Boy Meats Girl (text-only version) An abusive relationship, told by collaged contemporaneous papers by LB Lee (The front cover is black construction paper, with the words written in white charcoal. An upside-down heart shape is cut out, exposing a glossy magazine spread of a white woman's breasts, gripped by white hands.) BACK COVER An honest-to-goodness handmade red paper heart Valentine, complete with crumpled white paper fringe. It has Jeff's childhood photo on it; Miranda's blacked the face out with Sharpie. He's handwritten various romantic things, which we've interspersed with typed lines from a poem he wrote and posted a week later. Know that I am always yours. You will always hold my heart. You’re my best friend Soul Mate True Love Sweetest Girl Friend 17 yr old ball of fun ;-) (Miranda has circled this one and commented with "VOMIT.") Be Mine Valentine [arrow pointing to the following note] Yes I know that’s [illegible] Dear Erin, The first thing I present to you is myself. Not much, so I have lined up a group of gifts with clues for ya. Think you can find them all? See back. Lover My buddy SERIAL Valentine by JB Lyon Roses are red violets are blue So’s you’re head as I strangle you To start things off I’ll cut you’re throat Then I will rape you like a goat This heart will throb for you my love Because I tore from a dove My card will be in hues of red As it will be you’re blood is shed For you my love is truly pure With no love back you’ll die for sure Content Warnings: rape, vomit, strangulation, body horror, and endless whining. PAGE 2 We are multi (multiple personalities). Here's what you need to know for this book: A cut photo of Erin, a few months before she met Jeff. She has shoulder-length blond hair and wears a tie-dye shirt. She's smiling as though caught by surprise by something the photographer said. A speech bubble comes from her, surrounding a cut piece of journal entry from 2001: Erin: "Sometimes I feel like there's parts of me. It's not like I've got DID or something, I just do. The first one is me. Woo, woo, woo." (Miranda has added in her own capslock lettering: "I'm in denial.") Text: Erin. Our ill-fated original girl. Died in 2005, leaving... A 2007 pencil drawing takes up the rest of the page, showing the group as of Jeff's time: Lollyanna, Miranda ("Me. Boy-crazy Girly-girl. Jeff's biggest fan."), Rogan ("worker, punching bag"), and Sneak and Gigi (who aren't in this book, but this was the best drawing we had for this). PAGE 3 Backdrop is an old Diesel ad, showing a woman taking a man's hand and leaving angry, accusatorily posed relatives. Everything is done in shades of brown camo for some reason. Overlaid is cut lines of Erin's journal, interspersed with present-day Miranda's commentary. 9/20/2004 Erin: I have a friend named Jeff. I met him last month or late July while playing D&D, and we’ve been visiting each other almost every Saturday. Erin: He seems to find my dislike of physical contact insane; he says he can’t understand it for the life of him. I just find that hysterically funny, though I can’t say why. (Miranda: Rape.) Erin: We’d finished a sweaty hike and finished chugging about a quart of water when he disappeared into a room and came back with a single red rose. (Miranda: "Testing the waters," he says. He doesn't ask me out so I don't say no. I don't like cut flowers.) Erin: He’s almost twenty-one. I am sixteen. It just isn’t going to happen. (Miranda: He knows.) Erin: As for the rose, I put it in a water bottle on the fence where no one could see it. Today one of the dogs tipped it over. Petals were on the grass and the stem was broken. It made me sad. PAGE 4 Same format as page 3, same backdrop, same Erin's journal entry contrasted with present day Miranda's black Sharpie commentary. 9/25/04 Erin: On Friday, (the day before yesterday) Jeff and I were talking on the phone like normal. Then my brother started picking up, saying random things. “So, are y’all going out?” (Miranda: No no no no no no no) Erin: My brother then turned to me. “He says he thought y’all already were.” Miranda: I don't want to. Erin: “I was hoping we could just be friends.” [sic] I said in a borderline moan. Silence over the line. I felt ill. “I thought you liked me.” (Miranda: *doodles a pouting, absurdly sad face next to Jeff's line, then writes* He knows I'm 16.) Erin: What followed after that was a long conversation with my parents. They agreed after twenty minutes. (For all my ability to ignore reality, I’ve found I’m a good diplomat with Mom & Dad.) (Miranda: They know he's 20.) Erin: So. I guess Jeff and I are together now. (Miranda: No no no no) PAGE 5 Black construction paper backdrop. Instead of a handwritten paper journal, this time it's Erin's old DeviantArt post, with Miranda's commentary in white charcoal. Sep 29, 2004 BaaingTree Title: Sicky Sicky, Gross and Icky (Miranda: