---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- + doomed to obscurity + issue ten + may 7th, 1996 + $$$$$$$ $$$$$$$ssssssssssssss .s&$$$$P"""Q$$$$$$$$$$s. .s&""""""""$P"""Q$ $ $ $ ggggggggggg $ $ $ $ $..........$ $.....$ $.....$ $ $ $.....$ $..........$ $::::::::::$ $:::::$ $:::::$ $.........$ $:::::$ $::::::::::$ $||||||||||$ $|||||$ $|||||$ $:::::::::$ $|||||$ $||||||||||$ $iiiiiiiiii$ $iiiii$ $iiiii$ $|||||||||$ $iiiii$ $iiiiiiiiii$ $!!!!!!!!!!$ $!!!!!$ $!!!!!$ $iiiiiiiii$ $!!!!!$ $!!!!!!!!!!$ `9$$$$$$$$$$bsssd$$$$$$$ `9$$$$$bsssd$$$$$$$$$P' `9$$$$$bsssd$$$$$$$$$$P' + "i've never met a girl that i didn't beat & engulf in flames." - styx + ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- _____ 6/ ^..^ "my heart belongs to ramen soup" \_____(oo) by - mogel WW WW greetings, my lovely friends! this month in dto history has been a glorious plethora of confusion, anger, love, betrayal, disruption in the law, discovery, excitement, reunion, growth, angst, bliss, & all-around wacky times. however, we still persevere through thick & thin - all for you, mighty dto reader! forgive my excessively happy mood, but a lot of things in my life have been finally working out for me. in the middle of this gosh-golly-great state i'm in, out comes time to fry up my good ol' editor & slap you guys with another helping of our oh-so sexy style. we're so cute. when you read through this issue of dto, there's going to be one obvious element that will stick out in your heads more than anything - a theme!# dto's *coincidental* look at love. i guess spring time's emotional buzz is coming loud & clear all over the dto member list, like a disease. yes, dto tackles the very concept of love in its various angles & stages. on a related front, i was surprised to find not one, but *two* articles relating to the concept which i joke about quite a bit, "cyber-love"; that is, meeting a girl/guy from "online". strangely enough, however, this phenomenon is becoming all-too common lately. it's been hitting more & more computer geeksters as the day goes by. you know what's funny about it? as bizarre & potentially disastrous meeting someone via computer & then getting into a relationship is - there is, of course, nothing wrong with it inherently. i'm not talking about the long distance "you live in china & we're probably never going to meet, but you never know!#" & not something actually solely dedicated to modem contact ("we dcc chat every day - but he didn't op me on irc, should we break up?!#"), just the idea of initial communication. the computer, of course, is a way of seeing someone's personality, intelligence, & ability to communicate layed out before you, crystal clear, ready to be liked or disliked. but love is such a funny notion, in every way. what's acceptable to one person isn't to another. what's wonderful to one person, might be disgusting or stupid to even their closest friends. love is one of the most difficult to define words in existence, along with "art", & the english language does a horrible job at using both. wouldn't it be great if you could buy your relationship's progress in stores? think about it. various messages with random cliche coupons such as "let's just be friends" or "i'm thinking about you" or "you mean a lot to me" or "i love you" or, of course, the very popular "fuck you, you emotionally fucked up obsessive computer geek! stop stalking me!". that would be a REAL book of love, man. "love is more fun than james earl jones on a trampoline!" - midget caesar in this issue, aside from tons of sappy stuff, you're also going to see various comebacks from writers that we haven't heard from in a while, such as kaia, crank, shadow tao, kojak, & sweeney erect. in coming issues, you should expect the return of fake scorpion, sed, neko, vanir, & others. another thing to note is the silly ascii portraits of all the dto writer's heads (a nice touch, eh?) that appear before every writer that wrote this month - a total of _16_!# woo woo. also interesting to note, as almost a retort to jamesy's "girls can't write" article last issue, we have *four* girl writers in dto this month. that's an e'zine all-time record, i believe. who would have thought that a 'zine could successfully put out articles by styx, jamesy, *&* girls & still not have any problems? i think that's just a taste the power of _dto & you_! as i gaze over this issue of dto one last time, i see a lot of encoded (some more than others) messages of personal, real-life things going on in all of our various lives. this is recorded history, folks. our history. a lot of things have been going down this month, but let's please stay 'connected' no matter what happens between any of us. good news! the new & super awesome, souped-up dto homepage has returned, after prism.net crashed *yet again* last month (we still love you, teletype). the page was created & is maintained by jamesy. check it out: http://wwti.iway.net/dto. in other news, a month after it's establishment, the official "dto love shack" was declared illegal & after cops invaded the premises - me, black francis, & dead cheese were forced to move out & go our separate ways. subletting sucks. but it's just *another* example of THE MAN trying to bring us down. last but not least, _the_ e'zine event of the year, dummercon, is coming in july. the attendees include *almost* every member of dto, a plethora of #zines regulars, tons of wacky philly kids, & more. information on the event will be released soon, so keep your eyes open. this year's dummercon will make history. after all, anyone that doesn't have a part in wrecking yet *another* one of rattle's computers is missing out. at any rate, this issue is a huge treat, clocking in at 83k. munch away, pookiebear! ____ ___| |_ _ ___| | _______ ----------------------------- | | | | ----------------------------- ----------------------------- | | | | | | ----------------------------- | | | | | | doomed to obscurity ten | | | | | | & all contents therein .. | | | | | | ----------------------------- | | | | | | ----------------------------- ----------------------------- |_____| |_____| ----------------------------- |___ _ 1 - my heart belongs to ramen soup by - mogel 2 - doomed to obscurity ten & all contents therein .. by - mogel 3 - white lumps: someone likes the outdoors a lot! by - dead cheese 4 - identity crisis by - kaia 5 - julian simmons & the psychic friends network by - sweeney erect 6 - the happy game by - juke 7 - why everyone should smoke pot by - styx 8 - a girl he never met by - kojak 9 - gimme access! by - mogel 10 - we are the sons of no one by - murmur 11 - no outlet by - crank 12 - phat rhymes & dope thymes: old skool by - dead cheese 13 - you think it's over now? by - james hetfield 14 - i bet it would be really funny if by - puck 15 - shine six/eight & the last musty smells by - eerie 16 - asking for it by - black francis 17 - nowhere to go but up? who says we're moving? by - whoops 18 - realize by - shadow tao 19 - the original evil sugar - condiments; chapter 1000 by - murmur 20 - mistaken by - girlie17 ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ___ /o O\ \ / | ^_ | o|| "white lumps: someone likes the outdoors a lot!" /\___/\// by - dead cheese | toast | someone likes the outdoors a lot. i think it might be me. i like to swing. i like to run. i will play in the sun pouring down. i will pick up sticks and swing them, pretending i am a great warrior! i will grasp the ants that walk by between my thumb and fingers and watch them squirm, until they bite me! i will eat the ants that bite me, but not the ants that are nice - for they shall receive a much nicer fate. i will throw them into the pond and teach them to swim! someone likes the outdoors a lot. i think it may be freddy. freddy likes to pick the apples from the tree and eat them right there! freddy will smell the morning air and feel the dew between his toes and laugh in delight because there is nothing more wonderful than dew 'twixt the toes! freddy will catch up his baby sister in his arms and run! simply _run_! sometimes freddy will stumble on a rock and his sister will cry, but that's ok. freddy knows how to make his sister feel better. he has only to take the rock he stumbled upon and smack the sweet child in the head three times (no more, no less!) and the dear girl will be quiet for hours. someone likes the outdoors a lot. i'm not quite sure who it is! whoever it is must love the sun, the trees, the animals, the air, the dew. someone must love the outdoors a lot! i love the outdoors a lot! i really do! someone likes the outdoors a lot! i think it might be me! i will sing to the treetops! i will play in the running waters! i like the outdoors a lot. i really, really do! why don't you believe me? why do you argue? i like the outdoors, and you should, too! ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- .