(startfile: 1.55.00am 8.7.96) Neko's welcome -------------- werD! Not much is going on here...I realized I forgot some people from my crush list in the last issue, so I'll try to remember to add them on here. Also, one person analyzed my dream! Thanks oods! Read her analysis somewhere in here. ON a final note, I massmailed flc 4 to about 150 people. Most didn't care for it. Some of the choice responses will no doubt make it here. Few final things: I used to run a BBS called green eggs 'n spam. I am somewhat recreating it at http://www.firecraker.com/users/neko/gens ... btw, I updated my home page for the first time in two months yesterday. http://www.firecraker.com/users/neko is that URL. Visit early, visit often. Later... John Index ----- 01 ... Neko's welcome 02 ... Postscript to love 03 ... february 6th, 1996 04 ... Simply put -- porn 05 ... february 7th, 1996 06 ... Oods, Amateur Dream Interpreter 07 ... february 8th, 1996 08 ... The Descendents 09 ... february 9th, 1996 10 ... The internet is ruining my life 11 ... february 10th, 1996 12 ... The great flc mailbomb project 13 ... february 11, 1996 14 ... right now 15 ... february 12th, 1996 16 ... decay 17 ... february 13th, 1996 18 ... doubt ritual distortion 19 ... february 14th, 1996 20 ... endgame Postscript to love ------------------ As I was showering the morning after writing flc 4, I realized I left out Theresa. Theresa was the girl I was talking about in flc 1. I don't think I really need to go into any further detail. Another girl I had a crush on, Kathleen, I didn't see after middle school. That is, until the end of December, 1995. Then, I was in my city's local indie record store and she walked in. She was as pretty as I remembered her to be. Unfortunately, she had two guys with her. However, she smiled at me. We didn't say anything, just shared a smile. I went home that night and looked up her last name in the phone book. I called them all, asking for Kathleen at each one. Finally I found her -- she wasn't home though. So, I wrote her a letter saying how cool it was to see her and she should call me and yadda yadda yadda. Never heard anything. Then, on July 19th, I went to a show and saw her again. She was with two guys again (the same two?). This didn't stop her from throwing a smile my way again. I wonder if girls know the results of their actions and do it anyway. Last night, I was talking to this girl Lyn on the phone. She said that there was a brief time last week when she was between boyfriends. She called me, but I wasn't home. If she had asked, I wonder what I would've said. I mean, I call myself straight-edge and she is definitely at the opposite end of my ideological spectrum. Would I have said yes just to be able to say, "D00D!@! I have a girlfriend!@!@"? I honestly don't know. Nothing makes sense anymore, least of all love and friendship. february 6th, 1996 -- 10:39pm ----------------------------- i almost forgot to write. i denied the charges in court today. wonder how big of a news story it'll be tomorrow. Anyhoo, to no surprise (does that make sense?) i didn't give my letter to allison today. i will to talk to stacy as soon as i can get her alone. hopefully tomorrow. Simply put -- porn ------------------ A few weeks ago, I received a catalog from a company called Voyages. Voyages is not the type of catalog you'd expect a 16 year old to receive unsolicited -- it is a porn catalog. I don't object to companies sending me these but I feel I must comment on it. First of all, on the cover, there is a price -- $10.00. Who in hell would pay $10 for a CATALOG? Second, third-infinity, of all, they have some really dumb stuff inside. Lets attack the 'department' titles first: Beaver Bust, Lesbo Sluts, Totally Tasteless Bitches, Sluts From Around The World, White Trash Sluts, Cheap Whores, Dirty Truck Stop Bitches, Chicks With Dicks (Dante -- "And you rented this?" Randal -- "Hey, I like to expand my horizons!"), and, to top it all off, they have a selection of videos called Deja Vu. Deja Vu has got to be one of the dumbest moneymaking ideas I have ever heard of in my life. There are 8 volumes listed here, ranging from titles such as Girl-Girl Pussy Passion to Ass Rimming Hunks to Endless Blow Job. The idea behind Deja Vu videos is to take "one down and dirty sex scene played over and over and over again". These videos all last for 60 minutes. The only positive thing I can see from these videos is that by not using the remote to rewind you have your hands free for ... other things. Just for fun, I think I'll list some of the more 'interesting' titles of the Voyages collection: Old Bitches, Knocked-Up Nymphos, Rollie Pollie Chicks, Grinding Grannies, Knocked Up & Nasty, Slip n' Slide Dildo Ride, Lactamania Vol. 3, Tailz From Da Hood, Black Ass White Gash Vol. 2, Transexual Blvd., Sluts in Suburbia, The Fat, the Bald & the Ugly, Geriatric Park, Slammin' Granny in the Fanny, and, of course, John Waynt Bobbitt: Uncut. If, for some reason, this interests you, call 415-626-5656. february 7th, 1996 -- 10:16pm ----------------------------- All i can think about is NOTHING! i want to see a fucking movie friday night! Maybe with a girl, too! that'd be eleet! there's more, i just don't know. Oods, Amateur Dream Interpreter ------------------------------- Date: Sat, 3 Aug 1996 13:26:17 -0400 (EDT) From: oodles