We get gang-raped for the first time by our family, around this time.) Erin: Bleh. I have had a moderate case of allergies for the past few days, so I've been feeling a little under the weather. (shaking fist emoticon) Curse you, stupid immune system overreacting to random bits in the air! (Miranda: Those aren't allergies. Those are post-strangulation injuries.) Erin: I'm feeling better today than I did yesterday (as in, I didn't go have some quiet time with Mr. Sofa as soon as I walked through the front door), but throughout the day I've almost completely lost my voice. I sound like a frog attempting English. In fact, when my buddy Jeff called me on the phone, I had to convince him that yes, it was me, not my brother, on the reciever. The only way I can be coherent is if I lower my voice down to the grown man range, and then I sound like a radio announcer. (My little brother finds this very funny. Punk.) (Miranda: Our "allergies" disappeared when we moved out.) Erin: So, anyway, if I say anything especially dimwitted this week, blame it on Tylenol Sinus! Just a warning. The rest of the page is taken up with a photo from 10/18/2004, of Jeff with his arm around us. Jeff is a pretty white boy with shaggy auburn hair and a shark tooth necklace; he looks childishly gleeful, while Erin looks away from the camera. She's smiling, but it looks a bit plastic. Miranda has drawn a thought bubble for Erin, and a speech bubble for Jeff. Erin's thought bubble: He doesn't choke me. He loves me. I'm so lucky. Why am I scared? Jeff's speech bubble surrounds a DeviantArt comment he made about this photo; his screen name is DemonicPandaBear, and his tag line names him as "JB Lyon" and "Writer". Jeff: We look better than good, we look wrong! ;) PAGE 6 The backdrop for this one is a Dolce and Gabbana ad showing thin white women in a barn, draped over haystacks and wheelbarrows like corpses or mannequins. Another woman leans over one of them menacingly. On the left side of the page is another handwritten journal entry from Erin. 10/18/04 Erin: Jeff is rubbing off on me. (Miranda: Literally.) Erin: I’m not frightened of him kissing me anymore (Miranda: I have much bigger problems.) Underneath is a Halloween photo. Erin is dressed in her marching band uniform (khaki shorts, collared shirt, baseball cap) and wields our father's old bugle. Jeff has put on a bathrobe and stage glasses, holds a stick as a wand, and has drawn a lightning bolt on his forehead. He grips Erin's free hand tight in an awkward position and points the wand at her. Both have staged smiles as though the photographer took too long, but Erin's looks more plastic than before. On the right side of the page is a poem from Jeff, with more commentary. All typos are in the original. (Miranda: He writes me poetry. Only nice boys do that, right?) [a small drawing of a tree with a face saying, ‘Ba,’ much as we depicted our BaaingTree avatar.] To Ba With You by JB Lyon I’ve seen all the fish in the sea But you’re the only fish for me I’ll always want to ba with you Heart spinning intentions true Things seem slow, things seem fast But I know what we have will last When I’m with you my heart is bright As we hold one another in starlight [doodle of two stick figures hugging under a cloudy sky with star-dots] (Miranda: Later he learns to spell 'Baa.') (Miranda: I don't even like poetry.) PAGE 7 More of the sexy mannequin barn ad. Erin's journals are in pink ink, but now it's jaggedly interspersed with handwritten lines from Jeff's letters to her in gray pencil, with Miranda's commentary in stark sharpie capslock. 11/20/04 (Miranda: Jeff's birthday. He demanded sex.) Erin: my attachment grows stronger every week. We try and see each other twice [a week] now, but I just can’t keep that pace. There’s just not enough time. Jeff: leaving you would be like cutting off an arm or a leg 11/24 Erin: He makes me feel special. No one’s made me feel like that before Jeff: You Erin are my best friend [sic] my soul mate, and the love of my life. I’ll love you forever Erin: Jeff makes me feel beautiful, capable of love, safe and happy. His emotional maturity balances out my fear. Something must be done, though. I am terrified. Things are moving too fast for me, physically I must talk with him, slow it down. I’m just not ready. Jeff: I love you babe, and can’t live w/out you. Erin: I want my first orgasm with him to be leisurely and mutual, not some paranoid quickie in an open bedroom. It makes me feel dirty inside. Jeff pointed out that if we did, we could focus on being friends the rest of the time. (Miranda: Once we turned 17 we were legal.) Jeff: because of you I’m becoming a man. happy birthday and love always. Love, Your soul mate companion thingy, Jeffrey You and I were made for one and other. [sic] (Miranda: He ramped up the pressure.) PAGE 8 Backdrop is a thin white model in big