---. | o.o | |\ - /| "identity crisis" ,|_)_(_|. by - kaia / \ $ pico journal.txt __________________________________________________________________________ | | | | | it'll never happen to us .. | | | | we'll never be art fags, | | nor new age children, | | nor alternafreaks, | | nor lousy poets searching for meaning in toothpaste. | | | | we'll never be mean, rough-n-tumble motherfuckers, | | nor shiny happy invertebrate 'yes'-kids. | | | | we'll never be stuffed literary turds, | | nor intellectual fuckers writing songs about fermat's last | | theorem. | | | | well, maybe *she* was an intellectual fucker - | | | | .. in a sense. | |--- | | the meaning of Life is to LOVE. | |--- | | no. the meaning of Life is to be HAPPY. | |--- | | *NO. the meaning of Life is SHIT.* | | | | um, not to be lewd or anything; maybe i need to reword. | | | | life is what you produce. life is something that happens out | | of necessity: you don't choose writing or poetry or music or art or | | politics or fame; these things choose you, so you produce them. | | there's no search for meaning involved. life is processing your | | environment - growing as you make certain parts part of you and | | discarding the gunk that doesn't matter. although sometimes it's | | hard, life is something you should be able to walk away from with a | | sense of accomplishment. | | | | in summary, life is .. well, Life *is* shit, and that's all | | there is. | | | | | |__________________________________________________________________________| so i woke up this morning with a mild hangover and my girlfriend lying on top of me, her belly to mine, her long legs a softly entwining work of art. i took a quick mood check and even though my head was pulsing, i decided i felt neither unhappy, nor unsad. just generally content. kind of. but also restless, like i needed something. a cigarette? perhaps. i groped for the pack on the bureau. {fuck!} my fingertips wouldn't reach. i feared moving an inch, however, lest i nudge her from her beautiful dreams. how silly, i thought, to be trapped between my girlfriend's legs! many men would give their right hand to be in my position .. she was the one whose wildly innocent eyes had secretly claimed a semester of my physics class lust. back then, i had constantly worried she would catch me staring. i didn't know why, but i would have sooner bathed in windex than ever let this happen! so, each of my precious gazes had yielded only a brief burst of eye-candy: .. and after nearly a thousand glances of her pretty silhouette, i had been able to close my eyes and trace the outline of her back. how i had ached to do this for real! and now, with our two-month anniversary approaching, its *reality* was like anything surreal. {surreal kinda like a giant eyeball}, i mused. {giant eyeball, heh.} giant eyeball with an iris of blue sky and fluffy clouds. {miro, miro on the wall who's the fairest of them all? my girl, cause *she's* a giant eyeball .. } i was so just-woken-up silly! i mouthed a funky air-drum and began to rap to myself, in whispers, about having no foresight and 20/20 hindsight. it was amusing, for a while. then i got bored and stopped .. all was silence. i stared at the tom & jerry wallpaper and yearned once more for a nicotine fix. silence. the craving passed as i synchronized our breathing. maybe if i concentrated hard enough, our hearts would synchronize, too. after all, after nearly two months, i'd noticed how our minds were very much alike .. was it really true, or just what i wanted to believe? although there's no one i respected more than someone who could disagree *well* with me, i've always adored how she's agreed with almost everything that's ever exited my mouth. she'd validate a fucking fishbone were i to spit it out. what persuasive magic i must work! {heh, strange how whenever i get verrry extra-specially close to her, like, a tongue's length away from her soul, all i see is my own reflection, staring back.} i thought some more. {heh! maybe that really *is* all she is. a giant eyeball reflecting - me back to me. a giant eyeball with an identity crisis!} hmm. i couldn't tell whether the thought had been *really* deep, or just deceptively indulgent as morning-silly musings often are. either way, it amused me and i ached to record it, but my powerbook was also out of reach, right next to the cigarettes. again, i fought the urge to squiggle away .. {honeygirl, i must really love you} only for a moment every cell in my body lived for her only. and my life was completely fulfilled but for a moment only - my tummy did this little flip-flop as i craned my neck to kiss her cheek, and then, almost magically, she shifted so i could free my arms and fumble for what i wanted .. huzzah!# {powerbook? bingo!} quickly, unthinkingly, i typed thoughts relating to my girlfriend and on the meaning of life. {cigarette? bingo!} i put the cigarette to my lips and my mouth watered in anticipation of a smoke. {lighter .. ?} ack! where was it? it wasn't on the table. goddamnit! i lifted my head to see if the lighter had fallen onto the carpet, but i couldn't see over the edge of the bed, and i *still* really didn't want to wake my girlfriend .. sigh. i inhaled the cigarette raw. {ech!#} i decided i must really reaallly dig my woman, because pretending to smoke was nothing like the real thing. "i love you." she probably didn't hear me through her sleep. better that way, i figured, because one of the only original opinions she harbored was that you only tell people you love them when you know them like yourself. by her definition i didn't think we'd ever "love" each other. doubts on our compatibility had nagged me from the very beginning. her hobby of choice, for example, was babysitting. by my definition, however, i loved her very much. to me, LOVE was such a paradoxical word - both beautiful and stupid, rare and commonplace Life. it was so many things .. including garden-variety lust and infatuation - the stuff dreamers go through like toilet paper. the stuff that's as common as bad guitarists in wannabe punk bands. the stuff that's nothing more than a psychoactive drug. the stuff that's unavoidable, since we're all just animals with selfish genes, anyway. {resistance is futile!} her beauty keeps me coming back for more .. maybe, by her definition, *that's* what i loved - i certainly knew her luscious, creamy body like my own flesh! i totally admitted i hungered to devour her physicality far before her scattered mind and its goddamn agreeability and sloppy reasoning. like, some of her twisted logic i'd never understand. why did she waste her soul on arguing pointless points and finding the exception to every single fucking rule in the universe? why had she joined the grammar police? why did she torture her soul by chaining her mind to the idea of purity? heh. to trick the boys into thinking she's hard-to-get, perhaps. or for security, perhaps - "as long as i don't fuck them, i won't be a whore, but anything else is fair game." yeah? so 69 me baby let's bring in another lover now work me harder i want it up the ass! um .. anyway, i didn't know why she chose to share her virginity with me, something about my being worth it, she said. ..WORTH IT?! bring in the testosterone and a pretty girl, and all rationality is gone out the window! {icky.} the cigarette was starting to get soggy between my lips, so i spit it out. i'll never understand her, but i positively love her! the first time we went all the way, it was magic. and now - now we fuck like rabbits. its a nice counterbalance to the intellectual boredom. i can honestly say i'm blissful in her company. i used to call this bliss "happiness," and sometimes i still feel myself falling into the trap of thinking i'm happy when i'm really just blissful. until people realize the difference, they'll never ever be "happy," because true happiness is nothing special, it's just Life. ah! the meaning of life? i rushed to record it while i still remembered. if my girlfriend was neither my life, nor my happiness, what was she? {she's my heavenly bliss!} bliss. it's nothing more than another psychoactive drug. just like most songs are nothing more than 4 chords. bliss, it's just a drug, that's all .. once you take enough, it fucks up the whole happiness scale. your mind resets its idea of "normal" to what used to be "bliss," and suddenly, anything that would have otherwise been normal would be as boring as enya, and anything that would've otherwise been bad would toss your soul tumbling headfirst into a fiery pit of hell with all the boys who seduce women by looking pathetic. then, you realize it's time for everyone to learn some new chords. happiness, love, bliss, lust, whatever. it was *all* just a part of Life. i put my fingertips to the keys, but nothing came out. for the life of me, i couldn't remember most of my thoughts from the last few minutes. then, suddenly, it came to me in a flash: the meaning of life. it was different from all the rest, and so obvious and common-sense! i let it rip as fast as my fingers could type. then i put the powerbook down, and put my arms around her, and put my thoughts to rest in her sweet warmth. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- .-----. v0 0v /\x/\ "julian simmons and the psychic friends network" | ||| | by - sweeney erect | ||| | '~^^^~` one day julian simmons woke up bored and cranky and decided he needed a way to share his misery with many others. so he checked his morning paper and discovered an ad for a job in telemarketing. since there are few better ways to spread human misery than to be a telemarketer, julian hopped in his porsche and applied for the job. as it happened, the job was not technically telemarketing. it was, in fact, a job working on a 1-900 psychic line. his job was officially described as "answer the phone. keep the poor bastard on the line for as long as you can." julian decided this was going to be a job he liked a lot while he kept it. the first caller was an old woman. "hello? hello?" julian began to mumble incoherently. he figured she'd probably be hard of hearing and she'd think he was saying something. it worked. "hello?" "nargle bargle." "what's that sonny?" "harple darple." "huh?" she asked concerned, "i'm hard of hearing." with some urgency julian repeated, "*harple darple*." after a few minutes he began to add words. "hagry pagry die unless murgle druggle listen to me kolp huppy buried in grappo .. " and so on and so on. after about ten minutes she hung up clearly panicked. his next call wanted to know where to invest his money. "i'm closing my eyes. i'm imagining something. i'm broadcasting it to you," said julian. the man got excited. "i see it!" "what is it?" "buy ibm stock." "nope, that's not it." "oh. at&t?" "nope." after about ten minutes julian said, "look, i'm not really thinking of anything. so do us both a favor and hang up." his next caller was a rabid new age believer named sandra. she sounded very pretty. in julian's experience very little but good could come from desperate, naive women. "stay right there," he said. "you need sex magic and i'll be right there." "hurry," she said. "i need you bad." "you've got no idea, babe," he said and ran out to his car. it would be a good day after all. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- .x%%%x. ( O_O ) "the happy game" \ o / by - juke -`~~~'- this evening, i think i shall kill myself. do not worry. it's only for enjoyment. please do not think i am depressed or suicidal. nor do i have any sort of psychological or mental illnesses. i assure you my head is on as tight as it could possibly be, thank you. it is just that i like to play games. i do not play these games very often. in fact, they are quite rare. it is just that when i play them - i play as hard as i can and do not stop until the game has reached the end and the winner has been declared. i play so hard sometimes people question whether i am really playing a game at all. i know i am, and that's all that matters to me. this, which for now i will dub "the suicide game" is a new game. what am i thinking? of course it is a new game. i would be dead otherwise, wouldn't i? of course i would. more inane comments by me. anyways, back to my fun. you know what? i really do not like calling my little game "the suicide game." it sounds rather negative. let's call it "the happy game." yes, i like that much, much better. i think i should bring up the question of my psychological state again. please have total faith that i am 100% sane. i have no doubts in my mind about that and i hope you have no doubts as well. i can not play my game if you have doubts. please be honest. do any have you have any doubts at all? no? good, but please do not be afraid to comment at any moment before my game starts. this evening i am going to ask for you complete patience. my games are never quick and easy, nor are they easy to understand in thy mind. my games are for the intellect, for no one less than an intellect could even comprehend the complicated and intricate rules and instruction one must follow in this game. now that i am sure of our understanding of my psychological state and i am sure of your complete patience, i will begin the first and last "happy game." good night everyone. i hope you all have a nice evening, i know i will. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ____ (-o0-) "why everyone should smoke pot" | __ | by - styx |__U_| ou should smoke po tbecause it makes you feel good. and warm. it ameks you drink a ot because your mouth gets real dry and you get hungry nd pizza and dibarettes tatse better. it doesnt' cost as much as coke or nothing so you don't go broke. you also amke friends with all of the really cool kids at shcool not like those magic the gatering faggoits. it alsot makes you play instrunments better. my riend's brother said that it situmlates the left side of your brain so you actally get smarter when you smoke pot. well ont' get me wrong you can't take your SATs on pot or drive or nothing!!!! you just draw better pictures and play the guitar better when you pot pot. that is all. it isn't addicting either. iread in _high timees_ that ethse doctors in nevad a injected THC equivlant of about for thousand joints into this mouse and it shit on itself and all but after a couple of days it was fine!!! like my friend;s dog that ate all my friend's pot and for a bunch of days it sat in the corenr and shit on hinmself. it was fnny but after some time the dog shit outside like he is supposed too. also when chicks smoke pot they get all honry and want to get down your boxesr and shit! my frined's brother says that he has beeen with more chicks high then not. there is also some music and movies adn books you dont' fully undestand until when you are stoned. like alise in wonderland, pulp fictoin, pink floydd, mtv's oddities, 2001 a space odissey, and many others!!!!! trust me, they take on a totallyd ifferent meaning! just rememeber: why did god putt pot on the eardth if he did not want us to use it???? ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- .-----. | o.o | | _ | "a girl he never met" _\___/_ by - kojak / \_/ \ he poured all of himself into her. his thoughts, hopes, dreams, aspirations, letdowns, loves, regrets - she knew what he was & who he wanted to be. but who was she? a nickname, in a sense, & nothing else. an enigma. there was a familiarity in their conversation. a connection. something he couldn't explain. he could tell her anything and not have to worry about her telling all his friends. she was a confidant, someone to be trusted. he was at a point in his life where he needed someone to trust. someone to hold on to. without her, he might've slipped over the edge. many a night had been spent staying up late talking to her, expressing how he felt, waiting for a reaction. she'd always know just what to say and when to say it. after talking to her, he'd feel infinitely better about whatever situation was troubling him .. even if it was a situation that involved their relationship. he was content while talking to her. no other girl had made him feel so himself. he didn't have to worry if he was looking bad that day or didn't get a lot of sleep & wasn't responsive during conversation. she allowed for things like that, something that other girls hadn't. he'd always wanted someone to be his best friend. sure, he'd had best friends in the past, many of them being a confidant much like her, but she was different. she was the _real deal_. at the same time that he shared all these things with other people, he would get self-conscious. the notion that someone knew who he was at his core, the raw basics of his being, scared him. he didn't want to be known, he wanted to remain anonymous, a voice in the crowd. he'd never been known to have open, heart-to-heart talks with people, always struggling with his emotions by himself. he lived a lonely life, in a sense. not physically lonely, for he was a very outgoing person with tons of "friends", but how could he consider them that? they were simply acquaintances, people who he asked how they were doing when he saw them. nothing more, nothing less. he knew everything about everyone, absorbing other people's problems, but now problems of his own were building. he was becoming a steam cooker, the pressure just welling up inside, until one day, he'd blow. but that's just what she was to him, a release. he could tell her anything and everything, and she'd still be there at the end of his rambling offering him a response, usually logical. this treatment was something he'd never felt before, and he became addicted to it. because this girl knew who he was, what he was, he felt that