__________________________________________________ / / / The Eternity Articles / / / / Act I, Scene iii -- May 1995 / /_________________________________________________/ \ \ \ Who am I?: Sanjay Singh \ \ eternity@cyberspace.org \ \_________________________________________________\ "The impulse to perfection cannot exist where the definition of perfection is the arbitrary decision of authority. That which is born in loneliness and from the heart cannot be defended against the judgment of a committee of sycophants. The volatile essences which make literature cannot survive the cliches of a long series of story conferences." [Raymond Chandler] What possessed me to make duality a topic? I have finals to write, and a job to hunt for, but still I pick the tallest mountain to climb. Why me? I think I'll just stretch this out to choices and decisions. It may be a little more general, but at least now I have a fighting chance of getting more than 3 pages out to you. By the way, that little arrow thing up there has to go, so if anyone has a better header for this, feel free to let me know. (that wasn't supposed to rhyme, it just worked out that way) "I guess I'm just sick of waiting for the world to change for me, that's more or less what my life's been up until now. That's just not going to happen, so I've decided to change it myself. Hope it works." [me] Finally, in the past two weeks five people have subscribed, and I thank all five of them for giving me a chance, and reading what I have to say, but it also seems like no one has actually read this yet. Don't get me wrong, I'm flattered, and grateful, but you wouldn't buy a car that you haven't seen, hell, you wouldn't even subscribe to a magazine that you've never read just because of a little paragraph describing what it is. Who knows, that paragraph description I wrote for John Labovitz's list could be the best thing that I ever wrote, or will write. I don't want to lose any of the few readers that I might have, but there's no point in me mailing this to you every month if it just gets deleted once you read the first paragraph. Maybe that's what this entire zine is about. Maybe the only thing I really have to say is that 'you can do whatever you want to', 'you can believe what you want to', 'you don't need a god, you don't need a king, you don't need a politician to tell you what to do, because you can decide for yourself.' All I know is that everyone out there is trying to secure a future for our generation, most people take the easy way out and try to save the planet, personally, I'd rather save the people. Don't worry, I hate messages, and the last thing that I'd want to do is to beat someone over the head with one (which actually I'm doing here) for the most part this was done as a strange form of catharsis for me, a chance to unload the last of my baggage on the rest of the world. I'll get off my soapbox now, and wait and see what happens. Sucker beware, buyer be warned. I think I just realized exactly what Eric Bogosian was saying in his speech at the end of Talk Radio, and it's kind of a scary thought (if you don't know the speech you can find it in the quote list, better yet, watch the movie). For the record: I'm not trying to bite the hand that feeds me, I just want to know where it's been. The Greatest Dualist Of Them All... =================================== "The first fall was from non-duality into duality. Up and down. This and that. The subjective and the objective. Good and Evil. Order and Chaos." [Grant Morrison] Hi, my name is Sanjay and I'd like to take a moment to tell you a little bit about myself... If anyone's still reading this, then we can start getting to the good stuff. I've realized that over the past couple of years, that I am not just myself. We all have more than one side to our personalities, but I think with me it goes a little further. You might have noticed how I jump from topic to topic, and fairly often I contradict myself almost immediately. So am I a hypocrite? I don't think so. I'm going to blame this on my two personalities. And I thought that I'd take a moment to introduce you to my two halves... (I'm assuming that for now, at least, it's only two) "I'm very vulnerable, but only when I really let people get near me. I build up a big defence. It happens automatically. I can be very over-emotional and that can be a very destructive trait in me." [Freddie Mercury] The "real" me: sensitive, emotional, curious, creative, loyal, paranoid and pensive. This is the me that my friends see. Probably because once they see the other side, they're not my friends for much longer. This is who I want to be, this is the guy that never turned down a friend when he was asked for a favour. This is who I am when I start to write, but once I get on a roll, and the blood starts flowing from my fingers to the keyboard, then the dark side takes over. "Slowly it seeps from my severed veins. / Its passing leaving my body a cold, darkened shell. / My essence, my being trapped within its liquid form. / Silently it expands, enveloping the gleaming tiles. // You reel from the horror, yet you are drawn closer. / Your trembling flesh touches its red warmth. / A chill quickly comes and clings to your soul. / Its life trickles over your lips... your teeth... it fills you. / And a smile overtakes you... and claims you as its own." [???] My "dark side": uncaring, cold, calculative, manipulative, competitive, untrusting, vindictive and reflexive. This is the side of me that I fight to keep down a lot of the time. Personally I don't like this person. When I see this face staring back at me in the mirror, I just want to spit at the reflection. This is the guy who wades through people as if they were obstacles. This is the guy that when he gets pushed, pushes back with all of the force in his body, and damn the consequences. This is what happens to me at parties and at bars, I just stand there watching the people. Snarling, looking down at them. I have no idea why, that's just the way it works (oh, and always with my back to a wall). This is what growing up bitter and cynical has caused. Now if I could only learn how to keep him under control. I want everyone to be happy, I want a future, I'm stupid enough to believe that there is some glimmer of hope for humanity. But then I sit there, on the roof of my shed, staring out at the cars driving past the house and realize that we can't be happy. There is no future. I'm still stupid, but there's no hope at all. Why don't I just give up? What's the point in carrying on? I've had my ups, and this is living proof that I've had my downs. I've felt euphoria, and I've felt pain. I can sit here all day and curse the darkness within, but the problem is that I need it. Through the dark half, I've lived. The problem is that it's also killed me. I suppose that all that's left to say is to clarify this real me / dark side thing. I could have called them what I do call them, but the names are actually irrelevant, and besides they're part of some larger inside joke, which I don't think anyone else would get, so that's what I called them. I am both, I suppose that the 'real me' would be a combination of the two, but I'd rather see myself as the former, so the name stuck there. As for the dark side, well, maybe I had a reason for choosing that at the time that I wrote this piece, but I can't remember what it was. Wisdom From Woody ================= "More than any other time in history, humanity faces a crossroads. One path leads to despair and utter hopelessness. The other, to total extinction. Let us pray we have the wisdom to choose correctly." [Woody Allen] I just realized that Woody Allen has hit my quote list twice. This frightens me to no end, but he's there, so I guess we have to let him enjoy his moment. It's 10:20pm and I can't study anymore. I just realized that I failed calculus last term over a stupid calculation error [Update: 2 days later, I passed calc this time, might have failed another exam though... just in case you cared]. All I needed was a couple of extra marks, and I pooched them. Great. Well, I'll try to find a topic to follow now. I'm going to try something a little different now, I'm going to write based on the quote, what I normally do is just write an article, and then try to find a quote that fits it, but I can't think of anything original to say now, so I'll just see where this takes us. According to Mr. Allen (that just doesn't sound right) we have two paths to choose from. Actually this could be true. As we speak science is trying to find ways to make our lives 'better.' Pills that you can take that will get rid of all the bad cholesterol in your blood, little electronic gizmos that flex your muscles for you, so you can sit on the couch, watch tv, and end up looking like Arnold. This entire Information Superhighway garbage that the media keeps on feeding to us, where if we're not on the bandwagon we'll be caught under the wheels. Technology is taking us to places that our parents could never have even dreamed of. Everyone seems to have either a beeper or a cellular phone. A friend of mine had to actually threaten the guy behind us in a movie theatre because he kept getting calls on it. Is this what we really want? Obviously I can't speak for everyone here, but personally, I like the fact that someone has to make an effort to get a hold of me. If someone wants to talk to me and I'm not in then they have to leave a message on my answering machine. If you read this article and want to tell me what an idiot I am (this is not an invitation) then you have to send email to me, and wait for me to reply (no I don't waste my life away in front of a terminal, just on nights when a cs assignment is due). I know that you don't have to answer the cel phone if someone calls you, but why spend the $20 a month if you're just going to leave it sitting on the shelf. I'm going to call this path the one to total extinction. Just because, maybe we are getting to lazy. This is not necessarily a bad thing, now we can be healthy and still eat a bag of Doritos for dinner... it's a dream come true. So what's with the despair and hopelessness? What's that path. I guess for this to be a true crossroads I need to stick with the same split decision. So technology it is. So what we either destroy ourselves with it, or we can make our lives hell without it. This pretty much makes sense to me. Where would I be without my trusty computer? Where would I be without my kettle, granted that's not a miracle of modern science, but I need my cup (or 2) of tea (read: caffeine) every morning or else nothing happens. Actually, I think this is the first time I've actually written anything for this without caffeine