Subject: Re: To: John Heisel how the hell do you get to travel so much? if it has to do with your school, i'm signing up! oh, dream interpretation.. shit uh, i forget the major parts of the dream now. hrm. i remmeber the water stood for fluidity, like between you two and your connection to each other. the ride was the path of it between you two. it was going from the floor to the ceiling, which was away from you. but then you climbed up the stairs, the stairs meaning theres another route for you to get to her.. then you actually did meet her before she went too far up the ride, which means you can still catch her.. she came with you and got off the ride.. then there was something about you getting to the dance? but it was too late.. maybe that means that it will seem like you have caught her after a long hard 'ride' but when you think everything is about to fall into place after your troubles they won't, becyase it might have just been a bit too late. okay so thats my interpretation, it could mean anythig though. i didnt look in any books for real meanings to these things, i just went from experience and memory.. blah. february 8th, 1996 -- 10:00pm ----------------------------- i didn't see allison at all today. so, about 3 hours ago i called. she wasn't home, but a message was taken. no return call. is it rude to ask why? ruder than not calling? she had no obligation to, but it would be the considerate thing to do, right? i don't know anymore. i like allison but i don't like this. i argued with sara watts about whether or not evolution should be taught as opposed to creation. no winner, but that is the christian schtick i can't stand. it's not that i am smarter, more gifted, whatever, than my contemporaries, i just have a better understanding of reality. what matters. or so i thought. and yet i agonize over a phone call. i wonder what the incoming / outgoing call ratio is on my line. couldn't be any higher than 1:5. that makes me sad. The Descendents --------------- Joining my list of best all time bands are the Descendents. Ever since the first time I listened to my only Descendents CD _Two Things At Once_ (a combination of the Milo Goes To College LP and the Bonus Fat EP), I knew that they were a special band, lyrically. I saw parallels to my love life (or lack thereof) in the songs "Hope" and "Bikeage". These two songs are basically about a guy liking a girl a whole lot and her not returning the love, but instead getting fucked over by about a zillion other guys. The lyrics insist that the guy will be there for her no matter what and that someday she'll realize that. At the time when I bought this CD, there was a girl who I felt like that about. Later, more of the songs' lyrics grew on me. Every time I felt like I just wanted to escape what was going on, I would play "Catalina". "Catalina" tells the story of just getting fed up and leaving. The twist is that the lyricist's boat breaks down and he ends up stuck on Catalina. Not a bad place to be, I've often thought. Lately, the song "Parents" has really hit home. I'll quote the lyrics now, just because. (They were written by Frank Navetta and are copyright New Alliance Music 1986). Parents, why won't they shut up? / Parents they're so fucked up / They treat me like a tool / They take me for a fool / Parents ... / They're so fucking dense / They look into the past / For future reference / Parents ... / They don't even know I'm a boy / Just treat me like a toy / But litle do they know / One day I'll explode! / Parents ... . I *was* going to now write about how much my parents suck, but I just decided that it was probably just more random teenage angst, and when you're a teen, no matter who you are, your parents suck. Always. It has been written. february 9th, 1996 -- 10:31pm ----------------------------- i kinda snapped at allison this morning. she said hi or something, and i replied with a nasty what. i watched the smile leave her face. i did not like what happened. so, in second hour, i wrote a note. i hope i've got the balls to give it to her, i really do. people in gifted make me sick, but people not in gifted make me sicker. went and saw grumpier old men with tim and scott denowh. on the way out we were walking through younker's and i heard a female clerk say this to another female clerk "this is weird -- you me and (so-and-so other clerk) are all wearing the same bra! uh-huh. quiz bowl tomorrow. i wonder what that'll be like. basketball game tomorrow night. if allison is there i WILL give her the "second hour note". i hope. The internet is ruining my life ------------------------------- Assuming I had a life to begin with, the Internet is surely robbing it from me. It doesn't just *seem* like I spend all my time online, I really do. I haven't studied Russian in months -- why? I was online. I haven't prepared my room for departure -- why? I was online. I haven't done shit to advance my life -- why? I WAS ONLINE. The connectivity of email is great -- I am so much more open when I write words on the screen than when I am talking in person. irc is good too, in limited amounts. The only problem is that I sit on it all day and all night. I am depriving myself of sleep to "talk" to a group of people whom I have never met (for the most part) and (again, for the most part) will never meet. The worst part is that I can't stop. I