black boots and a dress made of fluttery bits of orange and yellow fabric, who seems to be falling or floating downward headfirst across the page. Erin doesn't speak on this page; it's all letters from Jeff, with Miranda's commentary. The first one is typed--a boon, with Jeff's abysmal handwriting. LETTER FROM JEFF, EARLY FEB. '05 Jeff: So here I am another week or whatever without you. (Miranda: 3-5 days. Now we barely see our other friends.) Jeff: In the sixth [sic] months it’s been since finding you I’ve grown to need you like oxygen. (Miranda draws an arrow to "finding" and corrects it with "meeting.") Jeff: I cannot live now without you. When I leave you it feels like I've left a part of me behind somewhere. I miss you. I miss you and need you with all my heart. In my eyes you are perfect. Love always, Jeff The second Jeff letter is from Valentine's Day, and is handwritten. Jeff: Happy Valentines [sic] day! Reason’s [sic] why I love ya 1. You can take a joke. 4. You turn me on tremendously 5. You baa 6. You’re warm and fuzzy (Miranda: He means we don't shave our legs, though he demanded we trim our bikini area because we "shamed" him in a swimsuit, which we only wore so he could hump us in it.) 11. You’re just unimaginably sexy 14. You’re cute 15. You can be very sexy 26. Did I mention you’re sexy? 29. You can be very sweet and affectionate. 43. You are as talented with you’re [sic] hips as you are at platform jumping. Love, Jeff (Miranda: He humps us under his and our parents' noses. Once, he has to hide us naked in his closet from his mother. When he finds us shivering and crying, he laughs. Hilarious.) PAGE 9 This page has a handwritten pencil journal entry from Erin, cut with lines from a typed letter from Jeff, and commentary in Sharpie from Miranda. The backdrop is a Jimmy Choo ad showing a man throwing champagne in a woman's face. She's turning her head away from the flying fluid, flipping her hair, and making an oddly orgasmic expression as she yanks away the tablecloth holding the champagne bucket. The man's face is contemptuous. 2/14/05 Erin: Me and Jeff spent two and a half hours talking about porn. (What a Valentine's Day conversation.) Jeff: My Dearest Erin, I lay here tonight finding myself staring at pictures of you and of us. I haven’t missed you yet this week (it’s Wednesday) and I find that extremely odd. And yet I continue to talk about you, and stare at your pretty face, in some love induced daze. It scares me a little bit. I haven’t felt this unemotional in my life and I fear that it may get worse. Erin: I finally got the guts up to ask Jeff if he could please maybe get rid of it? (Miranda: Only live-action. Art, writing, and anime were fine.) Jeff: I want this Valenteins Day to be special for you. Erin: Jeff said, "Well, I respect you, so I'll do it." (Miranda: For a price.) Jeff: few people find true love through many and almost anyone can find lust. I guess the whole dark side being easier and more seductive comes to mind. Erin: Thank you, Jeff. Jeff: True love and a relationship like ours is a gift. I say gift because it is something that if taken care of can and will last at LEAST a lifetime. A gift like that is priceless and should be treasured and valued above all things. However sadly a relationship being a gift can collect dust and fall apart. Erin: Thank you for sacrificing your porn. Jeff: I know you're not great with metaphor but that one should be clear as day. Love, Jeffrey PAGE 10 Backdrop is a comics promo for a comic called Ravenous, showing a raven with a human eyeball in its mouth. There are no letters, no journal entries, only Miranda's writing, written in white charcoal on stripes of black paper. Miranda: His parents rented him an apartment. Our parents forbade us to go there. Jeff begged. He whined. He cried. The weekend after Valentine's Day, we went. He raped us. We came home. Our parents punished us. (Around the word "punished" is a cloud of scribbled text, layered over and over itself until its illegible.) And we never saw Erin again. (Smaller text: But this book isn't about that...) PAGE 11 Backdrop is a magazine clipping of teenagers in school uniforms fighting with sticks in a forest, drawn seemingly with charcoal. Collaged on top is an unfinished self-portrait in 2005, showing Erin in pajamas, a traumatized expression, staring accusingly out directly at the reader, red blood trickling from one ear, a red Allergy Alert medical bracelet on her wrist. She grips one of the trees for support. Collaged over her body are lines from our doctor's records, with Miranda's commentary. Miranda: I never forgot the feeling of blood in my hair. Doctor's Note: [CENSORED] Slaughter, MD Return Visit: 2/15/2005 Erin [REDACTED] returns today for progression of right hearing loss. Assessment: Significant, progressive, right-sided, conductive hearing loss. Doctor's Note: patient first failed a school hearing screening in 8th grade, 3 years ago. Hearing loss was right sided [sic] only, and was associated with tinnitus. Hearing loss gradually progressed, and patient was first seen by Dr. [CENSORED] Slaughter on 8/18/04. Over the next several months, the hearing loss progressed, and surgery was recommended. The surgery was performed in 2/05 and took several hours. The patient had moderately severe imbalance for several days following the procedure. Hearing loss and tinnitus have been much worse since the procedure, Also reports had very significant postoperative vomiting and vertigo for 24 hours which was extremely distressing. (Miranda: The surgery was 2/24/05. Our mom didn't like us when we were sick.) Doctor's Note: [CENSORED] Slaughter, MD Return Visit 4/4/2005 Erin [REDACTED] returns today for evaluation of recent right stapedectomy. She was treated with steroids because of symptoms consistent with a possible leak She has considerable remaining conductive hearing loss and will need a revision. (Miranda: It was bad.) PAGE 12 Backdrop is a high fashion spread of a woman with short, asymmetrically cut black hair like a bowl at the top of her head. She wears a black dress and presses back against a canvas as if trying to hide or escape, and the stark bluish lighting makes her look like a corpse. Her face is covered with typed lines from a letter from Jeff; the only remaining text of the ad that's readable is "Making the Cut." Between 3/14 and 3/20/05, Jeff gave us this letter: Jeff: Dear Erin, So that you don’t get scared or nothing I want you to know that although I’m not exactly happy with you at the moment, as long as you work with me and we try to get through this together I’m confident we’re in no danger of losing one another. I suppose a relationship is like a rose. And eventually when handling a rose one person may come across a thorn. Whether or not I bleed to death is up to you at this point. Alright, when it comes to making me happy and sad it’s sort of like turning me on and off sexually. Basically I’m very easy to turn on as you know, but equally easy to displeasure. I can be a mans [sic] best friend or worst enemy I want to be your best friend But after hitting me with so many things over the last month I'm finally beaten down to a negative. This last month alone I've had more negative weights piled over me then [sic] you could possibly know, and although you've been relatively happy I have finally sunk to the bottom. I can't just go dump off the weights. You have put them on. the whole thing did start with the porn sacrifice and seemed to end with it. I miss porn or sex or whatever and I need something. you've asked a lion to give up eating meat The lion loves you and wanted with all his heart to try but he's still going to eventually get hungry and need to eat. (Miranda: Meat) Jeff: I can continue to starve and stay bitter, another option [is] you could revoke the porn ban and allow me to watch again. However the better option would be, (I HATE to have to even consider saying this because I want things to happen naturally, but...) you could compromise and make an honest effort to make up for the lack of porn, trying to be a bit more sexual yourself. I am a sexual creature and I can't help my hormones. I'm hungry... I'm getting hungrier and I'm ready to make my habitual switch in masterbatory [sic] material. (Miranda: Jeff made it 3 months tops before reneging--he watched porn and then told us about it to punish us for not being properly mindful of his needs.) Jeff: for a long time my hunger didn't bother me as much because I knew that you were compromising, I felt and saw noticeable effort on your part, and felt as if you were making progress. That progress made me very happy and equally unhappy when you freaked out and took things back a few months. (Miranda: He means the 2/19 or 2/20 rape.) Jeff: it's important to understand that when someone expects something to happen and then it doesn't, the persons [sic] going to be upset. Say you're expecting an A on a text and make a D. How would you feel? you are punishing me ever [sic] time I see you, just like a parent taking away a favorite toy. (Miranda: Toy) PAGE 13 Backdrop: more pale white people in stark corpse lighting with black hair, this time a woman with long black hair hiding one side of her face, hunching over a lime green handbag. Jeff: there are other things which may be pertinent like Harvard for example. (Miranda: We got into a summer program.) Jeff: Now, I think I've dealt with the summer thing, and I don't believe I'm angry or bitter about that. Though I won't hold it against you either way, I hope you realize and appreciate the sacrifice I'm making for you this summer. I guess the bigger thing that's been eating at me at the back of my mind is more the future Harvard thing. You know, when you