July 5th, 1995

## Tara

**\*\*\*Posted July 6th, 1995**

**July 5**What is it about wanting precisely what you can't have that makes the thought of having it that much more delicious? It's like the forbidden fruit; once you take that first bite, you are immediately sent down a new path more dangerous than the first. Sticking your toes in the water is not the same as going for a swim. I know, I've done both.

Throughout high school, I never once had a "real" boyfriend. I dated some, but no one really special to speak of. Instead, most of my love life was spent behind bushes and in the middle of the night with guys who had girlfriends. I know how screwed up this sounds, and I knew then. But it wasn't so easy to stop. This one guy, Danny Rucker, was dating an acquaintance of mine, but found himself "strangely attracted" to me. The feeling was mutual. As our little affair progressed, the guilt set in. I would sit at Danny's rickety kitchen table, and we would discuss how this whole thing just couldn't go on. He said he loved Angela (his girlfriend), I told him I knew he did..... We'd have long involved conversations, analyzing the situation to death and then decide that whatever we had started was definitely over. I'd get up to leave, trying desperately to hide the tears in my eyes, and then he'd passionately wrestle me to the ground only to start the cycle all over again. He had this sickening puce colored carpet in his dirty little flat that smelled like beer and cigarettes and God knows what else. I'm still attracted to the wrong guys, and in some form or another, I'm still pursuing them. Even Danny, who I never loved or anything close, still holds a little residual intrigue. Whenever I'm in town visiting my parents, I drive by his house--slowly-- and look in to see if he still lives there. As far as I know, he still does. I'd like to think I've grown up some, though I'm not sure exactly how much. It's like my past and my present are holding mirrors up to each other and I can't tell which is which.

The Unattainable. Most of you people out there can relate to this; wanting someone who is somehow unavailable to you either emotionally, or physically or both. Maybe this can be traced back to the Father Figure syndrome for us females. Trying to avoid getting too psychoanalytical here, but this is a pattern I have noticed in myself that I am not sure how to stop.

Professor Samuels: Married. Sacha: Far, far away/related? And dare I include him in this........Jeff. For some deep dark reason, Jeff has made himself unavailable to me and the rest of the world. As much as I'd like to explore the possibilities, I don't think he'd let me.

Everyone in my life seems to be running off a different fuel source. I mean, we all have love in our lives in some form or another. It just seems that some people are more easily satisfied. Lon and....whoever. Michelle and....whoever. It's as if, for those two, as long as there's somebody things are OK.

Call me idealistic, but I think I'd rather have nobody and brood over the issue than be involved with someone who I didn't really care about intensely.

I guess we're all missing something at some point in our lives. If we weren't things would be far too perfect. And we can't have that. ; ).

**Tara**

P.S. Don't forget, I'm gathering the troops to speak with all of you tomorrow on IRC at channel #spot. 5pm-8pm Pacific Standard--we'll talk to you then. And Tersian--- don't be late.

**July 5th, 1995**
## Jeff

\*\*\*Posted July 6th, 1995

**7/5**Tara: It's been so difficult to get Jeff involved in The Spot project. He doesn't want to log on and make an entry, and he barely talks to us anyway. It really isn't as if he's made any commitment to be a part of this like Lon, Carrie and Michelle have, but it seems only fair that his words should be on these pages. Somehow. I had a plan: Jeff and I have been talking a lot lately, or at least a lot for us. We've been getting closer and I think he's starting to trust me. So one night, when he was in my bedroom, I secretly turned on my mini recorder and started asking questions. Pretty sneaky, Sis. I've transcribed his words, or most of them. He'll never see this so don't feel bad. I just felt it was important to gain a little insight into his life. He shouldn't be a stranger to us, and he's certainly no stranger to The Spot. I think that's part of the intrigue.

Jeff: I don't remember exactly how old I was when we moved in. Around 5 or 6, I think. It was a huge hassle, moving. My mom had all these antiques that took forever to get from the truck to the door and the whole thing seemed like it took weeks.

Tara: So where do your parents live now? Are they close by?

Jeff: Close by in a way, I guess. My parents died when I was still a kid. My older brothers had to sort of take over the parenting roles.

Tara: I'm really sorry, Jeff. I didn't know. I mean, you never.....

Jeff: I never what? What am I supposed to say? Just walk into the living room and spill my guts to all of you? I'm not like you, Tara. I don't wear it all on my sleeve.

Tara: I didn't know you ever even listened to me.

Jeff: Only when necessary.

(We both laugh. Sort of.)

Tara: So....what happened?

Jeff: To what, my parents?

Tara: Yeah.....

