends up liking him.’

What did you mean by that…?


S

PS I can’t believe I asked that question.

86th email

From: Dom Borax
To: Stacey Marchenkova
Sent: Thursday June 21st, 1999 12:24PM
Subject: RE RE RE RE Matrix and Election

Hey Stacey,

I’ve been thinking more about time – how I relate to it – and I think I was too flippant in my previous email.

Here’s how I relate to time:
I wanted it to be faster when I was younger.
I want it to surprise me currently.
And I suspect I’ll want it to slow down in years to come.

Oh, man, I think that sounds twee.

I might try again. Here’s how I relate to time:
It shits me. Honestly. Time shits me.

The reason: I’ve done so many stupid things in my life I need to blame something.

So from this moment on: I blame you! Time!

Because I would like that time again, Time. You tease me with the concept – but it’s a lie.

You lie, Time!!

You’re fickle too. Why do you keep switching it up on us? You take an hour away and give it back according to what? Daylight saving? Fuck off, Time.

Not only that, but you blatantly self promote as well.
You’re everywhere. You’re on my bedside table, you’re on my wrist, you’re on the microwave and you’re on top of the Suncorp building. You’re even the top of these emails always putting your two cents in.

So what are you selling? Huh? What is the deal with such constant advertising? What’s your product?

Is it death?

Good product, Time, good product.

Death.

Hey and Time; what’s with the image shifts? Do you have body image issues, Time? Don’t you know who you are, Time? Do you have to constantly change your appearance to get attention?

I mean, one moment you’re an hour glass, the next moment you’re a digital watch. Make up your mind, Time. No one will be able to relate to you, Time if you have so many disguises.

So be yourself and stop hiding behind your brands; then maybe you might find love.

Finally Time, what’s with your humour?

What’s with this thing you call ‘dramatic irony?’

Where is the gag in what you call ‘bad timing!?’

How is there a joke in, ‘He likes her, she likes someone else, he then likes someone else and she ends up liking him.’
That’s not funny, time; really not that funny.


Dom

PS And OCD is just Time offering a no-win duel. This is what Time would say if you challenged it:

Time – Do you want to fight me? You can fight me if you want. Pistols at Dawn. But apologies in advance - I might be late.