do finally have to move somewhere and I have to tag along. (Miranda: 1.5 years in the future, and we went to a local school.) Jeff: going with you will be extremely taxing on me, and I don't think you realize what a tremendous sacrifice that would be for me to go with you. you owe me, big time. you'd better appreciate my willingness to go, this whole progress of balance with the scale has all come from the long term [sic] build up [sic] of these one sided [sic] sacrifices. I'm sorry to pile more to your plate when I know you're already a bit stressed about other things. I hate being unhappy with the one I love and I trust you'll do well in balancing the scale. Love, Jeff (Miranda: We suggested breaking up, so on 3/21/05, he brought us roses and this:) Jeff: Erin love, I long for you. I long for your touch, your gentle words which lift my heart like a warm summers [sic] breeze. I need you, nad my love for you is great. So great that you lift my spirits and make me soar, higher than any mountain and you free me from myself, my own demons which are relentless in making me feel alone and impresoned within a place where I am free and not free. Where my own fears seek to devour me, and you Erin, save me from those fears. I know in recent months I’ve been fretful about silly sexual bothers but in truth I fear not having you in my life far more than being able to express that love in a physical manner. I love you. I love you so much Love forever, Jeffrey (Miranda: So we stayed with him.) PAGE 14 Backdrop is a woman in a green mountainous landscape, dressed in a long purple velvet coat with her hands on her hips and a flower-printed dress. (Miranda: 6/18/05: We go to Harvard.) There's a Harvard Summer School Student ID, which is valid through 8/20/05. Our vessel, wearing a headband and tie-dye shirt, stares zombie-like, unsmiling into the camera. Underneath are cut lines of handwritten LB journal entries... the first since Erin's death, but now Erin herself isn't there to keep things together. Present-day Miranda notes the writers and switches, which aren't stated in the journal itself. 7/6/05 Lolly: I'm at Harvard, and Jeff--it's frustrating. with our relationship being rocky before because of my leaving and my sex issues, I was actually glad to escape. I adore it here. Jeff hates it. He can't stand when people are gone from him. When he called, he ended up sobbing it all out, venting that he'd made himself hate me so he wouldn't fall apart. (Miranda: This is all Lolly.) Lolly: He said he fantasized about ignoring me when I came home until I "paid him back" for leaving. (Miranda: with sex.) Rogan: Lolly started crying and he [Jeff] said he found it reassuring, at least she cared enough to cry. The problem is the same one that popped up when he watched porn-- "the Punishment." She's just not suffering enough, so she must be punished to make things even. She's not sacrificing enough, so she must be forced into sacrificing. He suggested phone sex. Phone sex! Look, even Miranda has no interest in that. Stop pushing us; Lolly doesn't want to come to your apartment in winter, she doesn't want to wear a swimsuit for non-aquatic purposes, and she doesn't want to read erotica about herself. PAGE 15 Backdrop is purple coat lady in the green mountain landscape again. She wears a big furry hat, lounges against the mossy rocks, and looks off into the distance as though awaiting a raiding party. The journal entry from the prior page continues. Rogan: you feel like you owe him something for taking away his non-animated real-people porn. Kid, should this really be what love is? To be honest, if it is, I'd rather toss in the towel. (Miranda: So we made an accord: Mir, Lolly, and Rogan) A short comic appears. This is the first art in the zine made entirely in the present-day; the accord wasn't recorded until adulthood, and never drawn. Miranda, with curly hair and a tight dress, scoffs, "I tell you, he'll get better!" Lollyanna, a girl with short hair, hoodie, and jeans, looks more thoughtful and concerned. "But what if he doesn't?" Meanwhile, Rogan lurks in the back, waving a little white flag. When Mir and Lolly turn to look at him, he goes, "I'm just saying, we COULD dump him!" Miranda glares at Rogan, obviously not buying it. However, when she exchanges looks with Lolly, Lolly has an "asshole has a point" face. Rogan, meanwhile, clasps his hands and smiles and tries to look as friendly and approachable as possible, because he and Mir have fought all year over Jeff and he needs all the good will he can get. He's not very good at it. Miranda and Lolly say, "He gets one month upon our return to improve. Deal?" Rogan goes, "Deal! Hell, I'll do the dumping, if need be!" PAGE 16 Backdrop is the other half of the purple lady lounging, with handwritten lines from Lollyanna cut and pasted on top. There's a doodle of a girl's face tangled in the writing. 