he had to know her. he consumed himself with finding out about her - having her tell him exactly what was going on in _her_ life. their talks became more and more serious. topics of all varieties popped up in conversation. he found himself attracted to her; not for her great looks or body, but for HER. the way she acted, the way she talked, the way she reacted - he became immersed in her. he wanted to be a large part of her life, but how could he tell her this? she knew him, and he knew her. they were perpetually together, yet always apart. the distance between them wasn't a relationship distance, but a physical distance. the physical distance between them tore him apart. he wanted so badly to reach out and touch the delicate skin of her face. to hold her near him and feel her breathing. it wasn't about sex, it was about commitment, love, & expression. he wanted to merge with her, become one. "why must she be so far away?" he thought on a regular basis. he tormented himself with thoughts of what *could* be between them, how he'd like things to be. he pictured them together, holding hands and walking down a crowded city street, two people among thousands - yet not intertwined with the masses around them. a world where only the two of them counted and nothing else was of any particular importance. he felt in tune with her, as if they had already joined minds. her mind intrigued him, always twitching, thinking, creating. never before had he been so attracted to someone. it was her that would make him complete, he thought, and only her. slowly, he became an overbearing person. his constant emotions became a stress on their relationship; him pushing her away at the very same time he needed her close. the distance between them grew, matching the geographic distance. he felt cold and alone, having no one to talk to. finally, she was gone; physically there, a friend, but nothing more. she was another "acquaintance"; something that could've been so much more, if he'd only been able to approach the situation in another way. he felt sorry for her, himself - the two of them. he'd done this to himself, it was nothing that he could fix. he was delegated to the position of friend, when he could've been a lover. this realization hurt him, struck a chord deep within his soul. "there could've been so much more," he wrote in a letter to her, "we could've been perfect. a dream. now that dream is shattered, and with it, my being." it was a girl he never met. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- "gimme access!" by - mogel date: 7:27 pm tue apr 16, 1996 number : 23 of 24 from: mastermindz base : private mail to : mogel refer #: none subj: new user application replies: none stat: normal origin : local yo, sup, i'm spunky fucky monkeys mutha fuckin man. u dig? i can zone on the telephone all night long u kno.. i am the elite mutha phucka, the man from down unda', there never will b anotha'.. you see what i'm sayin? these phools that i'm playing,.. you know they all used to the game but you'll never beat me cause' you don't even know my name.. you dig? haha.. anyway. i'm on all the elite boardz in da' area and i am a member of e-vil software. i'm old enough to kno whatz goin on, and where it be.. u dig? and uhh, i also do ansi on the side.. u dig, so i'll talk to u l8r master-bater.. hahaha. - mastermindz [e-vil] ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- _____ /_____\ // o.o \\ "we are the sons of no one" (| _ |)) by - murmur __\ /__ /_ `-' _\ he didn't know what she looked like, had only this vague image. he didn't know how'd she sound in person, he'd only talked to her on the phone a couple times. really, he didn't know too much about her. all he knew he'd learned via a computer. a few computers, actually. his computer and his dad's computer and the whole big computer lab at his expensive liberal arts university. but what he did know, he liked. he liked that a whole lot. she was flying in on wednesday. it was her spring break, and she wanted to get away from home. he wasn't really sure when she got the airline ticket what she hoped to do when she got there. but in that span of three weeks he got to know her a lot better. he'd known about her for over a year, because of this old bbs he used to call. that's the first place he saw her handle anywhere. but he'd never so much as seen a picture. he really had no idea what to expect. it was wednesday already. wow. already? it had been three grueling weeks of anticipation and nervousness. in that time he got to know a lot about her. but you can't replace actual physical interaction with much of anything. he knew that. he knew that full well as he got on board the bus to meet her at the airport. he didn't have a car, see. had to take the bus. it was a nice bus, he figured, so far as buses come and go. three hours of reflection on the bus. what would she look like? would her online personality really be her? or was it an illusion? he had no way to know. for he, he wasn't the same online as he was in person. how could he be? nobody could act out his true persona online. there are so many things you can't appreciate about someone over a computer screen. their conversations had gotten really serious. they found each other's images, their online personas, to be truly amazing. they clicked. but that was online. there are so many differences between being online and being REAL. they'd find out, of course. he hoped like hell that all was not a fairy tale. but all he could do was wait and see. really, he'd already made his mind up that she was extra-special and was everything he's always hoped for in a girl. she said the same about him, too. it would take calamity to strike things down. but how can you not worry about calamity? put all your eggs in a basket like this and BOOM! something not-so-good is liable to happen. he knew better. i mean, hell, he might NOT find her attractive at all. it wasn't that unreasonable, was it? the bus was stopping. he was at the airport. first chance he got, he checked the time. then he checked the arrivals. her flight was on time and was scheduled to land in .. fifteen seconds! he was worried she'd already be off the plane before he got to the terminal. that would kind of sabotage the ideal he had of the situation. she'd be wandering around, looking for him, but he wouldn't be there yet. it would take away some of the excitement of the encounter that he had imagined. he got to the terminal and found that indeed the plane was landed and docked. but he couldn't tell if anyone had gotten off or not. after a minute he became pretty convinced that the passengers were still on the plane. the crowd around him appeared to be waiting for people as well. sure enough, the doors open and people started streaming off. he'd been there almost five minutes now. perfect timing, he thought. now it was just a matter of picking her out. he roughly knew what dimensions she was, height-wise, hair-wise. how hard could it be? after what seemed like an eternity of sizing people and realizing that septuagenarians were not what he was looking for, anciness set in really heavily. he was beginning to get really concerned. not really too concerned, maybe, but the suspense was getting to be absurd. someone practically perfectly matching her height and hair had already gotten off but walked on by. it was maddening. finally, in a pack of miscellaneous persons that all looked roughly the same to him, someone matching her description walked off the ramp leading from the plane. she looked puzzled, vaguely lost in the airport. she walked very slowly, and he stood where he was, roughly in the main walkway, possibly making an inconvenience of himself. they stared at each other, trying to figure out if he was he and she was she and they were sufficiently sure and she came up to him and dropped her bag and they hugged each other. she was finally here, he thought. i wonder what the heck she's thinking. boy, i hope she likes what she sees. he practically forgot that he had to do the same thing in reverse; being so caught up in worrying about what she thought about him, he almost forgot to form an opinion about her. they went down to baggage to claim her other bag and hurried out to catch the bus back, which got there only two minutes after they got to the bus area. they headed for the back of the bus after they got on. he was still trying to figure her out, trying to convince himself that this was the girl he thought she was. she didn't look quite like he expected; but he really had no preconceived notion to go on. he'd been forced to make up a generic model of what she might look like for lack of knowledge. he spent so much time reconciling that he finally knew what she looked like that he almost forgot to bother to actually think about what she looked like. as the bus got underway, they kept on talking. it