surging through my veins, hopefully it won't show, but I digress. Now I'm stuck at some crossroads of my own. I really don't like where I'm taking you with this article. I don't like the direction, and I have no idea why I'm trying to waste your time with something as 'fluffy' as this. Out of respect, I think I'll end this one right now. Mixed Emotions ============== "I found this on my hard drive last week, it kind of relates to duality, so I'll toss it in. I think I wrote this last year sometime, but for the most part, some of it is still true." [still me] Mixed emotions. What a great concept. The obvious question to those who have not be devastated by this truly remarkable gift is 'how can someone be feeling two completely opposite things at the same time?' I'll even go one step further... feeling two opposites at the same time over the same subject. Okay, so this might not be anything new, but that doesn't make it any easier to deal with. She is getting on with her life. That's the root of the problem. She's happy, and I'm just ecstatic that she's happy. The problem is that she is with someone else. Not you, some guy that you only know by a name. She told you that he's good to her, and at least she has a chance of finding the happiness that you promised to her, but you just ran out of time before you could give it to her. She said she was happy, and you have to believe her, she may have lost her trust in you, but you never gave up faith in her. You'd sooner destroy someone else for even thinking something bad about her than consider that it's true. And if she is happy then you have to be happy for her, whether or not she is happy with you or someone else. Damn, I miss her. I really wish that emotions were quantitative. That might make everything a little bit cleaner. Then you can compare the good with the bad, and then see who comes out on top. Easy. Wrong, it doesn't work that way. You can't measure how much the hurt just gnaws at your gut. You can't measure how much the happiness just forces a smile to your face. You just can't. Once you would've said that as long as she was happy then you'd be happy, and happy for her. But she's happy and you've broken your word again. Nice work kid. Gen X or Gen $? =============== "I've got clowns to the left of me / Jokers to the right / Here I am / Stuck in the middle with you" [Steelers Wheel] Prince started it all by calling himself whatever that symbol thing is, so if he can be named after a symbol, why can't we take it one step further and name an entire generation after a symbol? What if we weren't generation X? I think that, technically, it applies to people who are between 25 and 30 now, but thanks to MuchMusic, MTV and whoever else is speaking for us these day we got it tacked onto ourselves too. But, if we're not generation X, then what are we? I propose a new generation. This should just about cover anyone too young for gen X, but old enough to drive by now. From now on, we will be Generation $. We are the children of the '80's. The infamous ME decade. As children we were handed whatever we wanted and that wonderful convenience has crossed over to us now. Tell me this, who's more likely to complain about 'the man' or 'the system'? Is it the 20 year old in college who's had everything handed to him in life, whose 'mommy' and 'daddy' are paying for his education, drinking, car, etc... or is it some poor 20 year old, who actually had to fight the same 'man' and 'system' and worked and struggled just so he could improve his life, just so he could be on the same level as our spoonfed hero? Life or Death ============= "Days of my life I'd like to forget: The day the doctors told me I was sick. The day I had to tell my friends I was ill. The day my hair fell out. The first day after my surgery. They're also the days I'll always remember." [Kate Sawford] "I thought was a funny title." [Kurt Cobain] Here's a story of a 13 year old girl, and a story about a 27 year old man. The girl has Ewing's Sarcoma (a rare form of cancer). The guy had everything: money, fame, maybe even a Godlike status. She was diagnosed with the cancer in March, 1993, he shot himself in the head with a 12 gauge in April, 1994. She fought, he lost. She's Kate Sawford, he was Kurt Cobain. What inspired this little departure from the topic? Well, it's the one year anniversary of Cobain's death, and the radio is doing a special on it, I read an article about Kate in the newspaper last week. It's just strange to see two lives wrought with pain, but taking two completely opposite directions. Five years ago a friend told me that we can't allow death to be an option. It's just one of those decisions that we can't turn back from. You can't win the game if you don't play. Was she right? I don't know. Another friend of mine held his girlfriend in his arms as she died after being clipped one night by a drunk driver, and I'm not even sure if he's still alive anymore. Yes he felt guilty, we all did. Yes he felt pain, he lost the only thing that mattered to him in life (literally). The last time I talked to him was 3 years after she died, and the wounds were as fresh then as they were on that night. Yet he lived with the pain. Was he right? Last month I was ranting about euthanasia, does this mean that I was wrong? I set out looking for answers, and all I'm left with is more questions. I