there are no new experiences only evolving thoughts _________________________________________________________________________ _/~~~~~~~~~\_/~~~\______/~~~~~~~~~\_/~~~~~~\____/~~~~~~~~~\_/~~~~~~~~~\__ _/~~~~~~~~~\_/~~~\______/~~~~~~~~~\_/~~~~~~~~\__/~~~~~~~~~\_/~~~~~~~~~\__ _/~~~\_______/~~~\______/~~~\_/~~~\_/~~~\_/~~~\____/~~~\____/~~~\________ _/~~~~~\_____/~~~\______/~~~\_/~~~\_/~~~\_/~~~\____/~~~\____/~~~~~~~~~\__ _/~~~~~\_____/~~~\______/~~~\_/~~~\_/~~~\_/~~~\____/~~~\____/~~~~~~~~~\__ _/~~~\_______/~~~\______/~~~\_/~~~\_/~~~\_/~~~\____/~~~\__________/~~~\__ _/~~~\_______/~~~~~~~~~\/~~~~~~~~~\_/~~~~~~~~~\_/~~~~~~~~~\_/~~~~~~~~~\__ _/~~~\_______/~~~~~~~~~\/~~~~~~~~~\_/~~~~~~~\___/~~~~~~~~~\_/~~~~~~~~~\__ _________________________________________________________________________ flowers of disruption #29 -- 12.11.99 -- by trilobyte == the zine for tasha & anjee == my nose is cold but you don't know that because you're not here but i'll tell you by building a train to champaign -- the first train from here to there, and its whistle would blow in different tones to yell "HELLO!" "HELLO!" yes it would yell and "MY NOSE IS COLD! I THOUGHT YOU SHOULD KNOW!" the train of pain and heartache would moan moan moan down the track, a straight track, the train would not be quite alive because being alive means more than going from here to there occasionally blurting out a noise -- the SAME noise -- just in different tones, even a dog can make different noises, different noises at different notes, and it can eat and go more than just from here to there, a DOG can go everywhere. yes, i suppose that's the difference between a train and a dog but then does man's creation of the car mean anything more toward our mission to create mechanical life? the car can turn left and right and make choices, the car can groan, though always the same note. the car eats fuel but the car can't go UP or down like a PLANE but a PLANE is too big to maneuver over our hills and into lakes and things, and look at the small wheels we put on those -- what kind of massacre would take place when a plane hit a deer? lots of cars go KABLOOEY when they kill a large animal such as that, and with the small chicken-legs of the massive plane, the small chicken-legs on wheels... it's disaster on the runway. it could probably tear me to bits, if i stood in front of it. maybe that's what i'll try tomorrow. little bist and pieces of me could be stuck to the chicken legs of a plane as it flies all over the world. that is, if they didn't wash my blood and guts off of it. fucking assholes. and though my body might be stuck to the plane in little chunks of blood and flesh, i can't say that my soul would be with it. my soul could just fly other places by itself. but really i can't say that because i've never just been a soul without a body. hell, who knows if maybe i've just been a body without a soul. i could take lessons from the greats of soul, the people who seem to have found their spiritual habitat here on this planet. they're "IN TOUCH" with their insides, they can grope around and feel the things that we can't see or touch or hear. but i'm told some people CAN hear those gropable things. those dead people that walk around and sit in sofas and talk to you when you don't expect them to. some people can even draw these spirits into being, they can invite them to their pad to chill for a bit. but maybe spirits can't chill. maybe they're always chilling. you can't chill without alcoholic drinks, or Spirits, as they're called. and ghosts probably can't drink liquor. but they're already spirits. that's the confusing part about being a ghost. the other confusing part about being a ghost is that you take the form of a human being, though you really don't have any form to speak of. so if you look in a mirror, how are you going to see yourself? but living folks, people, can see ghosts in mirrors, so obviously the ghosts really do take form. or maybe the people who see ghosts in mirrors aren't really seeing ghosts at all. maybe they're not even seeing mirrors. maybe light plays tricks on everyone. we're all just beams of light anyway. you know those little quarks people talk about? the quarks that make up the electrons and neutrons and all that bazoo? well those quarks are just little particles of light and they bounce around and they've got their own language but we can't talk to them because our language is much different than theirs. their language involves bouncing around and being happy or sad or neutral. and tomorrow i'm going to throw a party for the quarks. i'm going to get a bunch of bottles of champagne and we're going to celebrate light. the light celebration. and i'll pop the corks or quarks or yeah, i'll pop the Corks on the bottles of champagne because i don't think the QUARKS would like to be popped, but then how would i know? i've never asked them. if they like bouncing around they might like to be