was sort of awkward, because he didn't really know what to say and he was still uptight about what she was thinking. he was quickly catching on, though; she was, in fact, exactly what he'd hoped she'd be. at least, she fit the mold. he hadn't had exact notions, of course. but he still wasn't sure what she was thinking. he was acting shy. he was uncomfortable in the seat on the bus and fidgeted and still acted shy. his mind was made up that everything was right. he knew it in his heart. he wanted just to hold her hand now, to tell her that that's what he felt. but his timidness held him back. he wasn't ready. he didn't feel the timing. he kept staring at her hand on her leg, wanting just to reach out and grab it, to hold it and have it, but he wasn't sure how to. and he still didn't really know what she was thinking. they kept talking, he kept fidgeting and staring at her hands. he didn't know what to do. he wanted to do something. it seemed to him they'd already been on the bus for an hour. he only wanted to hold her hand right now and he couldn't even bring himself to that. he wanted a spark, a sign, he wanted a nudge any sort of aid he could get from her. so he kept figeting and staring at her hands, at her face, at her legs, watching her hand placement on her legs, wanting the left hand on her left leg free so his right hand could just reach over and grab it and hold it and have it but he still couldn't bring himself to do it so he kept figeting and staring and talking and fidgeting and staring and talking and staring and talking some more. a silence ensued. a short silence. he was going nuts but was somehow mildly relieved by the silence. after a moment she said something to him, while he stared down at his own hands. "whatcha thinkin'?" he paused. his mind cleared. he felt his nerve finally returning. "do you reeeaaaalllllyyy wanna know?" "yeeaahhhh." he reached his right hand to her left and grabbed it, held it, had it, finally, finally making a statement. he seemed to be blushing but it made no difference to him because he'd finally done it and there was his hand and her hand and they were together. he to this day doesn't remember the next few moments in very particular detail. all he knows is that after some hand fidgeting, some hand jockeying, a couple glances at each other, he was surprised to find that they were kissing, kissing on the bus. she'd said "kiss me on the bus" before. they both knew that that was an old song, even though they weren't sure who by. everything he'd hoped for seemed to come true for him during her visit. he became quite convinced that she was in fact everything he'd ever wanted from life, and he wasn't about to, and isn't about to, let her go for anything. now he knows what she looks like, what she sounds like, what she smells like, and he sees years and years ahead of them in tranquility. those years are but a vague image to him, though, and only time will tell what will come of the future. but he had a vague image before, and the reality of that image was good, very good. and he has nothing but an optimistic view of this vague future. he liked his future, what he could see. he liked it a whole lot. but he doesn't know what she sees in her future, their future. he can only speculate. with time that too will come into his, their focus. for now, in their present, all they can do is be young and free. their lives started anew, with new promises, new potential; they are the bastards of young, the sons and daughters of no one. "bastards of young". isn't that an old song? ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- \ O__ < "no outlet" _/ \_ by - crank the sunlight caressed her dark hair as he had done so many times, with wonder and amazement that someone such as her could exist, she's so perfect for him. sitting lithely on the grass with her legs to the side, she spoke to him, to his interior, but he wasn't listening to what she said as much as to the sounds she made. this is so much more than love, he thought to himself. i care about her more than i ever have anyone else in the world, and we'll be together always. i'll never let her go. she paused in her monologue then, and looked across the field to a small grove. she reached to her face and moved her finger lightly along her bottom lip, a habit of hers that usually meant she was deep in thought. he looked to the grass around him, pulled on a weed. looked at her briefly as she looked at her hands. the sunlight makes her hair reddish. it's very pretty. she becomes prettier every day i spend with her. she continued on with her words. he felt the rays of the sun pressing into the back of his dark green shirt and gently warming the back of his neck. the breeze felt wonderful. what more could he ever need besides days like this spent with her? before her, he'd never felt love, and he feared that without her, he never would again. she loves him, too, though. he could feel it. her cold blue eyes looked upwards to meet his, and snapped him back into reality from his reality. he not only heard, but listened to what she told him next and had been telling him for the past half hour: things need to change. he's not enough anymore. he's not making her happy, and she's going to do whatever it takes to make herself happy regardless as to the consequences. "i thought you loved me," he said to her. "i did," she answered back, unable to meet his eyes any longer. he quietly asked if she were breaking up with him, expecting but not receiving a negative answer. very surprised, he began to rattle off things she had said to him, empty promises she had made about lifelong commitment, their shared future together .. god, she doesn't even look upset for what she's doing to me! he watched as she rose from her seated position, grass blade imprints on her bare shins. she gathered up her books and her windbreaker, and cast a last glance at him. he couldn't meet her eyes. he couldn't raise his head. she turned and walked away, to the edge of the grass and through the parking lot, as he stared through tears at her receding form. she disappeared into a building across the way, without once looking back on him. he was once sitting in the grass, the warm sun at his back, not a speck of white in the bright blue sky. but now, a cloud drew over his sun, and for a lifetime his world became grey. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- "phat rhymes and dope thymes: old skool" by - dead cheese i was walkin' down da strip da other day / 'n i saw a _fine_ piece of meat comin' my way. / i said, "damn bitch. you lookin' good tonight." / she look at me all wack like she know i ain't right / and she said, "sheeeit homey, don't you know? / i ain't a bitch or a ho. / i keeps my chin up high, / my money on my mind, / 'n a hand in my pocket dat keeps me on mine." hell, yeah. awwww shit. / my mind is a pit. / i likes my condoms big 'though i know dey ain't fit. / dat's cuz i'm smooth, g. / i'm the place to be. / i treat a hooker right, / then i wax all night. / "wussup, sugar? i gots da key to your lock." / "you keep your key in your pantz, i'll keep my hand on my glock." / haha, yeah. / dey don't want a man. / dey wants a bitch wit' big hands. haha, yeah. i'm stuck in a rut. / i decides to give up. / i heads back to my crib at the end of the block. / i can't cross the street or i'll get beat by my pops. / i opens the door 'n i screamz, "oh no!" / cuz my momz is up 'n down wit' dat same damn ho. / i runs to my room / eats a bag of shrooms / i pulls down my pantz 'n my fruit of the looms. / i looks at my wonder / bigger den thunder / as i starts to plunder / my brotha'z room / i finds what i want / a blunt 'n a cunt / i stares at da bitch while i smacks my runt / i'z about to break time / bust open a lime / i rolls my eyez in my head puts mine on mine shit, yeah. word to all my homeys in da house! peace out to the brothaz 'n da sistaz dat wuz good to me 'n mine. awww yeah. peace out. - riboflava ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ____ ///\\|\ || Oo || "you think it's over now?" __\__/__ by - james hetfield / o \ | | T || it's just the beginning, you fool. nothing is ever over. we all have memories. we all remember what was. every single one of us carry around memories of our past loves, of our past breakups. this is just the start. today is april 30th. it's almost may. right in the middle of spring. but here in chicago, it's freezing outside. winds blow people around like they were leaves. this is no coincidence. one man's spring is another girl's winter. enough of the artistic bullshit. you know what you did. you held inside of your feelings for someone else for six months, not letting anyone else know what was growing inside of you. growing like a mold. it was destroying you. you had to do something about it. you had no choice. right? you haven't been listening