7/28?/05: Jeff says I'm about as wise as a pig in the mud. I don't notice nothing. 8/8/05: Yesterday was Jeff's & my anniversary. He sent me a sweet e-mail and I got his journal in the mail. and I can't shake the feeling that now I'm in debt to him. not even sure if I can keep going. lately what I'm remembering most about him are some of my new pet names: "robot," the whole "pig wallowing in the mud" thing, I don't LIKE being compared to a pig wallowing in the mud He claims it's due to the abuse his family gave him, they who have my personality type. Fah. PAGE 17 Backdrop is a sepia high fashion magazine of a model in faux early 1900s cloak with her hair teased into a big fluffy bun, holding a magnificent leatherbound encyclopedia. Present-day Miranda commentates on newspaper clippings, and a journal entry (writer uncertain, probably Lollyanna). (Miranda: 8/16/05: We return home. The clock starts ticking, and we plunge into senior) year. 8/21/05 Journal: Saw Jeff again. Said he had a good time, but called me in distress that I didn't read his journal over plane. I'm a crappy girlfriend. I'm binding my chest for stress relief. Jeff called it a complete turn-off. Miranda: And then... Hurricane Katrina. (The words "Hurricane Katrina" are clearly cut from an old newspaper.) Newspaper photo: two white people wielding guns outside a warehouse, with a dog in the background. Newspaper clipping: A political cartoon from Steve Kelley of the New Orleans Time-Picayune, showing a black family in front of the wreckage of their home. The child clutches a teddy bear, the mother wears a polka dog dress. The man wears a black shirt with a fleur-de-lis and the words "You Gotta Have Faith" and says, "It's not just the Saints' slogan anymore." Miranda: A wave of refugees came to our town, including our grandparents, who stayed with us. They took priority over Jeff, despite his wailing over phone. Lolly & I had to field it all; Rogan was missing. (In smaller text) But this book isn't about that... PAGE 18 The clippings, the backdrops, all are gone. It's just stark white charcoal capslock words on black paper, from present-day Miranda. Miranda: I don't want to tell you this. I am ashamed. But we were 18 days in, and Jeff hadn't gotten better. I wanted to save the relationship. I thought the problem was us. No. That's a lie. I thought the problem was Rogan. Frigid Rogan, PTSD Rogan, crying rocking in a fetal ball Rogan. Rogan, who hated Jeff. But Rogan was gone now. So I went on my own to Jeff's apartment. (Stark, simple doodle of a shut apartment door.) PAGE 19 Black paper, white words: The problem was not Rogan. PAGE 20 Black paper, white words: Jeff wanted sex. I said no. And he began to scream and scream and scream. A toddler, deprived of a favorite toy: Meat. Me. He grabbed me. (A scribbly, abstract doodle of Jeff, with huge, gaping white eyes and huge, hungry mouth with sharp white teeth. He leans forward, seizing our forearms, screaming underneath a giant speech bubble of his "love poetry," covered with spiky shards of context-less bits of his other letters, most of it barely readable, but some can be made out:) Jeff: make me feel good Remember even if I were willing obsessive most people take pleasure in taking us down not ready to do, I guess what frustrates me is realize how badly I dealing with that JB Lyon I worry and dread no confidence I've put 95% lost without you with BS issues share my dreams frickin' perfect lost without you my place frustrates me I can't take the weights off by myself I'm bitter in the face myself the biggest things that bother me against your own "readiness" you are the one I will spend the rest of ever been able to make me cry the held back I would definitely expect you to be able to come over appreciate how much I've doen for you feel like an asshole suffer or get bitter when this whole compromise communicate Miranda bitter about related Miranda: And then from the back... PAGE 26 Black paper, white words, with present-day scribbly drawings cut and pasted on, which are in turn cut and pasted over with 2005 writing from Rogan, entitled "I Want To Be Ugly". A scribble of Rogan, trudging out of the back, face in shadow so his expression can't be read. His shirt front is blackened and stained, and an enormous, shattered bat wing sticks out of his back, encrusted with gore, dripping bits, hanging at an awkward angle. Miranda: Rogan returned. (with an arrow pointing to the wing) With this but this book isn't about that either. Writing: I Want to Be Ugly. I want people to look at me and say, "My god, what died-- oh, it's you, Rogan." My wings still work and my chest burns so hot the impurities in my heart are smelted, and I can feel froth on my lips and hear blood in my ears in a heavy drumbeat instead of that damn hiss of schizophrenic static that's always there. Rogan looks