Jeff: It was a car accident. It was like a sick car accident. I don't know if the guy was drunk or what, but this guy came plowing down the 101 South going North. He must have been an idiot. See, I doubt my parents even knew what hit them, and their car just...exploded. And this guy went to my parents' gravesite every single day after the accident. He brought these hideous flower bouquets, his condolences, as if that could take back what he did. When my brothers and I went to visit, his flowers were always there. It was just wrong. The guy shouldn't have been allowed to anywhere near there. He eventually went insane and hung himself in his kitchen, my brothers said. I want to puke thinking about that.

Tara: Jesus. Do you remember that, or...?

Jeff: I was so young when a lot of big things like that happened. Sometimes I think that much of what I remember from that time were not my memories of the events, but impressions and stories from my brothers. A lot of days back then and even now sometimes seem to blend together. In a way I feel like I've lived here forever.

Tara: Like you're an old soul?

Jeff: Na, Tara. You're not with me. It's like this life is just, I don't know, everything seems like it takes forever. I guess it's just hard to understand unless you've felt it first hand.

Tara: So what do you remember most about this place?

Jeff: I think my most vivid memory of this place, out of all the years that I've lived at The Spot, was one night when I was maybe 8 years old. The house was a lot different then. It was sort of a Bachelor's pad except that John was always fixing everything and making stuff for the house. He was good with his hands and I learned everything from him.

Tara: Is he the one who taught you how to make all of those little bird houses on the deck?

Jeff: That's him. Anyhow, aside from being handy, we all liked to watch TV, and we had only one television in the house at the time. No, that's not true. We had two; one big set that was affixed to this gigantic room divider that John made, and this tiny television that always stayed in John's room unless Roger moved it or sometimes me. One night, a Friday, I wanted to watch Starsky and Hutch and I wanted to be by myself.

Tara: Did you like to be alone a lot as a kid?

Jeff: Yeah, I guess I did. John and Roger were watching this girl movie in the living room, so I had to move the little one into my room (John hated it when I fell asleep in his bed). I thought nobody would even notice. This is the strange thing: I went into John's bedroom, which is now your bedroom, and headed for the television. All of a sudden, I started to feel really dizzy. I still get that feeling sometimes in certain situations, but that's another story altogether. Anyway, I get this dizzy feeling, but not enough to make me lose balance or anything, just enough to be very aware of myself. And I'm only 8, OK? I go to lift the TV, which is on this little table at the foot of John's bed. There are a bunch of old family pictures on the table. John, Roger, Mom and Dad. And then there's a few of just my mom. So I've got the television in my arms now and I glance over at the picture of my mom and the eyes in the picture, I swear to God, the eyes in the picture looked at me. My mother looked at me! I dropped the little television on the floor and smashed my foot but I was so stunned that I just stood there and stared at her image. John came running when he heard the noise, or at least I think he did. I was a blank slate. All of a sudden I could remember things about being little that I've never remembered before or since.

Tara: Like what?

Jeff: I can't tell you exactly what they were, but a whole relationship with this woman, my mother, flashed through me. And that is when I remembered the man and his gladiola bouquets through my own eyes. So, growing up here....at The Spot. It was a circus, but you know that. Even though I had my brothers to look after me, it was never anything conventional. Anything but. Probably nothing like your life. I don't mean to paint some sort of dark picture of my life. Things weren't necessarily normal, but they were always interesting.

Tara: How long did your parents own The Spot?

Jeff: Just a few years. They bought the place with my Grandparent's money who had owned the house and rented it to different people for about 20 so years. The renters are the people you hear most about. My parents gave it over to us in the will. I guess that's what you get. Your parents move on and leave you with their baggage.

Tara: Do you mean literally or figuratively?

Jeff: Both. Goodnight, Tara.

Tara: Goodnight, Jeff. Thanks.

Jeff leaves my room and doesn't look back.

July 5th, 1995
## Michelle

\*\*\*Posted July 6th, 1995

**July 5**Ha ha!

I'm not crazy. Or if I am, I'm not the one responsible. Steven, or "Captain Steve" as The Spot now refers to him, brought in a photocopy of an old LA newspaper.

According to an article from August of 1965, there was a woman named Janet Rose who had come to LA to make her mark as a singer. She had mild success but couldn't get a break. A somewhat dubious movie studio exec had heard her covering a popular song on an album featuring up and coming musicians. He wanted to meet with her about dubbing the voice of an unnamed soon-to-be-great movie starlet, who was supposed to have the lead in a musical, but couldn't sing a note. On July 19th, 1970, Janet disappeared. Authorities later reported that in her last diary, she wrote about a meeting with this executive at his house in Santa Monica. A house known as The Spot. She was never seen again.

The case is still unsolved.

An interesting bit of Spot history for sure, but it gets even better. Steven spent the afternoon at a Vintage record store and tracked down the album. You know what song she was covering? You guessed it: "I think We're Alone Now."

Okay Janet, I'm listening. We are alone now. What's going on?

July 5th, 1995
## External links

* Tara's entry
* Jeff's entry
* Michelle's entry