don't know if I'd have the courage to kill myself, but for me at least that's not an option, and so the thought isn't always floating around in the back of my head. But what about the people that do? For some reason Cobain has grown to an almost biblical status since he's killed himself. How many people killed themselves after he did because he was gone? Kate had the courage to live, Kurt had the courage to die. Who was right? Is there a right choice? All I know is that I have a dizzying amount of respect for her, while I've barely noticed his absence. Yo Kurt ======= Every once in a while, I come across something that just stops me dead in my tracks. I read something, and for a moment realize that someone else thinks the same way that I do. Someone else feels the same way that I do. For the briefest of moments I get this ray of clarity, and things make sense. For just a fraction of a second I am not alone. This is one of those things. I'm posting it because last week I was pummelled from all sides because it was the anniversary of Kurt Cobain killing himself. I found this on a newsgroup way back in February, and kept it because it was perfect. So here it is, in its full glory. by Robert W. F. Clark [anon2c9e@nyx10.cs.du.edu] I was thinking about Kurt Cobain today. I didn't want to do that. It wasn't something I went out of my way to do. I was just trying to get home. I tried to catch a bus, made a pathetic attempt to catch a bus home, and I thought I had caught a bus home. I just wanted to go home. That's all I wanted. As the bus rolled off, and I thought I was going home, a Nirvana tune started -- 'I never lost control' I heard. I heard a voice, and of course that voice brought the one thought that it could. It brought the thought 'you're dead.' I thought suicide. I thought shotgun. I remembered the day a friend came over and told me 'Kurt Cobain killed himself.' I never liked Nirvana. The one tune that would get me to turn up the radio was 'Lithium' and all the others got the radio shut off entirely. 'Commercial crap' I'd think and ridicule it in vague attempts at what seemed to be cool -- yeah, I'm too cool to dig this fake shit, this fake sadness and this pre-packaged depression. And I'd slam it, and make fun of Kurt, and join together with other smug, sardonic, worthless bastards to slam something I'd never even really listened to. Sad thing is I'll never really get a fresh listen to any of this stuff -- now, whenever I hear a Nirvana tune I'll think suicideshotgundead. and I hear 'em a lot, now that he's dead. It sure sells records, old daddy death. Since after all now that he's blown his head off he's automatically cool with the same crowd that slammed him when he was alive. Hey, after all, nothing's cooler to pussies in black than a self-snuff -- someone with the guts actually to do what they claim they want to do. After all, after all afterallafterall death is cool, right? These are fucking people who have never seen death. They've never seen a friend never able to lift a fucking finger again, stuck in a wheelchair like a mortuary barcalounger, you'll be in this until you're in a box buddy. These are people who have never stopped over to a friend's house for a visit before the school year began, and next heard news of him in a coma, near-dead, and hey buddy, remember your feet? They're gone. Here's these plastic things. These are your _new_ feet. These are people who have never been a quadriplegic buddy already fucked enough, riding in the passenger's seat when out of nowhere comes a drunk driver, and totally paralyzed gets to watch the crash, still conscious with a fractured skull, gets to watch his wife, his nurse, his fucking entire family wrapped up in one beautiful woman, gets to watch helplessly as she coughs up her last breath, while you, you, worthless fucking cripple, nothing nowhere can't even wipe your own ass cripple, worthless fractured-skull quadriplegic motherfucker, watch your life die in front of you. Hey, buddy, hey, my friend. Damn it, Ray, you don't get any credits rolling for you. You get to limp along, and I've heard you tell me this, you can't even lift the gun to blow your head off, and that's what you want. You've told me that. No wonder you drink and drink and drink -- god didn't give a shit that you were a fucking brilliant mind, that you were a mathematician, hey, to god, you're a fucking slab of meat. Die. Jesus doesn't give a shit. Jesus had enough with this world, so fuck you. Jesus says fuck your crippled ass, and I say fuck jesus. Fuck god. What kind of fucking god does this? These are poseurs. These people play at death. These people play at death as yuppies play at aristocracy as the rest of the world dies. Yeah, Kurt, you died for these peoples' sins. You died for these so-seattle-cool people, you died for all the other junkies, you died for my pretentious ass. And every time from now on I ever see your face I see the blood, see you splattered against a wall. I see you on MTV doing your rockstar shtick, and I suddenly look at your face as you sing, and what do I see but pain -- the pain it cost you just to sing. And hey, you were adored by millions. Millions of poseurs, each with a buck, millions of bucks. And you were despised by millions of poseurs, and I was one of them. But not all the adoration, the antidepressants, the love, the validation, the gold records, absolutely fucking nothing could save you, could it? 