Someone out there must have an mp3 of Anthony Holborn's Elizabethan piece "Voice of the Ghost"... Someone must. Or so I hope.

I do need some lovely clever girl to give me recommendations on Schubert... And on Debussy, too, I think. Any mp3s would be much appreciated.

Last night on "Mad Men"... Well, I drank Baltika beer and couldn't stop laughing. It's not every televison series where a new character suddenly and randomly gets a foot cut off by a riding lawnmower...in an ad agency office high up above Manhattan.

Listening to Film School and A Fine Frenzy. Music for a Monday afternoon, I guess. It could be Death From Above 1979 or The Strokes soon.

"Mad Men"... I was bitter enough after the episode. I wanted someone to talk with about the episode. I had that for a while in midsummer, when I was watching the Season 2 DVDs, and then when the first episodes of Season 3 began. I need that--- someone to talk to about things. There was a lovely Vanished girl who loved the series, too. She was my Voice about "Mad Men". I miss her more than I can say.

I'll look at my FaceBook pages in the morning and see that a girl accepted some FB item from me "8 hours ago"... Eight hours ago would be...0200 hours. And so I get depressed and bitter and envious. For a lovely wicked girl to be on FaceBook at two in the morning means...that she just came home from being naked in a lover's bed. That or making out at parties and getting high and listening to music during sex. After all--- why else would she be up and about at two in the morning? She must be coming home from sex. This is why I'll drive myself into utter gloom. If a girl leaves me messages after midnight, all I can assume is that she's been having sex and has come home wet and exhausted. After all--- lovely clever wicked co-eds in skinny jeans can have sex pretty much at will. What else is there except coming home from a lover's bed...and knowing that she has markers for value that I'll never have.

I look at my LastFM page and feel...empty. No lovely clever wicked girl is reading my LastFM tracklists and thinking that I might be valuable. I look at others' pages--- Laura-Ashlee at bladeoftheknife's, WaterColorFire, Miss Ginny's imaginary LastFM page ---and feel utterly inferior. No girl looks at my LastFM or Netflix or GoodReads pages and sees anything interesting there. I have nothing to offer up as an Advertisement For Myself. When I look at the pages of girls I Obsess over, all I feel is...inferior. I don't have anything to offer that's as good as what they have...or are. No girl reads my lists and wants to talk with me about them, or thinks that my lists are markers for value.

Martin Jones doing Debussy's "D'Un Cahier d'Esquisses"... Any mp3s?

A Sanyo E6... So who is using one to take photos on Morningside Heights? Does the girl with the Sanyo E6 send topless photos of herself to lovers? Does she pose like she used to on couches in a carriage house in Silver Springs? After all--- she does envision herself as a model in Miu-Miu ads.

The last incoming call or text at my phone was 5. September. There won't be any more. Girls have no use for me. They Vanish from friends lists here or at FaceBook without talking to me at all. I never hear Voices at night--- I have no value even as only a telephone lover.

I have a Joy Division documentary to watch tonight--- "Joy Division: Under Review". A recommendation from a Vanished girl at Samford in Birmingham. I won't hear from her again about films or books or music. And of course she has access to films and music better than I'll ever know. Bitter joke: she can read entries and lists from Miss Lissy at emigree / WaterColorFire that I'll never see. She never looks at my lists and recommendations and sees any value. I wonder if the same isn't true of Miss Ginny at ginny_mccoo...

No one reads this. No one from amongst the Vanished or the Missing ever comments here. Just as girls never read my lists elsewhere and find me valuable. Just as their entries, Stories, lives, lists are always better than mine.

A year ago today I had NYC and a lover to look forward to. That'll never happen again. And no girl thinks of me with anything but contempt and derision. I have nothing to offer up as a lover--- and I have no life or value at all. There's not anyone to teach me how to back up my iTunes on an XHD. There's not anyone to talk with about "Mad Men". There's nothing at all.