to your tori amos cds, have you. you could have done something about it six months ago. it wouldn't have grown to be what it is today if you had worked it out six months ago. someone trusted you. someone trusted you to be honest with them. to let them know when things bothered you. you broke that trust. you took that trust and drop-kicked it. that is why you are the bad guy, hon. of course, you get away with it. we always do. but by breaking that trust, by not letting that someone else know what was going on when it could still have been managed out, you have scarred that other person. that other person will be walking around with quite a bit of baggage for a long, long time. she wasn't just a passing fling. almost two years isn't just a passing fling. and to not let her know what was going on, to let yourself get infatuated with someone else, you have emotionally destroyed her. sure, you can tell yourself you needed to do this. it was the only way. you can tell yourself that she brought it upon herself by being clingy. great. keep mind-fucking yourself to believe what your penis wants you to believe. that's the way of manhood, dearie. hopefully, someday, you will realize what you've done. you'll realize the pain you've caused to this other person. you've already begun to see it, but there is an entire other side of it you will never see. hopefully you'll understand that. and hopefully you won't be the same little cock and do the same thing to someone else. rationalize all you fucking want. just be thankful you have someone else's bosom to bury your face into, so you don't have to think about what you've done. what's that? she took things too seriously, you say? you didn't like someone clinging onto you, you say? wake up. infatuation has taken over your mind. there is little difference between your new fuck-toy and your past love. what's that? little precious makes you laugh? she talks about your favorite tv shows? she has wacky phrases of her own? she's just another package, one you haven't gotten to open yet. you're a five year old on christmas, just waiting for the next big present in the corner. what happens when you've unwrapped this present? will you move on to the next one? i loathe your logic. if i hadn't made the same mistakes, maybe it wouldn't be such a big deal to me. but i have. i've made them time and time again. but no more. i've realized what i was doing. i realized how much i've tortured my girlfriend's soul in the past, and i'm trying my damned best never to let it happen again. i won't let it. will you? learn from what you've done. take a look at the misery you've spawned. of course she still jokes around with you. she loves you, you moron. any little playful poke into her stomach by you gives her a little wishful hope that someday you'll change your mind. she's in a pathetic state. go ahead and deny it's not your fault. go ahead and say she shouldn't have loved you so much. go ahead and accuse her of caring too much. then think about what you want from your next acquisition. relationships get repetitive. people aren't as exciting as they used to be. sometimes you just want to get rid of the old ball and chain. and for what? to replace it for another. another you don't really know all that well. one that you haven't experienced. one that's shiny and new. but you don't know what's under the wax coating. have fun with your new present. and after a while, ask yourself "i wonder what happened to that hamster mom gave me when i was 11," and realize you tossed it in the blender. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- %^^^% |O o| ( ^ ) "i bet it would be really funny if" `0'\\ by - puck /(_)\ oh, and i mean if to the highest iffyness that the word itself can be taken because the event(s) encapsulated in the following lines may or may not have happened and the surgeon general himself has said that believing or not believing in the following event(s) may or may not be hazardous to your concept of self, your sense of identity, but anyway i bet it would be really funny if when god gave moses the ten commandments way up high on MOUNT SINAI, if during the speech he gave him assuming that a speech was given, and i feel justified in assuming just that, because just getting the car keys from my dad brings with it an hour speech, and hell, these were the ten commandments. but it would be really funny if when god gave moses the ten commandments way up high on MOUNT SINAI, if during the speech he stopped in the middle of one of his words and i don't mean stopping in the middle of an obvious word, like a compound word, like if he cut himself off in the middle of the word cupcake right after the cup part .. no, i mean if he cut himself off in the middle of a regular word, like laugh, like stopping between the g and the h, that's what i mean, (of course, assuming that that words cupcake and laugh were even used in this speech, assuming that the speech took place, assuming that this entire event took place) but it would be funny if when god gave moses the ten commandments if he stopped in the middle of a word of his big speech (like between the g and the h in laugh) and jus FLIPPED MOSES THE BIRD! t and then carried on like he didn't do anything at all. and i bet this would be funny because moses's face would probably look really surprised. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- #%#%@) @'_ _| (% o o|) "shine six/eight & the last musty smells" | > | by - eerie | - | |____| "_flammable_" "warning: intentional misuse by deliberately concentrating & inhaling the contents can be harmful or fatal. keep out of reach of children. material safety data sheet available." she heard all of our lies. stomach aches; her tears are dripping on the mattress. she tries to wipe it off. that sticky white liquid should do it, she thinks. "don't you dare complain when you start losing plastic body parts: crunched elbows, coaxial shoulders, fingers turning to ashes, ethereal skin, blisters & dead cells, all - falling apart, disembodied." sleeping brain wakes up from speed feed. eyes don't want to shut down anymore. "whatever you say," screams the poet as his face turns into a screech, "i know it's gonna be empty. i saw the rest of you & figured you deserved to keep your fucking blind fug-stinking mind shut, so at least you can stop being harmful." futile terror - they might try & praise some shy god - morphing into that piece of clay you can play with endlessly. everything you are now has been stolen from someone who's now dead buried & long forgotten - everyone's gonna be forgotten sooner or later, accepted as liars. high pitch sound is no cure anymore. i feel like i'd put this all in caps; but what purpose will it serve? too much gratuitous purity hurts - we need the truth to be hidden. "get some more into a blood drip." try & stay away from saturation. when you're into it, you can't describe it. "tomorrow might just as well be an illusion. & what about yesterday? this moment cannot be eternal. every zillionth of second we spend alive we do nothing but _losing_ & _dying_." can't remove those nails in my cranium - they're settled way too deep - & have no more head. i can't reach anything, yet this is going too fast. someone once told me that the lack of scruples from a robber comes from the fact that he's been robbed before. then, who was the first one to steal? & most of all, why in hell did he? never had any problem with that. maybe, unconsciously there's something i used to have that someone took without asking. i shivered hard; there was nothing better to do that day. bridge was always very busy. visceral bridge was even busier. ten seconds of wait, pressurizing, carved phallic plague. needful atrocities. ten thousand square miles of dead skin. the psychotropic ships leave the harbour for sub-mediterranean dimensions. respite, unrespected like the rest, but as we put it around here, who cares. hard solitude. failed metamorphosis. mustard-plaster waste. remains of plastic residues padlocked in their oblivion. cheap nyquil fucker. all pretentious can only be archaic & definitely extinguished as lamp-posts of faded innocence. pathetic matrix. nothing's in the freezer but candy shrapnels. i'm eating them for there's nothing else to eat, plus: there's no other place to stay. everything else died. i hope my soul can freeze & live eternally until something comes & wakes me up. "bastard!" like this. "what the fuck are ya' doin' here?" "i wish i could be like you." "shut up, dicksucker!" slap! "i don't care if you come here & fuck around. but why d'you have to steal our fucking stuff all the time? yer lucky t'be a kid, 'cuz i'd have shot yer baby face down 'fore you could even say a moth'fuckin' word." alright, better act like a kid then. "i need the stuff, ian .. i really d - " "get it somewhere else, kid, we're not santa claus." "i don't believe in santa anymore, man." "could've figured that out." he sits down on a chair, less annoyed. like he understands. like there's no difference between a junkie & a child. "no money, no candy, kid." like a sentence would fix everything. "why, thank you. now that really does help." he sighs. his lack of aggressiveness is no surprise. he seems to be unwillingly kind to a certain category of people, namely little boys. sucks when you're a bodyguard. so like he wants to get rid of me, he gives me some stuff. then he goes away - weakness kills. i go away too & sell it all to some stupid junkie i barely know. like, "hey man, i guess you'd want some?" started to rain; ran home; streets emptied themselves in minutes. rained for three days. