Copyright © 2003 LeeAnn Heringer
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Copyright © 2003 LeeAnn Heringer
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confessions of a bulk emailerI missed my ride tonight, ended up walking home from the train, where I passed too close & accidentally eavesdropped on the yellow house where a man with a deep voice rehearsed a sermon on love. on the by-the-week hotel where a young man clutching a bottle sang Spanish ballads & a tv blared CNN to a man in his underwear snoring on the couch. the deep clang of brass wind chimes set off the dog who lived in the pink house on the corner. as he came rushing towards me, all teeth & clumped fur, I shifted my 3 book, 2 newspaper, 5 cd, cell phone, pager, handheld computer, woman’s cosmetic bag, briefcase, train bag to my right side & thought, hey, dog, you wanna piece of this? you & everybody else. months ago our spike haired webmaster, who’s spent the summer filling in a tattoo of a blue-green celtic wolf with the legend—neither collar nor crown— around his left leg, decided to hire a firm to send bulk e-mail about our company. all their e-mails signed by a fictional Susie. because who would yell at a Susie? they’ve spent July & August hanging out in newsgroups, chat rooms, mailing lists, composing small notes with a personal touch. urging people towards our web site. in return, we’ve gotten letters insisting our domain be taken away, our web site taken down, burned, & the ashes scattered. strangers sending us long speeches demanding we return to them their non-commerical Internet & bills charging us $500 for archive space of unwanted mail. but mostly they’re upset we passed too close & uninvited. that there are no lines anymore where strangers can’t enter. can’t listen. |
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