Frigid Bitch: It's like a 12-step program for assholes.
Lunch Lines: A noontime sentence.
Joseph Campblog: Exploring the books of Joseph Campbell.

So! It's finally spring, when a young person's heart turns to fancy. Gone are the regrets of winter; and before us unfold crisp, fragrant days offering nothing but promises and obeisance to our plans. You do have plans, don't you? Of course you do. If not, I'd have removed you from this list as I have done to so many in the past, and, inevitably, to so many in the future.
Friday, May Second; Nine PM, Cafe Royale in the Tenderloin. Summer is the time for Doing Things, and next Friday will be an excellent opportunity to brag about the lovely few months that lie ahead; and to improve upon your plans by involving the other spectacular individuals who will no doubt in in attendance.
Don't wear anything ... complicated.
Love,
Shiela

Frigid Bitch will be held this Friday at 9pm at Cafe Royale in the Tenderloin. It is going to be fantastic.

Oh I see what's going on. Distract me with nice weather during the week prior to Frigid Bitch, and you think I'll neglect to send out the email. Well FORGET it. This is the crucial seventh month (seventh!) and your participation has never been more urgent. And I suppose you'd claim that you can think of something BETTER to do at 9pm on March 7th at Cafe Royale in the Tenderloin? No, no you can't; because you spend every Friday night sitting at home giving your cat a perm and learning to play the conch.
We'll be up on the balcony, just like last month; so don't go looking for us amongst the ground-floor tables. Also, bring a candle, because it's fucking dark up there.
Ta.
Sheila

Can be found here: http://www.jacksonwest.com/frank-speaks/

So it's a Frigid Bitching you're after, is it? Well then you've come to the right place. Friday! February 1st! Nine PM! Cafe Royale in the Tenderloin, I'm feeling aggressive this month because I accomplished far more work on my project this January than I have in any month since I started this little scam.
How about you? Were you as productive as I? No, you could not possibly have been, even if you are Steven, who claims to have made some headway in the last few weeks. And even if you are Setch, who has a ton of free time now that he's no longer spending every waking moment lighting things on fire. Or even if you are John, who finally deigned to respond to one of my FB emails but then snubbed us all by declining to attend.
So anyway. The point of all this is, we're expecting you to show up; but we're not expecting you to show up empty-handed.
Rambunctiously,
Sheila

Well, here we are. Nearly 2008. This year wasn't so bad, for all its faults -- I mean, it wasn't totally abusive, like that loathsome 2006. Remember 2006? Ugh! Let's never speak of it again.
But still -- could've been better. Fine, the year didn't thrash you to a pulp; but why didn't YOU thrash IT? I was hoping you'd actually make good on all your big talk, and your delicious potential, and your terrifying threats. Frankly, I expected better. We ALL expected better. I'm sure YOU expected better.
But hey, look, it's a new year! A perfect time to get off your ever-swelling ass and do those things that you're always sighing about. At our next meeting -- Friday, the fourth, at Cafe Royale at 9pm -- I'll be consulting my clipboard and assigning homework. January checkin is MANDATORY for all participants (as is EVERY checkin) and if you miss this one, you won't know what'll be due from you in February.
Also at the January checkin: brainstorming about where we'll be holding future checkins, now that we're ready to say goodbye to Cafe Royale. So if you'd like to suggest the next venue, THIS is the meeting at which your demands might finally be taken seriously.
Withered and gray,
Sheila

It's time to stop this ridiculous pretense and come clean. But where, and when? Oh yes, at Frigid Bitch. THAT. How on Earth could I have forgotten?

It's tomorrow, Friday, at 9pm, you know. Cafe Royale at Post and Leavenworth. Brock will be wearing his black prince; Setch will fume; Daniel will do a HYUGE presentation about, I don't know, farm animals or something. Hopefully Laurie can finally relent to a haircut now that Halloween is over; Ron may re-appear; and that whats-his-name, Christopher or Bertram, maybe he'll be back. (Doubtful.)

Honestly, it'll be EVER so delightful. If you pretend you can't make it, we'll know EXACTLY what to think of you. And of your continued presence on the guest list.

Wise to your jive,

Sheila

You there! The ugly one whose nose looks like a bike horn!
Can it possibly be a coincidence that last month's Frigid Bitch, the least-attended in history, was also the most successful? Yes! Surely! It must be a coincidence! Because the alternative is too horrible to contemplate.
But I'll tell you what's not too horrible to contemplate: your many debts and obligations. Not just to society, or to the Cheese of the Month Club, but to YOURSELF. Or, more specifically, to me. For you have made a commitment (willingly or otherwise) to accomplish something, anything, over the course of the next 11 months; and by gum I intend to hold you to it. Or to hold it against you. Anyway, I won't be satisfied until I'm holding something. OR SOMEONE.
For example: Brock promised to obtain some black prints, and to meet more overweight women. DTHMatt is working on his animation. Setch has a top-secret plan, probably to take over the world. Andy has decided to take up knitting. And I am perennially on the cusp of having a novel.
And so now, what of you, you bramble-thicket of lies? What have you done for us lately? And by us, I mean yourself.
Prepare to explain yourself next Friday -- the fifth -- at 9:00pm, at Cafe Royale in the miserable Tenderloin. The consequences of your continued failure to attend are simply too horrible to contemplate.
Shrilly,
Shiela

The kickoff of Frigid Bitch 3 (or whatever) was, possibly, the greatest FB meeting we have ever had, if I do say so myself. Thank heavens none of us ruined it by relenting to our vomitous cravings.

Attending: Brock, Matt who is Never Called Matthew, Daniel, Andy, and several bottles of wine. Also, Gavin Rossdale, and the rest of 1996. Twin Peaks' music cannot hold a candle -- not even a single dying firefly -- to Cafe Royale's angry mid-90s alternative radio. What a treat! I am confident that we have chosen an excellent location for the next year's gatherings, nasty neighborhood and lack of transit be damned.

Commitments: Brock seeks to obtain either some black prints or a Black Prince, and also some fag hags with eating disorders; Non-Matthew has his animationy project, and a weekly schedule (as yet undetermined) for working on Stuff. I too much hold myself to a schedule -- when I enforce specific "writing time," much to my surprise, I actually manage to produce things. Daniel, I assume, is working still on his SECRET PROJECT. And Andy, oh, he's a slippery devil. I forgot to get a promise from him.

Next month will be even better, and by better, I mean worse.

Dear People I Don't Know On A Mailing List For Something Else,

As has become our yearly custom, we shall once again coagulate this Friday to plot against mankind's greatest threat: altruism. As you prepare your impossible schemes and skepticism for another year of toil, it is with great personal and self-serving pride that I announce the wicked launch of:

FRIGID BITCH THREE: VICTORY IS MINE!
AUG 31
9PM
CAFÉ ROYALE at 800 Post St, in the Tenderloin

Your Final Presentations will be presented; and your projects for the upcoming year will be committed-to. Be prepared to make bold promises to which you will be constantly and unfavorably compared for the next twelve months.

Tremble not at the exotic new locale or the increasingly abbreviated invitation list! Gone are the shrieking days of Twin Peaks, with its tedious accessibility and dangerous riff-raff. This year we are sly! Surreptitious! Exclusive to the point of hermitage! And of course, all this information is explained in vivid detail in the FAQ, which does not exist yet but I'm hoping you will write for me.

See you Friday.

Practically perfuckt in every way,

Shiela