February 2001

Ah, look at all the lonely people…

All the lonely people

Where do they all come from?

All the lonely people

Where do they all belong?

Paul and John sang it best.

I sat in bar in Fort Lauderdale two nights ago, watching the people come and go. Drinking my vodka and cranberry, I observed. I watched the ones who came together. I watched the ones who sat alone. I watched the players mosey around, looking for a kill. Looking to seal the deal. Looking for one who could give them one less night of loneliness. Then when I was done, after an hour or so, I got back in my car and drove home.


I’m spending more and more time with my DVD player. Snuggling up with it before I go to sleep. Holding it in my arms, whispering sweet nothings into its power connectors… Whenever I feel down, I pop in something and stare at Ryan Phillippe’s bare ass. It tends to perk me up slightly.

Michael told me my goal for the New Year should be to find a man. He’s got one, and I guess he thinks I’ll be happier if I have one to call my own… Speaking of him, he hasn’t called much of late. He’s too busy. He and his boy went to go get tested last week. I’m sure they’re both fine, since they’ve been all-monogamous-like for the past 5 months… I haven’t heard much from him otherwise…

Well this month marks my 12th column for this site. March 2001 is my one-year anniversary. Wow. I’m more surprised at myself than anything else…

I’ve been spending a lot of my time working on my website. It’s pretty kewl. If you’re interested, you should check it out. There’re even some recent pictures of me buried in there somewhere. Here’s the link for you modern peoples: http://elliotlane.editthispage.com

The way things are going, they’re gonna crucify me.

I’m convinced John was a madman. Marrying Yoko. Eww. What was he thinking?

Maybe next month I’ll have something worth reading… ‘til then:

Later campers,



Elliot, 23, is stuck in the doldrums known as Boca Raton, FL. Contact him via kalelliot@hotmail.com. Soon. Dammit, do it now. I’m not kidding. Email him right now. Doesn’t he deserve your time? He spent all this time writing this column, and whether you liked it or not you could at least have the decency to write him a quick note and tell him. Puh-leaze, like he’s asking for much from you?

Does he want a pint of your blood? No.

Does he want your first-born son? No.

Does he want you to murder his ex (that lying whore)? Nope.

Just a simple little note. Go ahead, give it a try… you may just like it.

kalelliot@hotmail.com. go on, give it a little click. Please?

kalelliot@hotmail.com. come on, I’m begging ya here… please? pretty please?

Dammit! Forget it, I’m going home.

©1995-2001 Oasis Magazine. All Rights Reserved.