-:+:- +evolution+ -:+:- issue nine -:+:- march 20, 1997 -:+:- _____________________________________________________________________ ok. it's issue #9. rejoice, rejoice, blah blah blah.. this is going to be my last issue for a while. i don't really have time anymore. so, what's gonna happen, i'm gonna turn +evolution+ over to a friend of mine for a while. he's appeared here before, you may recognize the handle. i'll probably still contribute some stuff, but i'm giving up the editorial side of things for a while. -:+:--------------:+:- in this issue... stuff! i don't feel like making a table of contents this time. suffer, or don't care - it all works the same for me. -:+:--------------:+:- :.: [1] south 23 : chapter two :.: . this litle piece of writing is intended as chapter two of the . story i began in +evolution+ #8. it also works well as a . stand-alone short work. . . i might contribute more of this in the future when +evolution+ . is under kayem's guidance. though i suppose if he wants to . write some stuff in this little saga, that's cool with me.. December, 1996. I was on a plane headed to Boston from Milwaukee, having spent christmas with my family in Wisconsin. Midwest Express never failed to amaze me -- such beautiful food, huge leather seats -- it was like heaven. Maybe it was heaven, I mean, 30,000 feet above the earth is pretty damn heavenly. And that girl.. She was sitting in front of me. seat 15-A to my 16-B. I saw a lot of her hair, seeing as she was in front of me and backs of heads are often covered in the stuff. And beautiful hair it was -- a nice brown color, straight, extending down about four or five inches below the shoulders, with very subtle highlights toward the front, near her face. Her eyes, a deep brown, in the dim light of the nighttime trip across the Great Lakes. Soft, round, her face was near the the perfect imperfection I had been seeking for quite a while. She was my airplane girl. Every man, at some point, encounters her. She's not necessarily an airplane girl; she might be a subway girl or a bus girl, or maybe even a bookstore or coffee shop girl. But she's there, at some point. Yr mind starts racing, heartbeat accelerates, dreams and fantasies begin flowing out of nowhere, those few minutes or hours extending into saomething paradoxically longer and shorter. And then, she's gone, forever. -:+:--------------:+:- :.: [2] some untitled ramblings i wrote :.: :.: a few days ago while mildly drunk :.: i want to touch i want to taste i want to feel i want to hold i want to kiss i want to fuck i want the ability to live outside of myself and feel something besides my own self hate and loathing i want to lay in bed and hold someone and feel them against me and i want to know that someone else cares about me instead of me caring about another person for a change or maybe i just want to be like everyone else and have meaningless torture-ridden relationships for the sake of getting laid at the end of the night but i don't i want love but i can't because i can't have the meaningless relationships to find out who the fuck i am because i don't know anymore i don't know anything about myself i'm lost in this world seeking a love i can't have and probably won't ever find because i can't handle it but i can't handle being alone anymore either i see my friends having physical sexual contact and i want that but i don't want the horrible torture of having my mind fucked with like everyone else people always think i'm really strong because i tell them that i don't want meaningless sexual relationships which is true but it's also because i just can't i can't can't conceptualize it i can't think about it and i certainly can't do it and i'm sick of it i want to go out and fuck someone right now just to get it over with to say i did it i can't handle this i can't handle. :.: duct tape boy : 3.16.97 :.: -:+:--------------:+:- :.: [3] smash yr head on the pun krock! :.: the teenage anthem: the time honored-tradition of the catchy little rock ditty. where did it go? no longer do we have our "teen age riot", our "it's the end of the world as we know it", our "god save the alternateen", our "outspoken", the songs every kid we knew could start singing at any time and everyone else would break out in a mass sing-along as we sat in a basement or walked down the street or drove to some monday night all ages show. the songs of our youth have been replaced with the songs of someone else's youth: "out of step", "straight edge", songs written 15 years ago or more. every band these days plays minor threat's version of "steppin' stone", complete with their singer copying ian mackaye's random scream at the end. i know it sounds like i'm whining about the sad state of the lower cape music skeen. i am. and i plan to continue until someone besides me and my tiny little tribe does something about it. i know that bryan and aidan and myself aren't the only ones fed up with the bullshit that is this hardcore punk revival. the reason teenage anthems are what they are is that they're original. sure, they're all rock songs, but something distinguishes them from the other music, the other rock songs that coexist at the same time. a minor threat song isn't different from a song by a band that wants to be minor threat. it's all been done before. the trick is to do it in a different way. -:+:--------------:+:- :.: closing thoughts :.: yeah, i know, it's not too long, but that's ok. quality over quantity, or something like that.. so, i'm out5k for a while. kayem, don't fuck up my zine. too much. 8) -:+:--------------:+:- :.: +evolution+ :.: editor : duct tape boy :.: contact +evolution+: + electronic mail : zaphod@sidehack.gweep.net + united states postal service : p.o. box 1631, orleans, ma 02653 + telephone : (508) 934-5131 + telepathy : think about duct tape for a few minutes (C) 1997 Mono Boy Comunications