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ______ | _ _| ( o o|) "asking for it" | > | by - black francis | o | |____| [black francis (to kurgan@48)]: HAHAHA. COLLECTIVE SOUL!@? [black francis (to snapper@613)]: oh dear. [black francis (to ferrari@549)]: boy, you're dumb. [black francis (to monster@564)]: ARGH HOLY FUCK IT'S A MONSTER. [black francis (to wonder woman@244)]: ARE YOU REALLY WONDER WOMAN??? [black francis (to wonder woman@244)]: YOU CAN LASSO ME ANYTIME, BABY. [black francis (to sawdust@138)]: ARE YOU REALLY SAWDUST??? [black francis (to teapot@564)]: ARE YOU REALLY SHORT AND STOUT??? [black francis (to wild@225)]: holy crap, you're wacky. [black francis (to ren@38)]: WHERE IS STIMPY? HAHA. GET IT??? [black francis (to nuts@42)]: to you. [black francis (to nuts@42)]: are you in any way wacky? [black francis (to pervert pirate@262)]: gives a whole new meaning to the term "booty", i guess. [black francis (to g710@64)]: what the hell is wrong with you? [black francis (to mr pink@244)]: "but i don't want to be mr. pink." [black francis (to lolli-pop@244)]: "can i lick you?" [black francis (to water babee@549)]: HOLY CRAP. YOU SPELLED BABY WRONG. [black francis (to doornob@225)]: HOLY CRAP. YOU SPELLED DOOR KNOB WRONG. [black francis (to short dog@601)]: ARE YOU REALLY SHORT??? [black francis (to death@244)]: that's an original one. [black francis (to wacco@2)]: AS IN WACO, TEXAS??? [black francis (to yacco@2)]: ARE YOU AND WACCO FRIENDS? [black francis (to hurricanes@221)]: i have nothing amusing to say in reference to your handle. [black francis (to mike mayo@208)]: YOU WANT SOME KETCHUP WITH THAT??? HUH, ASSHOLE??? [black francis (to cracker jack@33)]: WHERE'S MY FREE PRIZE, JERK OFF?!?? [black francis (to pseudepigrapha@33)]: uh. [black francis (to senator sinister@33)]: ARE YOU RUNNING AGAINST MAYOR PISSED-OFF NEXT YEAR? [black francis (to black@614)]: i really really hate you. [black francis (to black@614)]: I HOPE YOU DIE SOON. [black francis (to black@614)]: STUPID BASTARD. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- _________ | whoops | | is | | behind| "nowhere to go but up? who says we're moving?" | this | by - whoops | wall.| |_________| you hear it whispered in dark rooms, shadowy figures in corners making vague gestures, all so confusing. it's sung from hilltops in bad remakes of even worse originals. idiots who won't let go of a decade from long ago sing about it and paint it on their multicolored shirts. high school students pretend they understand it, college freaks think the high school freaks were all wrong and only they really know about it, everyone else just laughs at the childish attempts of the youngins and prides themself on their vast amount of experience with it. what is it? it's this .. love crap. we spend most of our young life chasing after it in its various forms - give me love, give me rock and roll, give me sex and affection. we want caring, affection, tenderness, fucking, sex, love .. what do we really want? do we really know? does it really matter? probably, some day, as we're walking out in traffic and see a large bus heading our way. perhaps then, the notion will suddenly announce its position in our head, and we will shout out "i get it, it's .. !" only to be crushed by the bus and photographed in our last moment of triumph by the japanese tourists on it. maybe when we're 80, lying in a bed, looking at our family staring down at us as we breathe our last breath, we try to get out "i understand .. " but all they can say is "grandma's having a conniption fit" and look away to avoid the grotesqueness of it all. l for the lampreys who swim around in circles and hiss threateningly at us on our trip to seaworld when we never really got along with each other anyway, o for the orangutans who scratch themselves as we take pictures of them on our honeymoon together after having been locked in a hotel room with you for 24 hours when the power went out and we couldn't get down from the 42nd floor, v for the vampires who bite each others necks as we carefully avoid touching each other in the smelly theatre where your feet stick to the popcorn-and-cum infested floor, e for everything else. fuck it all, you know. it doesn't matter anyway. we pursue it, sometimes we find it, sometimes we hold on to it, sometimes we screw it up, and usually we lose it because we're motherfuckers. but we're always looking for it; conscious of it or not, we're always looking around, trying to find it in its various forms, and if we can't get it maybe for a while we'll settle for one or two of its substitutes - sex, affection, care, vodka, or fingerbanging mother theresa. so we find it, by accident. we tripped while walking along on the street and love stared us in the face. now, we're scared. what the hell? somebody loves me? i love somebody? that means i have to like, think about someone besides myself for a change. in the other 'incarnations' of love, we still can be the selfish beings that humans inherently are. sex is pure self-pleasure, of course. caring for someone? they care for us back. they give us warez. pure self service. being affectionate? maybe we'll get sex. then that pleasure. yay. but love comes along and opens a big can of whoop-ass on us. we get scared. would you believe .. honest to god, it's not easy! we may have stepped in it by accident, but fuckitall if we're not stuck in it now. love is pressure - pressure to communicate, pressure to be there for someone whenever they need them. pressure to be a bad weather friend. "if love isn't forever, it's not the weather .. " love is tough shit, guys. it can hurt. makes you bleed. also makes you laugh. stick with it, though - in the end, it's all that really matters to anyone. oh, gross! how disgustingly hedonistic and un-angsty. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- _____ ///\\\\ | O.O | "realize" | ^__^| by - shadow tao __\ /__ the little room that connected the gym with the locker room was dark and old. the brown fibreboard doors between the cache of various balls and the walkway were chipping and peeling. the lock on the doors was old and rusty. the face kind of ground against a hidden force when you spun it. there, near a decrepit old pay phone, lurked a large boy, standing a good half-foot taller than children his age. there, near the relative shadow of the doors, he waited for his friends. nathan chigilack had challenged one of the stronger boys in the class, and as a result, was going to get hurt. he wanted to be there for the fight, but he couldn't go without greg or mark. he glanced down at the edge of the dirty rug near the door. the grey chalk of the school driveway was covering it, draping across it like a sooty paint. out of reaction, he inhaled, breathing in the dusty odor of the passageway. it smelled like an old closet. or a rock quarry. dirty and overused. he heard some kids voices, and his ears pricked up. his eyes scanned the gym wall, finding third graders on their way to lunch. back to looking at the carpet. just as his eyes fell to the dark red rug, mark ran around the corner, and into the hallway. "greg's coming, he had to read something for mrs. berken." "really? eh. berk caught him with that cheese in his desk, i guess." " .. " "it makes a good eraser." "if you keep it in your desk long enough." "but it's really greasy. your paper gets all messy." "well, it bounces, it's hard. you know. you can throw it at girls, or berk, or whatever." "i had some .. " greg rounded the corner in his compact, stomping stride. "berk caught your cheese stash, huh?" "yeah. she said if i wasn't going to eat it, i should give it back to the snack lady." "well, that snack lady ain't gonna pass out much cheese from now on. i've got at _least_ 10 pieces in my box." "yeah. let's hurry, jim. i bet carl's already started picking on nathan, and i don't want to miss *this*." the group burst through the door, running through the school parking lot, onto the playground. the three boys, running in a staggered 'v', cut through a pack of girls and the special ed's on their way. the road was relatively