in college there was a kid named ross who blogged aggressively - blogged pretentiously, which is the more important part. it was 2002 and i guess the practice wasn't quite so mainstream yet. blogspot chronicled everything about his life - relationships, classes, everything he ever, ever, ever cooked. at lunch in the dining hall one day, my friend came late and explained that he had just seen ross running around by the library, catching the first snowflakes of the year on his tongue. he joked that ross was probably only doing it so he could go back to his room and put it in his blog. we checked up on him after lunch, and he had already written about it. it was a little difficult to believe.
ross and i both knew of each other, but never really had any kind of substantive interaction. i had a radio show after his for a semester, and we'd say hello, but that was about it. i didn't like him, but didn't hold a particular grudge against him until i found out that "ross" wasn't even his real name. his actual first name was "kenneth." i don't know exactly why i was so incensed, but i found this deeply troubling.
i started leaving comments on every one of his blog entries, asking "what's the frequency, kenneth?" and signed them as "billy." i'd leave voicemails on his phone during his radio show, playing the whole song - careful to call from a hall phone, so he couldn't track it back to me (or anyone else) through the phone system.
the radio station was more than a little bootleg. the phone was right next to the microphone, and it'd ring on the air when i called between songs. ross, flustered, would answer, at which point i'd hang up. then i'd call again, and again. eventually i'd stay on long enough to shout "what's the frequency, kenneth?" and he'd respond, on air, with "the frequency is 91.5." 91.5 WSRN FM, pumping out 110 watts from a transmitter in a closet, didn't go very far.
i was relentless. eventually my comments on his blog devolved into even greater nonsense - i don't remember many specifics, but i do know that there was a lot of discussion of hot dogs. i called him all the time to ask if he had ordered a pizza. i never threatened him in any way, and this is important. i also wasn't particularly creative, for the most part, and that was sort of the point - simply to affix a big, dumb "i'm watching you" to every public act he made.
and, it worked. he was in a band with a kid named matt who didn't particularly like him, but played with him because ross was one of the only drummers on campus. matt and i had something of a strange friendship - equal parts mutual distrust and mutual respect. one day we ran into each other and he mentioned how someone was writing comments on ross's blog, calling him all the time, and it was really freaking ross out. matt thought it was pretty awesome, so i admitted that it was me.
one frequent topic of ross's blog was all of the online scrabble he played. i had recently started to get into scrabble, too, so i figured that the next logical step would be to challenge him to an online match. he accepted, and we set a date and time.
when the time came, i was paranoid that he could somehow track my IP address, and logged on as "Billy915" from a public computer. i waited for 45 minutes, but there was no sign of him. when i finally gave up on him showing, i went back to my room and checked my email. he had written me - me, not the email address i had left as billy's contact information - to tell me that he had hurt his knee and had had to go to the health center, that he was sorry that he flaked out on our scrabble challenge, but could we make it up?
i was crushed. i had been pretty tight-lipped about the whole thing, and while all of my friends knew, none of them could stand ross, so they wouldn't have told him. nor did they have friends they would tell who could stand ross, either. i called matt, screaming. he admitted that he had disclosed my identity, but only because ross had broken down crying at a few points during band practice, on account of being so disturbed. i shouted a few vague-yet-hyperbolic threats of bodily harm, and hung up the phone.
what was i going to do? i agonized over it the entire night, brainstorming out loud and composing monologues at my girlfriend (who was evidently a saint). the easiest and most obvious thing would be to write ross back saying "i have no idea what you're talking about!"
the problem is, that kind of protestation is far too incriminating. i came to the conclusion that since i really didn't know ross at all, if i really hadn't been billy, his email would've been confusing enough that i wouldn't have responded at all. it took every ounce of willpower i had not to write him back, but i was able to hold off.
instead, the next day billy declared himself victor on ross's blog, and challenged him to a rematch. ross accepted, and we scheduled it to start 15 minutes into his next radio show.
i had a lot of friends at the radio station, two of whom had the show before ross. that week, one of them couldn't make it, so i subbed for him. i brought along my german grammar book to study a bit during the show, and when ross came in five minutes before his time slot, we exchanged nothing more than the customary nod, eschewing eye contact like always.
the radio station was in the fifth floor of the main campus building, and after my guest show was over i went down to the first floor to call my roommate. he's probably the nicest person i've ever met, but somehow i cajoled him into signing on as "Billy915," and gave him a script of semi-nonsensical phrases to say to ross until i came back and took over. i stayed on the phone with him until ten minutes into the game, at which point i went back up to the radio station to retrieve the german book that i had left behind.
i knocked softly, mumbled a "whoops, sorry, forgot my book" and shot a glance at ross. i only saw him for a split second, but the mouth-agape look of utter, abject, complete terror was something that i'll never forget. a few days later, matt came running up to me on my way to campus. "what happened?" he asked. "ross keeps saying that i was wrong, that it can't be you."
My Ideal Person:
the most remarkable thing about you standing in the doorway is that it's you, and you're standing in the doorway
The last great book I read
"principles of mathematical analysis" by
walter rudin
Favorite on-screen sex scene
the wonder, the horror, the magic that is "caligula"
The celebrity I resemble the most
ted bundy
The best or worst lie I've ever told
"i don't want to talk about it"
Five items I can't live without
my blood
Fill in the blank: _____ is sexy; _____ is sexier.
republic is sexy; meno is sexier
In my bedroom one will find...
a singer sewing machine/table that i don't use because
i don't know how. a bass amp i don't use because
i no longer play music in a band. a lamp i don't use because
the other lamp currently has custody of my solitary light
bulb.
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