_________________________________________________________________________ _/~~~~~~~~~\_/~~~\______/~~~~~~~~~\_/~~~~~~\____/~~~~~~~~~\_/~~~~~~~~~\__ _/~~~~~~~~~\_/~~~\______/~~~~~~~~~\_/~~~~~~~~\__/~~~~~~~~~\_/~~~~~~~~~\__ _/~~~\_______/~~~\______/~~~\_/~~~\_/~~~\_/~~~\____/~~~\____/~~~\________ _/~~~~~\_____/~~~\______/~~~\_/~~~\_/~~~\_/~~~\____/~~~\____/~~~~~~~~~\__ _/~~~~~\_____/~~~\______/~~~\_/~~~\_/~~~\_/~~~\____/~~~\____/~~~~~~~~~\__ _/~~~\_______/~~~\______/~~~\_/~~~\_/~~~\_/~~~\____/~~~\__________/~~~\__ _/~~~\_______/~~~~~~~~~\/~~~~~~~~~\_/~~~~~~~~~\_/~~~~~~~~~\_/~~~~~~~~~\__ _/~~~\_______/~~~~~~~~~\/~~~~~~~~~\_/~~~~~~~\___/~~~~~~~~~\_/~~~~~~~~~\__ _________________________________________________________________________ flowers of disruption #7 -- 24.07.99 -- by trilobyte == the zine for tasha & anjee == --- there are now officially two issues of flodis known as #5. you can refer to the one created at a later date as flodis #6. this is, officially, flodis #7. --- this issue was written on a laptop at the local internet cafe. i didn't know if i should submit this to hoe or put it in flodis. but i can't do anything right, so i'll release it in flodis. maybe it'll go into hoe later, since this is the zine for anjee and tasha, while other people actually read hoe. i must've been doing something right because the toilet began running its water right as i was done doing my business. i gave it the kind of positive reinforcement that all living things deserve when they do something right. and it had given me mine. the toilet was probably correct in assuming that i had read a depressing story when i was depressed, which is always a good thing to do. it shows you that you have a right to be unhappy or melancholy, because other people have done so and have ended up being quite successful by the end. the story i read involved a pond, and ponds involve water. the toilet ran its water to confirm the place of the pond-story in my mind. my depression has little to do with water, i don't think; or maybe it easily could, since i really might not understand a fluid ounce of it. maybe if i did, i wouldn't be in this state. it could involve the cold capsules i took earlier this evening. drugs that slow you down can slow down your interest in the world. there are other people in the world but they just dont have much influence on you. something else is influencing you, and that something else is known as a drug. for as long as i can remember my mother would give me little yellow pills made of condensed powder. i'd place them in my mouth and they'd instantly absorb any moisture they touched, and their powdery little bodies would stick to my mouth's internal skin. these pills were supposed to do something to help my runny nose and sneezing and other allergic or cold-related symptoms. i only remember them making me tired, though. i'd be woozy. that could mean that my whole memory of a grade-school experience is just a yellow powdery capsule. it enters my mouth and sticks to my gums and cheeks. i have to swallow it before it dissolves there and only leaves me tired with a bad chemical aftertaste. i used to drink coffee back then too. the wait for the bus would be cold and i'd wrap myself in a blanket with my mother, standing there on the sidewalk. some winters were just blisteringly cold. i was pretty comfortable there in the blanket with my mother, though, and she would have a mug of coffee which she had prepared at our house just a few hundred feet away. the coffee would send warm steam into the cold air and sometimes when it was under the blanket it was like just another family member keeping us warm. i would take small sips and it would join the yellow pills in my stomach to make me unaware of the messiness of winter and its effects on me at school. in 1st grade william was in my class and he would come to school in a suit and tie. he dressed very nicely. he represented an aged businessman in my mind. i believed that he knew something i didn't. the truth is probably just that his parents thought they knew something and they proved this knowledge by dressing him for school in a suit and tie. it was quite an experience for me. i was probably just jealous. he made me jealous later, too, after he left my grade school and after a few years had passed by. i was in 6th grade and i saw him downtown at night. it was the festival my town put on called "on the waterfront" and he was dressed in a leather jacket, jeans, and a tshirt. i probably thought he had a tattoo too, but he was only in 6th grade. something had happened to him, because he wasn't at my school anymore and he no longer dressed in a suit and tie. he was the only person my age i had ever seen who had gone from a suit and tie to a leather jacket. he looked tough, but i knew that he used to wear the business outfit his parents dressed him in. i was better than him, though my mother still bought my clothes, because i hadnt changed. i hadn't gone from one fashion to another. i remained with the same crowd he had been a part of when he wore his suit and tie. i was still wearing my jeans and tshirt, and i was still with the crowd. he was with some people who probably did screwy, bad things. i should have known that he wasn't cut out for the suit and tie way of life when i realized that he wasnt a very good speller. he couldnt add very well either back in 1st grade. he had some problems with addition and he ended up wearing a leather jacket and hanging out with a different element. maybe he knew something i didn't. i wonder if i know it now. im probably still with the same crowd and even though i pick out the clothes i wear now, and i can add and i spell words well, but i'm probably one of the only members of my group who even remembers william. or