clear, and the park playground was already starting to get crowded. mark, being the dominant of the three, headed for the giant wooden rope gym. greg followed him, grabbing hold of one of the rough, fibrous red ropes that were tied all around it. as greg swung up towards the playground-ward edge, where mark was, jim slowly made his way behind his friends, being a little cautious, due to his size. the pre-fight had already begun. "what the fuck do you think you are?" "i think i'm better than a dumb bully who wants to push me around." nathan was trying his best to stand up to carl. "dumb bully, huh?" "stop it or i'll tell." nathan's front had cracked. carl looked around, slowly, his eyes meeting each member of his own group. "tell who? mr.grant? hahahaha!" carl wasn't wasting time. the crowd laughed quietly. everyone knew what was next. "mr. grant can't even hear his car horn, so he *ain't* gonna hear you scream." nathan was doomed. the crowd inched closer, waiting for the last words to be said. violence was in the air. it hung in the air like an electric charge, keeping everyone away, but energizing the crowd with a bloodthirsty energy. "shut the fuck up, you stupid spic." unexpected. the silence blasted through everyone like a shockwave. the knowledge of what would happen next caromed from mind to little mind. this was going to be a show. a fight to remember. of all the things to say, that was not the one thing carl needed to hear, especially given his current state. carl was the strongest boy in the class. he was part-hispanic and had visible muscles where the rest of them had none. he was also filled with enough rage and hate at so many things that who he was beating up didn't really matter to him. just how much they screamed. he liked causing suffering. he had so much to give. nathan was *just* about to find that out. carl jabbed to the left as a feign to throw nathan off guard, and it worked. nathan turned to his left to block the feign from carl, only to open himself up to a massive right hook, square in the face. nathan staggered backwards across the cement, falling in a small pool of his own blood and amazement. nathan, his nose broken and spraying, began to cry and flinch at carl's advance across the cement .. mr. grant seemed so far away. the sun stared down at them. carl picked nathan's negligible weight up by the back of his shirt and shoved him at the water fountain. nathan stumbled and fell, landing only feet away. carl was angry and charged with the malice of victory, but that only encouraged the crowd. nathan was bawling with fear, crying out in hopes of someone helping him. his eyes looked so pleading. god knows with what emotion they met in the other kids. the children were like a stone wall. "you wanna wash that blood off, you fuckin' turd?" " .. " nathan sobbed as he held his nose. the dripping red onto his shirt had grown to cover his chest. "huh?" the crowd visibly leaned forward to see the victor. carl picked nathan up by the back of his head, palming it like a ball. his hands were tensed and grasping, nathan's hair jutted out from every fingerhold. carl had turned his side to nathan, as nathan was lunging out in fear at carl, hoping to wound him for just one moment. nathan's fear was incredible; he kicked and punched, wanting so desperately to run away. carl had won, though. nothing nathan could do to stop that _now_. carl scanned his eyes across the crowd, challenging his enemies with his dominance; building his own confidence by meeting his own packs hungry eyes. he had asserted himself as the lead dog of the class, and it was acknowledged by this, and this alone. nathan's cacophonous screaming had pitched into madly desperate pleas for mercy. he had to beg. he had to plead for mercy. but you can't ask for something that just isn't there. with a mighty sweep, carl brought nathan's mouth down on the rim of the fountain. a sickening crunch of teeth and bone and gum rang out. blood poured down onto the cement, spilling everywhere around the two, like a fat, crimson spider. carl let go of nathan's head, as nathan began to scream like no sound ever heard by those children's ears. his mouth awash in huge red gushes of blood, nathan's body curled up into a little ball. his legs jerking and twisting, nathan had been reduced to a spasming, harmless, wailing nothing. that wasn't enough. not *nearly*. the other boys, wanting to show allegiance, swarmed down off the jungle of the playground, like wolves waiting for the prey to fall. snarling punches and kicks rained down on chigilack from every direction, but help was on it's way. all jim could do was stare. mr. grant had heard the scream. with his loping gait, mr. grant rounded the edge of the park's tennis courts to see what had happened to chigilack. the boys, so eager on making status for themselves, scattered like roaches. the remainder of the children, perched in the playground equipment, began to run. scattering every which way, they looked for a place to hide; a place to prevent them from being blamed. the hawks of war had scattered, and all that was left was the twitching body of the loser. and him. the wolves had become roaches. and the war-hawks; scattered crows. his mind hadn't responded when he saw the teacher round the corner. as fearsome as mr. grant's anger was, all he could do was stare at the broken nathan. there had been so many fights that year. so much fear. jim didn't really know why, but the felt like the victim. someone had stolen something away from him, and there wasn't a thing he could do about it. he felt violated and alone, even if didn't know what those things were. all you could do was try to survive. and all you could do is hope. broken nathan. broken and screaming. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- "the original evil sugar - condiments; chapter 1000" by - murmur [with random lines from mogel & jamesy & kojak] he refuses to admit "yeah i did it but i stopped." contorted lad! didn't he smell the fire? mmmm, pecans. how many unruly rebels were going to be abused before they found that giddy enjoyment in their lint: the fruitcake supreme chisel. hoe on the right, spade on the left, no wonder the tomatoes stagnate, you filthy cur. the pathological pedophile from dixon testified before the jury of graph-ooooo-maniacs! only to be sentenced to shrubbery. so DROP YOUR TROUSERS, FLAUBERT! expose the filthy and wholesome goodnesslessness. john would go on to play superior obfuscate on dimple, and move directly to his transfer phase. shazam! he put two blood down on koko, one on smudge the ignored, and one on igo the hungry, all the while acquiring an igloo for his travels. john, you see, john was down in it. eating his vegetarian sausage, john would spit repeatedly into the clam dip. of course, sam, this particular clam, was too much of a dip to do or say too much about it, and hell, he was a fucking clam, so it's not like he could have said anything, and he was dead, so it PROBABLY DIDN'T MATTER A WHOLE HELL OF A LOT, YOU MISERABLE STREET URCHINS. "who am i, and why am i here, and free marbles?" he shouted, unconvincingly, erstwhile covered in vomit. it was all a dream, then he creamed, and was bought out by some larger corporation. the split pea soup enveloped it better than ezra in its own lovely green moistness, a lovely green moistness that too enveloped the theologians with love, and great sexual thoughts, although it's hard to say whether they were icelandic radishes, or jim's. so fuck all that, we've gotta get on with these, sam. sam? SAM$#?!?# take this love handle and shove it deep, until it strikes oil, then sell it to texaco. moral: hold my hand, let her cry, i only wanna be with you. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- __/\__ \ Oo / "mistaken" /_/\_\ by - girlie17 HE WAS HOT MAYBE NOT ON SECOND THOUGHT .. BUT I WAS CAUGHT WHAT'S DONE IS DONE IT WAS FUN JUST ANOTHER PUN - I WAS SCREWED EVENTS MISCONSTRUED HE SAID THIS I SAID THAT I WAS BLAZED CONFUSED & DAZED QUESTIONS RAISED? SHORT REPLY I WONDERED WHY REGRET WAS HIGH THAT NIGHT GONE BY! ____ ___| |_ _ ___| | _______ | | | | | | | | | | ----------------------------- | | | | | | ----------------------------- ----------------------------- | | | | | | ----------------------------- | | | | | | | | | | | | |_____| |_____| |___ _ please direct all dto correspondence towards - doomed@voicenet.com call that stupid place - doomed to obscurity's bbs system - 215-985-0462 the dto world wide waste homepage - http://wwti.iway.net/dto to get on the dto mailing list - send mail to doomed@voicenet.com with the body of the message saying "subscribe dto". (c) copyright 1996 doomed to obscurity productions - all rights reserved. "better living through sheer idiocy & a whole lot of free time." ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------------------------