#22. One hot, swampy summer day in 1995 a homeless man started to harass her as we walked through Georgetown. I instinctively picked up my bike and raised it above my head and made some random animal noises, and he actually backed off. She never forgot that.
Georgetown, Halloween 1995. My “costume” is that I am a member of Urge Overkill. I swear to God that was the intent. I was *reallllly* into that band then.
#21. It was hilarious watching dudes trying to pick her up, totally oblivious to the fact that she was making fun of them. Often right to their faces.
Paris 1995: “You’ve got to be joking.”
#20. We used to go to the Royal Palace on Connecticut, the one where Kathleen Hanna and the thoroughly empowered feminist punk rock chicks used to strip.
Not the Royal Palace, and not 1995. But a strip club in DC nonetheless. Please: just pretend.
#19. The local punk rock scenesters were constellations in her galaxy of cool. She hired Ian from Nation of Ulysses to design her game. He was funny and kind of a genius. She called him “The Spiv” which I thought was anti-Semitic until I realized he called himself that. Ian helped inspire me to make music, though it took about five years for it to finally kick in.
The Spiv, Washington DC 1995
#18. I was nowhere near as smart as she, but somehow I got to tag along with her. It was always a bit of a mystery to me as to why I made the cut. She really didn’t like that many people. Years later she said she trusted me after meeting my mom, and seeing how close we were. Not that I understood that, but then again I didn’t understand a lot.
Company party badge, 1995. She had one that read “Princess” Something-Or-Other. I don’t remember why.
#17. Her world had a magnetic appeal for me, filled with books, wit, and knowingness. Her every sentence filled with references, clues.
Magnet, 1995. I liked the Beastie Boys and Jane’s Addiction.
#16. I met Theresa in 1995 at Magnet in Washington D.C. She was a few years older and intimidatingly beautiful and sharp. She soon became like the older sister I never had.
The Powerhouse, Washington DC 2010. Magnet is long gone but the legacy remains.
#15. When she died a few of them had the nerve to defend their own bruised egos by taking her down in public. Amazing how some people have no compunction about speaking ill of the dead. The cowards know who they are.
Posing at Magnet, 1995 on a break from making this, which won this.
#14. You see, behind the glamorous image they were brilliant, incredibly funny & perhaps insufficiently skilled in the art of pretending to be modest. Easy to see why people would feel excluded, and look for ways to take them down. Jilted ex-partners came out of the woodwork.
Chop Suey, featuring art by Ian Svenonious, music by Fugazi and narrated by David Sedaris - the first indie rock CD-ROM for girls.
#13. I felt protective but also amazed at how little was being written about them that captured anything resembling the truth. For some reason, I trusted the NY Mag reporter, so I met him at a French restaurant on St. Marks Place and talked about who they were as people, as friends.
Mysteriously left on my desk one day at Magnet, Wash D.C. 1995
#12. They were being portrayed as the Golden Couple gone wrong. Theresa in particular was being demonized as being beautiful, intelligent, talented…but crazy! Or: jealous! Such schadenfreude with which the story was being reported, as if to spread the message: “Thank God you’re not beautiful and talented, dear reader: IT MAKES YOU KILL YOURSELF.”
Raymond wrote this at the time.
Theresa, Jeremy and Tuesday in Woodside, CA July 16, 2005.
#11. I had to leave town. Booked a flight to Mexico, to escape. I shouldn’t have checked email: reporters with questionable intentions, rumors and just plain lies. The internet was a snake eating its own tale, with countless conspiracy theories about there being conspiracy theories. I stopped reading things.
Vanity Fair, January 2008.
#10. Everything in New York became haunted. I helped her get a job there; we had brunch there; we met Jeremy there. Ghosts everywhere.
Central Park, Guided by Voices show July 12 1997
#9. No, they were not hiding there. Theresa was really dead. And Jeremy was really missing. It made no sense. It makes no sense.
NY Observer, July 2007
#8. As I stood in front of the door unable to process what was happening, I told the NY Post reporter it couldn’t be true because they wouldn’t do something like this: it was too obvious, too melodramatic. I was convinced they were still alive.
We walked across Manhattan to Jeremy’s gallery in Chelsea and asked if they were hiding there. I was trying to think of how to indicate that I was meant to be told: “You can tell me, I’m an insider too.”
A gift from our houseguests, 2005.
