"My work may be garbage but it's good garbage." Mickey Spillane
You’re chasing me across the net. You have stalked me and made screenshots. You know almost as much about the missing posts on my LJ and the xanga blog I shut down as I do. You have demonstrated that to me with many of your threats. You tried to make it look like the person who chased me around the net for months last year was Al. You chased Sovay. And I have irrefutable evidence that you were responsible for the totse attack on myself and my daughter that I once blamed on Nicholaus Mounts. It was you all along.
What’s the matter? Did reading one of my novels give you indigestion or something? You demonstrated to me on our first encounter that you had read at least one of them. Blood Rites.
Tell me, Dagstine? What twisted instinct of yours gives you the right to chase me.
When the nicky interview was posted you asked for people to give you evidence that Nicky had gone after their children, but the only person you addressed directly was me. Then you went over to Peter Barnes’ xanga and threatened me with those screen shots. Then you threatened me on my own xanga.
You sent me a threat in my myspace box.
Once exposed you went after me other places.
You have told people that I’m a crack whore
you have told people that I am a washed up has-been
You have said much, much more and it is documented.
You want to stalk me physically like you say you stalked Rusty?
Well, I have a cast iron fry pan that would love to be introduced to your face.
Guess what? You lost.
I freely admit that you came within an inch of succeeding. I have not been able to blog about the actual experience of writing since you pulled that stunt. So you did manage to kill off or disable part of my psyche, but ultimately you still lost.
I’m still writing fiction.
And don’t worry, Dagstine. When I see you living homeless on the street, I’ll toss you a couple of pennies.