'I never lost control.' And I see you in that video, as I sat in the bus, thinking about you, in a way I haven't -- I never dealt with this -- I made smug cynical comments, and jokes, and pretended that it didn't goddamn hurt, that it wasn't relevant, that you hadn't taken a little piece of me with you. Hey, even those of us who hated you expected you to be around a little while to hate. So I have no right no mourn you. I have no right to consider this a personal loss. Another Nirvana tune comes on and another. I can't deal with this. Suddenly even in the bus even in public I think -- you poor bastard. You never. You never had a chance. You got a free ticket to the loser's club, the suicide hotel, instant cool, and instant vampirization. And you knew it, I can see that now. And oddly, you, Kurt, maybe a year or two older than I am, by doing what you did, you became the voice of a generation -- all of us fucked just like you. But some of us have to keep living, you see. Some of us can't _lift_ the gun. Some of us can't mourn and get on with it. Some of us will hear your fucking tunes and think suicideshotgundeath for the rest of our lives. Yeah, other beautiful people died. Janis Joplin. Other beautiful people crashed and burned. Marilyn Monroe. Other beautiful people couldn't deal. Jimi Hendrix. Other geniuses gave life a miss, eventually. Try Turing. Other icons bit it. Our buddy Sid. But you were the first to state the truth so fucking obviously -- you said 'I hate myself and want to die' and people thought you had a sense of irony. The truth was you hated yourself and wanted to die. And you did. You solved all your problems at once, tied them up in a single knot and blasted it the fuck apart with a shotgun. Did you have to be so obvious? I knew the truth. Did you have to tell it to everyone in such simple Dr. Seuss terms as blamblamblam? Well, you got your rest, buddy Kurt. You proved you weren't a fake. You took yourself out. You did it. You said it and then you did it -- this commands respect. You made it where you wanted to go. But motherfucker, just know, wherever the fuck you are, wherever the nowhere fucker you went -- know, dude. You took some of us with you. As Much Fun As Getting Your Teeth Pulled ======================================== "When the bluebird's singing on your window pane / And the sun shines bright, all day through / Don't forget boy / Look over your shoulder / 'Cause there's always someone coming after you." [Humble & Fred] by Paul Sheen [ThePeach@cyberspace.org] Ever feel like something is a total conspiracy? Ever felt like something is out of your hands and there was nothing you could do about it? Well that's how I feel when I go to the dentist. Which, I might add, is not all that frequent when you're being shuttled off to different cities between work and school and rest (ie. food and sleep at home for a couple days.) I can't say I complain about not getting the chance to go to the dentist, but I manage to get there about once a year, half of the yearly recommended visits. So I go begrudgingly, taking a chunk out of my relaxation time for an hour in hell. Prodding my teeth with sharp objects and filling my mouth with weird tasting things is not my idea of a good time. So I decided to go home for Easter last week. And my mom idly mentioned that I would have to visit the dentist. Then I get home and my mom tells me that I have an appointment to visit the hygienist on Monday right before I have to hop on the train and do the 4 hour ride back to work. I was none too happy about this, but I figured, hey, at least the dentist wouldn't be able to get me back to fill any holes that he found since I would not be in town for a while after. I'm still mad at my mother when I go to sleep on Thursday night. It's Friday now and I've totally avoided doing anything that involves coherent thought. I save that for dreams, because they're more exciting. My mom asks me if I want to cancel the appointment and I say yes, but I didn't bother to call in because that would mean I have to lift the receiver of the phone. And in my home that's energy-expending. Especially since I have one of those rotary phones. Remember those? The things with the big circle and the holes, and you wind it. Back in the days when you didn't have that auto-dial going, with that annoying pulse phone line. Anyway, so I go to bed. Saturday morning comes along and this is how I'm greeted: "Wake up, Bill's here and he wants to see you.. Oh and you're going to the dentist in an hour." So I have to interact with humans *AND* go to the dentist *AND* get up early (11:30). I was none too happy. Perhaps I should explain why. Ever since Dr. Stulberg retired, I've been going to see Jerry at the local mall. He's a young guy, still paying his mortgage and supporting his young children. So he needs all the money he can get, right? So I'm not pleased because every time I go to see this dentist, I have cavities. Every *single* time I've had a cavity when I've seen this guy. That in itself isn't a big deal. Maybe it's because I don't floss regularly. However, I've had other dentists check me in the 5 years that I've been seeing him, and *NEVER* have they found any cavities. So I'm convinced that he's just going to find 12 cavities and tell me I have to come