try to go to sleep, but I am so worried that I will miss something, I can't tear my ass out of the computer chair. In a week or so, I will be moving into the basement. My dad said he will be taking the keyboard at night so I am not tempted to use the computer. Shit, I am already using it 24/7 as it is. Staying up all night in the basement when I should be asleep in my room. I really hope that I don't have any Internet access in Russia, because then I won't accomplish anything. I have already proven to myself many times over than prolonged exposure to the online world makes my school work stuff slide. If I have exposure to this world when I am supposed to be learning a foreign language and culture -- and all I do is speak English to people I've 'known' for quite some time -- I will get nowhere, fast. Hopefully, being deprived of the Internet for a year will 'cure' me and not make me binge when I come home. Where is help when you need it? february 10th, 1996 -- 10:45pm ------------------------------ Quiz bowl tourney was ok. and i ripped off kentucky fried chicken. yay. apparently allison is going to winter formal with cameron - "just as friends". i don't see the point in doing that. especially if its just so you don't have to go stag. and of course, her date not being me, well, umm, that sucks. but thats what happens when you can't speak. her dad picked us up (i conned a ride out of her - yay.) anyway, her dad seemed pretty cool, and his car roolz. and i need a fucking modem so i can call mogel's board. i need to set something up for allthe other people who aren't going to the dance. or maybe just for me and someone else. The great flc mailbomb project ------------------------------ Before releasing flc 4, I was bored enough to look through a bunch of magazines and newspapers, procuring published email address as I went. Once I released flc 4, I sent it out to about 150 people whose addresses I got this way. I also sent them all a notice telling them how I got their addresses. Most of the responses I've gotten were requests to be removed from the mailing list. Some, as you shall soon see, were more creative than others. One guy went so far as to copy the issue back to me 4 times, asking 'how I liked it'. Two or three new people did sign up, though, so *that* is good. Here are the 'best' of the best unsubscribe messages. Date: Fri, 2 Aug 1996 21:47:47 -0400 From: DaveCr@aol.com To: neko@firecraker.com Subject: Re: funky llama club - KEEP THIS SHIT OUT OF MY MAIL BOX HEY DICKHEAD!! KEEP THIS CRAP OUT OF MY MAILBOX. From: hapgood@pobox.com (Fred Hapgood) To: John Heisel Subject: Re: werd 2 yr mom Date: Mon, 05 Aug 1996 05:17:10 GMT References: <1.5.4.16.19960804151333.1ba790c6@email.firecraker.com> >You've all had a good day or so to look over flc #4. So, what did you think? >Would you like to receive the back issues? Would you like me to add you to >the main mailing list to get future issues? >---- I hate to be the one to break it to you, John, but what you did was spamming, and it is not the way to get your projects a fair hearing. When person puts his or her email address on the bottom of a paper text the intention is exactly the same as publishing the same information in the header of a USENET message. It's there as a convenience to readers who want to discuss the subject at hand. Neither is intended as a 'spam me' sign to the world in general. Also you should learn how to use the blind CC: command. Fred -- www.pobox.com/~hapgood world.std.com/~fhapgood Date: Mon, 5 Aug 1996 11:13:15 -0400 From: LeveyCPA@aol.com To: neko@firecraker.com Subject: Re: werd 2 yr mom delete me from your mailing list. I find your type of intrusion to be most annoying. Just because my name is "public knowledge" does not give you the right to call or send me stuff you think is important. It is types like you that will kill this form of communication. february 11th, 1996 -- 9:13pm ----------------------------- why can't i do what i want to? somewhere along the line it seems that fear has been attached to pleasure. i am afraid of what the outcome may turn out to be. tim was at sonia's today. apparently she was making out with someone, so he called me. and i talked to sonia. she said she would like to keep in touch. what has changed over 6 months that would make her think that? i think i've been lost in the shuffle. right now (11-21-95) -------------------- so. the spirit has moved me once again. i had a feeling in my stomach telling me to sit down and write. so we will now witness the results. will i write something personal or will i write an odd story. lately. fade to black. ideas have come and gone. the thought process has been in overdrive. but where is it going. my life. is it endless monotony. no. it just seems like it to me. someone out there would, and will, die to live my life. scary. i wake up every morning, after 6 or 7 hours of sleep at 5:30 or so. i deliver my papers. sometimes i eat breakfast. then i shower. and get dressed. and get 'ready' to greet the day. on most days, i am quickly driving to school. i look toward school with contempt. an institution that could be something if it tried. the same line it has fed to us a hundred times over. once i'm at school, my life ends for six hours. or is it seven. something like that. before, during, and immediately following school. the