at Miranda and Lolly, who are clutching each other in terror. His expression is blank and tired. "You don't want to do this?" he asks. "No!" they cry. He turns forward again, raises his head. "Okay." Miranda: He took over, looked Jeff in the eye, and... PAGE 27 Blue paper, collaged present-day drawings, and more of I Want To Be Ugly. Now scribbly Jeff grips Rogan's arm. And Rogan, eyes huge and staring and with a manic smile, cracks up laughing in Jeff's indignant face. Writing: I'll smile, for I may be fearsome in my beauty but I'm a downright hellbeast when I'm ugly, a hellbeast with clumsy first-time wings And guilt. I'd like to stop feeling guilt. Like everything is my fault. I'd like to fly on my clumsy clockwork wings up to [the] sky and sing the songs of dead angels. Jeff lets go of Rogan, jerks back. "Stop it!" he screams. "Stop laughing at me!" But his expression is alarmed, creeped out. Rogan just smiles at him, dark circles under his eyes. "Why? What're you going to do? Rape me?" Writing: want to say exactly what I think to you. Jeff says nothing, just rubs his arm. Sure, that was the plan, but Rogan's not supposed to SAY it. "See you next week," Rogan says, and walks out. Writing: no one can fly too good right off the bat, but still, you enjoy most the first crisp beats of your wings in a liquid coat of atmosphere. PAGE 28 Backdrop is yellow paper, and a dancing woman in a dark dress; the colors are all yellow, pink, and coral, like a happy sunset. A tiny pink heart is collaged onto her chest, which fits in a perfect gap between the collaged lines of text. 9/12/05 Ode to the Breakup (by Rogan) I became single again a few days ago. damn was I glad it was over. Never mind crying and burning photos; I was too busy dancing. The whole reason you break up is because you're so miserable in the relationship that it's easier to say that to your boyfriend's face than keep going. You weren't trying hard enough? Bullshit! see if he has a legitimate grievance for you not spending enough time with him! Don't you get it? It's over. You've broken the news, weathered the storm, and then walked away. Don't you get it, dumbass? You're free. No more endless begging for sex, no more neglecting all your friends to end that, "You're not spending enough time with me," no more having your website checked to see how much free time you've really had, no more discussing whether true love truly exists when you really don't give a damn. You are free. (The word "free" is surrounded by hot pink highlighter rays.) PAGE 29 Backdrop is light green paper, with black and white collaged people kissing and a figure peacefully pushing through dew-spattered ivy. There's also a clipping of an ad for "Healing Sex: A Mind-Body Approach to Healing Sexual Trauma" by Staci Haines. Police Report (By Rogan) Jan. 3rd, 2008 10:33 PM Blog post Well, made it through therapy today. Dr. Drag called the police, and they said they would dispatch an officer to take the report. After we were done, and I was pretty much glad I didn't have to talk anymore, she put up the notebook and told me to look at her. I did. "I was raped twice." She said, calm, flat as can be. "I know how it is. Different people deal in different ways. I did it by putting it in the back of my mind, never thinking about it. But," she gestured down at her uniform, the Kevlar, the Taser, "I came out okay. It's bad that it happened, but you have to move on." Newspaper clipping: The Aftermath Back to blog clips: "It's funny. The female officer, she wouldn't sit down, have a glass of water, a very..." Dr. Drag made a hardcore professional expression and struck army posture. "When she walked out, I asked how you were. She said, 'she'll be fine.'" And yeah. I think I will be. Miranda: And we were. Collaged clippings: flowers, 2007-2008 pencil sketches of Rogan and Mac cuddling, and Miranda on her own. Miranda: Rogan married; I stayed single, happily. PAGE 30 Backdrop is an androgynous person dressed in bright red strips of cloth and tartans somewhere between a kilt and parachute pants, posed in toe shoes and tilted like they're about to kick someone in the face. Miranda: Then the little fucker came back. 8 years later! A clipping of a facebook comment from Jeffrey Lyon B, made 8/7/2013, exactly 9 years after we met (our "anniversary"): How old were you there? And what beach is that? Miranda: First he pestered our relatives on Facebook (we weren't there-- ask us why.) Clipping of a Livejournal friending announcement: "xainox lists you as a friend." Miranda: He found us on Livejounral and posed as a stranger, sending us private messages. He described himself to us as: Jeff: Enjoying fatherhood. I'm married. For good or bad. I literally hate like 90% of my friends. Jeff's PM: How has DID affect [sic] your perception of memories? Have you ever been told that it can create faulty memories