back Monday and then my entire weekend will be ruined. And all because he had to have that big house. So I'm at the dentists office, and surprisingly, I waited less than 5 minutes until a perky dental hygienist came to tell me she was ready to ravage my mouth. Off to hell, I whimpered and walked off to my demise. So then I'm sitting there getting tartar scratched off of my teeth and "Cat Scratch Fever" a Ted Nugent classic comes on. I comment that it's usually Musak that's played in the dentist's office and she turns it up for me.. AC/DC comes on and I'm banging my head while hygienist chick is struggling to floss me. Ever notice how flimsy those chairs are? You sure do when you're tapping your foot. Everytime she takes her fingers out of my mouth I mention how I'm *far* away and I won't be home for a *long* time. Hoping that subconsciously this would make her ignore tiny cavities. Now I'm swigging fluoride and the dentist comes in to take a look at me and asks me all kinds of stupid questions. Then he says "Everything looks ok" and leaves. I'm totally dumbfounded! This guy has ruined my conspiracy theory. Oh.. I get it now.. He's finally paid off that mortgage. I wondered why he put that gold filling in last time. So I went home happily with my floss, toothbrush and gum stimulator to eat a tonne of sugary foods on Easter Sunday. The moral of the story is always make sure your dentist doesn't owe too much money A sidenote to this story. I was informed that those little red pills thingys that they give you to show you how much plaque you have on your teeth are a complete scam! That's right. They are just a scare tactic for dentists on unsuspecting children. The red gunk just sorta sticks to anything. To add a little irony to this piece I'm brushing my teeth as I type. So, What Now? ============= "Journeys, like artists, are born and not made. A thousand differing circumstances contribute to them, few of them willed or determined by the will -- whatever we may think." [Lawrence Durrell] Ahhhh, let's see. May is coming up, that means probably the most free time so far since I've started this. Hopefully that means, that I can actually do some more interesting things. But I'm not too sure about that, usually don't have nearly as many sleepless nights in the summer, except the end of July and the middle of August at least, but both of those are stories for another time. Actually, in the summer I have the roof of my shed to sit on, so maybe I won't need any sleepless nights. Why don't I stop rambling now? Oh, and how about Control next month? How to get it, and what to do with it once you have it. Sounds kinda interesting. I'm beginning to get a feel for what's going on here. I'd like some input from you before I go on, but I've gotten this far without any so that's fine. I should apologize for this issue, it was put out under severe time constraints and a bit of the stomach flu (you probably didn't need to hear that), and I guess I just did. 'nuff said. Anyways, by next month I should actually get a game plan sort of thing going. I've tested the waters and now I'm going to jump in. If there's anything you'd like to change or leave the same, let me know. Summer's about to begin, so now I'll have the time to invest in this to make it fly. Thanks for reading. Administrivia And Other Big Words ================================= It seems that not all of my mail was forwarded from the eternity address, so if you sent something, but I didn't reply to it then I didn't get it. You might want to send it again. Sorry. Well if you have this then you probably know how you got it, but in case this was passed on to you, then I'll just let you know where you can find it. ftp: ftp.etext.org /pub/Zines/WhyMe/ gopher: gopher.etext.org follow the prompts mail: if you want a copy sent by mail then just send a request to me at the eternity address. If you ask for a copy I'll send one to you. subscriptions: Just send me mail, I'll add you to the list. All I ask is that you let me know what you think about this 'zine, and you can even mention how you found out about it. As always, if you have a question, comment, statement, rant, or anything, feel free to let me know. There's always room for me to improve, and there's always room for an extra page of filler. And the quote list that started it all can be found at the ftp site... I think you can gopher it, but it's pretty big, so ftping it would probably be the easiest thing to do. Or I could just mail it to you. The most recent copy is at the ftp site now. This should replace the one that's been there since February. Disclaimer ========== I take full responsibility of the overall content here. There might be other contributors (and what they say is their own intellectual property), but what goes into this is my choice. Truth is subjective (if you believe something then to you it is fact, and if you don't then it is fiction, simple enough?) so I won't make any claims about honesty... believe what you want. If you're going to use something from here just make sure that you cite whoever wrote the article. If it doesn't say who wrote it, then it's probably me. If you know anything about ISSN numbers, like where I can get one, or what I need them for, or even if I need one, could you please let me know... Everyone else has one, and I want one too. Thanks. Sanjay Singh (4/26/95)