I entered Heaven’s Gate without consulting the website. Versace died in People by Cunanan. Jobs went Apple in paper, rubbed unshaven legs. Diana, word of mouth while I was on the can. Camp, computer deprivation; child abuse, newsmag cams. Touchtyped for America through public continuing ed. Summer ’97, Netscape dead (’98?), Ti interred in ermine swoosh, shroud the color of Lent and Advent, laid on 36,000-count Dow pillow.

Hometown, D.C. New Economy. Friends’ parents, FBI, CIA. None understood our family AOL handle (forensic accounting inside joke). Grandfather Navy and Raytheon, not far from RCA’s Nipper sculpture (dog, gramophone). Uncle played Intellivision, materials at MIT. Mitre. IIT, Tsinghua. SAIC. Booz Allen, Northrop Grumman. One tested me on vocab in the paper library. Public Ivy; sister, Ivy. Their mom taught me to hunt and peck on Apple IIe.

Desktop royal flush, played to win. Myst cheat platforms, Cameron flicks profondes. Bluest Viagra; deadlinks, purple, invisible. I translate “Give It To You” into French in unsents, go Ivy. Risible. In n-th year of Caesar, friend who taught me how to AIM blog famous for loving his young house. (Public Ivy.) Crush who’d IM’d biology, born Ides of March, Marxist geographer. (Maroon.)

My favorite colors are blue and red. Combined, they’re purple, color of Empire, Hale-Bopp risen. Yahoo!

Do, I do!

Maureen Miller is a pathologist and an adviser to Genius. “Mood we will never see her in: Angry”