of the past or inclined prospectively create [sic] entire new ones? Miranda: He knew we were homeless. Jeff: When I read about everything that you've gone through over the years since high school I felt very bad for you. I'm most sorry you feel like you have to cut your family off and have negative feelings towards so many people that at least maybe "tried" to love you? Miranda: He offered to let us stay at his parents' house (the place we cried naked in the closet) Jeff: Some of what I read made me very curious however I don't want to bring up old wounds if they might upset you or hurt your recovery. Just before I ask anything more personal maybe let me know what subjects are too sensitive? Miranda: We told him he was a stranger; he didn't get to talk to us about our memory, or our family, and he certainly didn't get to call us Jeff: your personalities Miranda: (We didn't realize he intended to cheat on his wife with us.) Jeff: I hate the implications in a romantic relationship but I think in the future I will continue to meet new friends (Miranda adds air quotes around "friends") and not ever hold myself back again based on a feeling or ideal of misguided loyalty or devotion. Miranda: He truly seemed to think we would, should be grateful to pay for our housing with sexual favors, though he never got to say outright. Jeff: I certainly did not mean to offend you, I'm sorry if I did. (framed in red paper: your brother) You seem very defensive. I have a few close friends who often ask my health with relationships or advice and personally wish sometimes people would volunteer help to me. I'm not trying to offer unsolicited help or advice. (framed in red paper: old friends or family) most of my friends and relationships would consistently walk out on me over the years which was quite painful. I'm not trying to offend you. Miranda: Rogan told him again that our family was off-limits. Jeff: your family (framed in red paper) Jeff: I've been disappointed more times than I can remember. Miranda: He [Rogan] called Jeff "an idiot or an asshole" and blocked him. Two messages total. PAGE 31 Backdrop is brown cardboard, collaged over with a scene of a tranquil field full of fluffy stalks, collaged in turn with a figure in toe shoes and a billowing white dress, which they have spun around themselves so their upper body can't be seen as they walk off into the distance. Miranda: He sent us a furious PM from a new account, which we never even knew about till two months ago. It started with: Jeff: Can't handle an argument? Wanted the last word? Miranda: Eight years, and he hadn't changed at all. 15 years, and I'd never stood up to him. Rogan bailed me out, every time. He took all the rapes, all the violence. I needed to speak up. PAGE 32 Backdrop is deep blue paper, collaged with blue and lavender textured scrapbooking paper and clippings of a woman climbing out of a chrysalis sleeping bag, spreading monarch butterfly wings, and taking flight. Miranda: So I made this zine. And now I'm going to go burn it. All Jeff's letters, his pics, his negs, his sneers, his "sex therapy," burned to ashes. Gone. PAGE 33 The backdrop is a close-up photograph (stamped 4/25/2021) of damp ashes and cinders, anonymous gray, white, and black goo. Nothing of the original papers remain--no image, no writing. Collaged on top are Miranda's notes on blue and pink scraps of paper: I go into the yard. I put everything into an abandoned clay pot I find by the garbage. I crumple, rip, and tear them apart, the pages I made. It lights. I watch it all burn. It smolders and reignites, again and again. We all gather and watch. The flames are bigger than I expected. His photographs blacken and bubble. It all burns away, curling into ember and ash. PAGE 34 More crumpled, anonymous ashes. Miranda writes: When I was a child, I was complicit. I sacrificed my siblings--Rogan, Lolly--on the altar of my fantasy of love. I left Rogan to take the anal rape our father dispensed as "punishment" for my going to Jeff's apartment. (Though I managed to save him from whatever our mother had planned.) It wasn't my fault, I thought. It's not like we were real. Nothing we did or was done to us held any moral weight. We were just a doll, a toy. Meat. (The word is circled twice in black Sharpie.) PAGE 35 More muddy ashes. Miranda writes: But I'm not a child, a thing, anymore. What I do matters. What we do, what is done to us, matters. I can't change what I did. But now I know what evil I am capable of. And I will never be that person again. Forgiveness is not pretending it never happened. It is wearing the scars and growing, loving anyway. And never doing it again. PAGE 36 The ashes are wet in the rain, an anonymous slurry. Miranda writes: The embers fade. We watch them. Rogan and I hug. We are not those children and we never will be again. The embers are so warm and beautiful.