emma. emma had an old woman's name and that karma shaped her being. she was an old woman who was in 1st grade. she already had some sort of raspy voice and talked like she had seen the world. she was from california or minnesota or some other large state that i hadn't been to. she wore clothes that an old woman would have worn, clothes that her mother or father dressed her in. her mother or father also decided to name her "emma". once emma began to dress herself she probably developed into the character of a gothic girl. she used to be dressed in skirts and shirts with classically dead flower patterns on them. i'm sure she changed and began wearing black clothing with undead flower patterns. and maybe she had acne too, a problem that i never had to face. now that i think about it, these old memory-people, william and emma, both were given classic names and were dressed in classic fashion. i've always been distinctly part of the present, even if i develop my own present by stealing from the past. like what's wrong with having a classic relationship today? what's wrong with having a guy take care of his girl? in a classical world, the girl wouldn't have a job, and wouldn't have money, so the guy would take care of her by buying her food and drink and movie ticket. nowadays the girls all have their problems which they've been trained to believe their guy has no ability to help resolve. problems may shape the person you are, but they also take away from the greater shape in which you've been created. people weren't made to exist as a problemy glob. they've got other function, you know. so let's get rid of the deconstructive problems and live on constructive functions. i live in a house that was built with the idea that it would stand for as long as it possibly could. but during the process of its construction, certain accidental imperfections entered its foundation and frame. each one of these imperfections take life away from the house and as time goes on, the house will be decreasingly able to serve its function as a house. each person who has lived in the house has created and produced additional faults in it. these imperfections may remain and fester, and the house may tremble and fall down earlier than its designers had intended. or these faults may be repaired, the house will be a functional shelter for a healthier amount of time. but thats enough about my house, i'm sure. the house next door is much worse because it had some substance and spouse abusers living in it. if you can't take care of yourself or your loved one, theres little hope for the survival of your house. luckily the house is made of metal and even if the inside is torn to shreds, the general structure will remain for someone else to come in and repair. that's what we hope will happen at least. we dont want more abusive people to move in and destroy the house further. whenever those jerks living in the house next door would scream at each other and do drugs and beat each other and yell at their kids and trash their furniture, we would feel less comfortable with ourselves. it's hard to be stuck next to a house full of that many problems. at least it didn't make us trash our house. we're not that easily impressionable. you know what gets me? the father-husband-man of that household would always be paranoid that my mother was looking out of our window at his house. maybe she was doing this because she wanted to watch our property value go down every hour because of the way he treated his family and his house. maybe she was worried about the man's tendency to always be abusive. or maybe she was looking at the weather. either way, he called a local radio station to complain about how his neighbor, the alderman, was always looking in his windows. the radio station didn't seem to care and maybe even understood why she did this. my mother had the tact to not call the radio station right back and explain her position. she didn't publically denounce the way this man lived his life. at the time, it seemed to me like she should have called. i thought that she should have defended herself by explaniing to the radio station and its listeners that our neighbor was an alcoholic drug addict who beat his wife, yelled at his kids, and played loud music late at night in his metal house. now i think that she probably made the right decision by not calling. let him trash his house if he wants. let him be jealous of my mother and the functional way she maintains her house. i spend most of my time in the basement of my house and have lived like that for years. i used to have all my toys spread out across the sparsely furnished floor. i had so much room to play with my legos and my baseball cards and my nintendo games. sometimes they'd all be out at the same time because i'd get tired of my legos and get out my baseball cards without putting the legos away. i knew i'd come back to them soon. and then i'd get out my nintendo games when i got tired of the baseball cards, leaving the baseball cards out, and there would be a big mess. then my mom would come downstairs and pick my mess up off the floor, and everything would end up in the wrong place. she messed up my complete set of 1988 Topps by doing that. man. ---- ŠÕÕª .-. Š»ÕÕÕº Šª Š»ÕÕÕÕº ŠÕª ŠŠÕÕÕÕÕÕÕª | | this was an †† †† †† ŠÕª † † †ÕÕ† ††† | | honestly bad †»ÕÕÕº †† †† † † ŠÕÕÕÕ†Õ† † † ††† | | time-waster †† †† †† † † † † † † † †»ÕÕÕÕÕÕÕº | | email-box †† ŠÕÕÕÕÕª †ŠÕÕª † † † † † † »»» | | filler »º »ÕÕÕÕÕº »»ÕÕºÕº »ÕÕÕÕ»Õº »ÕÕº »»ÕÕÕÕÕÕÕº | | from .----------------------------------------------------------| | trilobyte `----------------------------------------------------------`-' flodis / flowers of disruption #7 / 24.07.99 / trilobyte@hoe.nu tell your friends to blow a mind with flodis