drone. endless. people who are doing things. with no thought as to why. what they are doing. why they are doing it. where they're going. just happily and ignorantly cruising by. i strike up a conversation now and again but it doesn't go anywhere. in my opinion, no one (or at least no one i have the pleasure of speaking with regularly) approaches things in quite the same way i do. this makes it hard to communicate and converse. but i do my best. or i try to. but i fail just like those who don't try. the same people who don't try also strike it rich elsewhere. socially. is that what i want. looking at these people, i would say no. but my subconcious nags me. tells me otherwise. solace is a hard commodity to come by at school. playing music is great. and the people are great, for the most part. hell, not even most. very few actually. but in music, the people either don't bother me, or i don't let them. and then i partake in a foreign language. what a joke. someone refused to take a test just because it was given in the foreign language. what a joke. then i go back in time. it doesn't work, though. hard as the teacher tries, the students always seem to quash his aspirations. why don't i stand up and say something. where is this courage that i've been told i have. next i have to go and complete some form of physical education. the education happens next to never, and the physicality is debatable. today i was called a bitch and was told i was going to get my motherfucking ass kicked because i told this girl that we weren't playing volleyball, but chaos volleyball. and all this in front of a gym teacher. who stood helplessly the entire time. but i don't let it bother me. then science comes to me in the form of chemistry. the class is usually easy to me, which upsets many of my classmates. apparently i don't give them the chance to respond. maybe if they'd pay attention and work rather than wasting time talking they'd feel differently. maybe not. oh and then lunch. hell of hells. there is nowhere for me to go. nowhere i can concretely fit in. this wouldn't be so bad if i had something to do. but, as luck would have it, i usually don't. so i half pay attention, half stay in a somewhat dreamy state thinking of how much better things could be if they weren't this way. but what is this way. then my math class. why is it so hard for me to grasp when it's important. and then english. but the teacher seems to think it's psychology, philosophy, anything other than literature. although today she said she'd like to teach literature all the time. who knows. people are too afraid to break the rules. then i go home. where my neighbor constantly impedes upon my life. but that's ok. i don't find myself minding anymore. i probably owe him anyway. if he is happy this way, then i am happy, and happy for him. then i just lounge around. and wait. hover. over the phone. but it doesn't matter. i can't make it ring. so i play music. and wait some more. still. nothing. solace in the music. another human's voice. even if it's one i'll never hear in person. how did i come to be alienated. was it by a series of choices i made. or did other people see fit to make them for me. who am i. what am i. where am i. where am i going. where have i been. if people don't call me, i'll call them. no problem there. sometimes we talk for a few minutes, other times for hours. somehow, it's all ok. neither amount of time is better than the other. there are so few people. who even try to understand. try to humor me. maybe some have cracked through the shell. maybe some think they have. but where are they. and why aren't they here. what in the world happened to you, sang the offspring. the water is so fucking hot, sing jane's addiction right now on my cd player. what does it all mean. not a damned thing, most likely. are our lives pre destined, determined, and the like. would it matter if they were. thinking that will get you nowhere. fast. thinking gets you nowhere. faster. ignorance seems to be society's main quality today. fastest. so what am i doing. what are you doing. what is he doing. and what about her. don't forget them. what don't i have. where is honesty. the best policy. people should think about enacting it more often. especially when it's necessarry. kudos. last week i talked for a few minutes with people i hadn't talked to in months. about nothing in particular. but still, hearing their voices again was great. almost made me miss them. and the society we had. does anyone have ideals anymore. where are they. warped. and as forrest gump said, that is all i have to say about that. february 13th, 1996 -- 10:07pm ------------------------------ i gave allison my second-hour note today. hopefully she will have some noticeable reaction to it - i honestly don't know if i can ask her about it. but not asking about it would be like lieing. denying its existence. it doesn't seem very hard for me to do that, though. on another note, i asked for the modem back today. they're going to think about it. and on a sad note, mike kost's mom died over the weekend. decay (11-28-95) ---------------- i just looked at old stuff. old issues of dto. ha. imagine that. they're only three months old, and already i've labeled them old issues. man. i had some fucking ideas, too. and i came downstairs to my computer to expound upon them. but i forgot what i wanted to say. oh well. such is life. i've had a lot of free time since i took my bbs down and lost my modem due to extenuating circumstances. i haven't used this newfound free time for anything useful, however. nothing has incensed or inspired me enough to really get down and dirty and write about it. so maybe i'll just go on and on about life. my life, in particular. after all, i have the most experience with it. my name is john. john heisel. you may hear that name in the future if i am arrested. you see, i ran a bbs. green eggs 'n spam, it was called. then, on the first day of my sophmore year at auburn high school, the bubble bursted. i was interrogated by the rockford police in regard to various computer crimes. i am not going to waste my time and yours going on about what happened, but, needless to say, my parents saw fit to take my modem. well, actually it was their modem, after all they bought it. the cops told me not to tell anyone at school what happened. yeah fucking right. they pull me out of class on the first day of school and expect no one to ask why. yeah fucking right. so the word got out. whoop dee do. i don't know how it has changed people's opinion about me, and, frankly, i couldn't care less. so that's how my year started out. i tried looking at the brighter side of this, i wouldn't be distracted by my modem all the time. i would have more time to spend with my friends. i would have more time to be. but nothing has worked out. at first, i was glad to be rid of the nuisance of my modem. but now i want it back. it was my lifeblood. and i am incredibly sad to make that statement. i made friends with this modem. friends who i can only really keep in contact with over the modem. i want it back. without a modem, i'd have more time to spend with my friends, right? nope. i mean, i'm not one who is constantly out and about, and without a modem i seemed to just mope around more. the day before i was interrogated, i was at a local park for a final summer fling with my friends. it was dull, boring, stupid, pointless, and inane, as almost all gatherings with these people are but the difference this time was that i noticed it. and i didn't know what to do about it. i started looking at my friends from a different perspective and only a few stood out anymore as people. they rest melted into a nameless, shapeless blur. of these few, i have attempted to solicit and solidify friendship with them. i feel i have failed in all respects. except for one. one who i feel knows what i know. feels what i feel. is what i am. in some respects, not all. this person realized what i now know long before i even began doubting it. i think that this person waited for me. knowing i would join them, but not where and when. but even this doesn't seem to be going quite as well as it could be. the fear. fear of what, i'm not just sure, but i know that it's there. in everything i do. sometimes i am so independent, other times i am quite dependent. makes no sense. no rhyme or reason to this pattern. so what's new, pussycat? not a damned thing, i'm somewhat less than proud to report. all's quiet on the western front. and the northern. eastern. southern. why should it be any different now than it was before. a case study into human indecency. that's what i should call my life. i see things. things i can't believe others don't see. or that they choose to ignore. i rationalize. i am the normal one, they're all fucked up. but maybe the table is turned - they're normal, and i'm so fucked up i refuse to admit it. rather than using this time as an opportunity to pass go and collect two hundred dollars, i've been unable to start my racecar. what do i want. where will i find it. how will it come to me. those are questions i ask myself. petty as it sounds, i think they things i want are attention and recognition. isn't that why i became a hacker in the first place? to finally be somebody. or maybe that's why i write. so when will i wake up and find my petty dreams. sometime rather soon, i hope. but what if attention and recognition aren't what i really want. i need hope. got to have it. it's very elusive, though. people aren't willing to stretch the limits anymore, too afraid they'll get in trouble. that's why my phone doesn't ring. why the bbs scene is dieing; no one is willing to call long distance. the people won't protest what they know is wrong because they're afraid of being arrested. or chastised. or suspended. maybe this is my release. maybe this is my garbage. will i change things. probably not. i don't think i'm ready to become the catalyst for change i know i need to be. i am in my mind. anytime something is wrong - be it something i said to someone and later determined might have hurt them, be it something in society - i am much more apt to work through it in my mind, play the scene out, give my apology, fight the power, whatever, and conclude that it's all ok. well it's fucking not ok, ok? soap opera star turned singer michael damian once sang, 'where do we go from here? which is the way that's clear?' and that's where i am right now. february 14th, 1996 -- 10:07pm ------------------------------ Happy VD! ha-ha. tim and i went to his church to help these little kids with computers. did that for, like, 5 minutes. the adults were totally yelling at the kids. i mean, abusive yelling. totally fucking scary. so we left and went to Mad City. i guess tim and i are going to sonia's on friday. we'll chill with elisha, while sonia fucks dan leslie. joy! and on saturday, plans seem to be shaping up to go see a movie with Paula. Take THAT, Winter Formal. Hardee-fucking-Har. doubt ritual distortion (04-04-96) ---------------------------------- i wake up drenched in sweat. the same nightmare that has kept me up for the past five nights. i'm at school. it's not an odd occurrence, i go every day to all of my classes. but this day is different. it starts out like any other but i have the sense of something being wrong. i walk into the building, and it is the quietest i have ever heard it in the morning. i figure i must just be earlier than usual. then a bell rings. students file out of their classes, looking pale and zombified. i walk over to some people i know. "hi, allison," i utter, hoping to start a conversation with the girl i have a crush on. she says nothing back. that is extremely odd. she usually has something to say to me. i think she likes me. i am dumbfounded. she didn't even acknowledge my presence. i begin to follow her and then something eerie happens: someone walks through me. i feel the strangest rush of energy as it happens. it's like i can feel their thoughts. "i wonder if christine likes me...i mean, sure, she fucked me and all, but.. what if it's just a rouse? oh shit! we didn't use a condom...and we smoked a.." and then it was gone, as quickly as it had come. i walk to the nearest corner and sit down, for once content to be the observer. was i dead? i didn't remember dying. and if i was dead, what the hell was i doing in school. then there was a series of bright colors. like an acid flashback. odd, considering i'd never done drugs. the next thing i knew i was lying in my bed. my mother was shouting at my sister and i was just ignoring it. listening to my music. becoming my music. i felt my blood move to the rhythm presented on compact disc. the shouting stopped. the two parties had consolidated and gone to sleep. i got out of bed and walked downstairs. i looked at the thermometer. it read 12 degrees farenheit. dressed only in hanes briefs, i opened the door and walked outside. i saw trees sway in the heavy wind. i wasn't phased at all by the cold. in fact, it seemed to be egging me on. daring me to go further. i started walking. all of a sudden, i was blind. thud. i was lying on the ground. now i was floating in the air, looking at my battered body on the ground. now i was back in the corner in school. the bell rang. i figured i should go to class. i walked in late, for the first time ever. the teacher didn't say anything. it was like i wasn't even there. i moved to sit in my assigned seat but it was occupied by someone i'd never seen before in my life. i shouted. "hey!" no response. no one even batted an eyelash. "hey! fuck you! stupid fucking assholes!" still no reaction. i was worried. i ran out of the classroom. i ran down the stairs, jumping them three at a time. i moved as quickly as possible to the parking lot. where the hell was my car? i knew where i parked it and it wasn't there. just then my vision melted. the acid flashback again. i was in a room in an office building. there was a file cabinet in the corner with the bottom drawer open and a file sitting out. i picked up the file. it had, "mclunden, martin," written on it. my name. i opened it up. maybe it would explain what was going on. at first i saw nothing. then the manila folder started to turn black and feel more like a liquid. then my hands disappeared into the folder. the folder dropped to the ground with a bang. afraid that someone had heard the noise and would come find out what it was, i stepped onto the folder to be swallowed up by the darkness. i don't remember falling. this is where i wake up. i get dressed and go to school. i walk into the building, and it is the quietest i have ever heard it in the morning. i figure i must just be earlier than usual. then a bell rings. students file out of their classes, looking pale and zombified. i walk over to some people i know. "hi, allison," i utter, hoping to start a conversation with the girl i have a crush on. she says nothing back. that is extremely odd... february 15th, 1996 -- 10:14pm ------------------------------ allison told me she had a letter (later downgraded to a note) for me. i was excited. she couldn't find it and just gave up and told me what was in it. she didn't get my message...and she needed to tell me that? (well, why not? i wouldn't probably have the nerve to say it.) Maybe there was something else. probably just filler. at least she didn't say sorry. nothing was her fault, she shouldn't say sorry. i really don't like it when people apologize for things that aren't their fault. endgame ------- That's all folks. Once again, I have wasted my night away writing shite. One thing you aspiring fiction writers should know: MTV is sponsoring a writing contest. Grand prize is getting published and $5000 cash. Call 1-888-688-4688 for more info. They said they'd send it out to me in two weeks. Well, approximately two weeks from today, I'll be hopping a plane to New York. Hope they get it here before then. You know the routine -- email me at neko@firecraker.com -- I cherish all messages. (endfile: 3.47.40am 8/7/96)