Popped because then they can bounce even faster and WHEE IT'S LIKE WE'RE PARTICLES ON A TRAMPOLINE. society was fine until we started killing people for money. that's just stupid. without people, there would be no money. so what use is money if there are no people? mercenaries have got it all wrong, they need to wake up and taste the grease running down their walls. they need to walk over there and LICK LICK lap it up like the dogs that they are. they live for money. and they'll die, whether they have money or not. and so will i. maybe i'll die faster if i have no money. that would be sad. if i got really sick and had no money and couldn't go to the hospital. maybe i could go to the hospital, but then i'd owe the hospital lots of money because they saved my life. i could then kill myself for the money and pay off the debts! but that would completely defeat the purpose of having even been born but i didn't ask for that in the first place. OOOHHH THE POOR LITTLE WHINEY BOY DIDN'T ASK TO BE BORN. LISTEN TO HIM WHINE. THAT'S SO TYPICAL OF A KID WEARING A BLACK T SHIRT. I AM GOING TO WHOOP HIM FROM HERE TO HIGH HEAVEN and then i get sent to the hospital and can't pay the bills and YEAH SHUT UP. YOUR LOGIC MEANS NOTHING TO ME. I AM FRAT-BOY. suck me, frat boy. HE HE HEHE HE HEH EEHEHEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! feed me some intellectual nonsense: the people in the east had a large feast to prepare for their fast it ended up bad and everybody died (from malnutrition) because gods don't kill people like mercenaries. gods have no use for money. except that we can melt it down to make gold, and then melt the gold to make gold-gas, which will then float up into the atmosphere where the gods live with their pets and they walk around feeding brown pellets to everyone and smiles smiles smiles we ain't had it none better than this, the life is here and we're livin' it! hey! we're gods! we know right from wrong, and only consent to the wrong! (he maintains that it was consentual. the best of his life.) nobody asked him if it wasn't. (he maintains that it was consentual. the best of his life.) yell well i've been there, and i agree. (consentual?) yeah, consent to what's wrong, baby. (if it's what makes you happy.) oh boy, did it ever. (he said it made him pretty happy.) well sometimes poets are very arcane. (the guy with the funny beard?) yeah and he might be missing a tooth. (where?) in a different dimension. the one where i PUNCHED HIM IN THE MOUTH FOR ACTING LIKE HE HAD A CLUE WHAT WAS GOING ON AROUND HIM BUT JUST BEING ANOTHER PUNCH DOLL AND WHEN HE GETS KNOCKED OVER HE BOUNCES UP WAY UP HIGH TOWARD THE CLOUDS AND COMES BACK DOWN THE SAME. (yeah i met that guy) did he write poetry about you? (pat me on the head, treat me like a baby) yeah, baby, yeah yeah yeah. ON FIRE THEY SAY SHE'S ON FIRE THEY SAY SHE WANTS THE NEXT GUY TO BE HER FIRST. THE NEXT GUY EVEN IF HE'S THE SAME BUT SOMETIMES SAME MEANS THE BEST EVER KNOWN, YOU KNOW? (i know.) AND CHANCES ARE THAT IT WON'T EVEN BE THAT GOOD, IT WON'T BE MORE THAN A CONVERSATION PIECE FOR THE NEXT CENTURY, SOMETHING TO GET OUT OF THE WAY TO MOVE ON TO THE DARKER NASTIER PLACE TOWARDS WHICH WE ARE ALL HEADED (on that train's track?) SOME MAY CALL IT PROGRESS BUT PROGRESS SHOULDN'T BE NEGATIVE (who are you to say that it's negative?) I CAN'T SAY I KNOW WHERE IT'S TAKING US, I DON'T KNOW WHERE THE ULTIMATE DESTINATION WILL BE, I DON'T KNOW IF THERE ARE FIRES IN HELL OR GOLD IN HEAVEN BUT I FEEL LIKE I'M BEING TAKEN DOWN. shut up whine boy i've had enough out of you you're just jealous JEALOUS TO BE A PART OF SOMETHING I ABHOR. SURE. i can't allow myself to be jealous of anything that's not ideal. well then what's ideal, whine boy? something that's shiny and lasts forever. you like shiny things, whine boy? are you a turkey? tin foil's a lot cheaper than silver. munch munch munch. yeah so now you're saying i'm poor. spiritually, perhaps. YEAH WE'VE BEEN THROUGH THAT. WHAT ELSE DO YOU WANT? oh nothing. you're too stupid. great. no, i'm just kidding. what would you call 'spiritually poor'? not knowing what you're doing is wrong. really? ...ok... knowing what you're doing is wrong but doing it anyway. and what would you gain? ...i don't know, what? tin foil. ...but if you try to do what's right? silver and gold. yeah, i figured... should i shoot you in the head now? no, don't bother. *&#@%*&(@#%(*&))*&#@%*&)(#@%)*&@&#)*(%&)@(#%*&@#)(%*&@#% flower on the head of a cat. flowers that dismantled a bat. flower on top of a bus. bus that tours with a band. bus that drives down an interstate. bus that right turns and left turns. turns that make people move. turns that BUST A FUCKIN' MOVE. MOVES THAT MAKE WOMEN SCREAM. MOVES LIKE MILK FILLED WITH CREAM. GLEAM IN THE COLD SUMMER SUN. CREAM TURNS SOLID, a doo ron ron ron, a doo ron ron. flowers of disruption growling, hanging, sleeping. flowers of disruption are bats!~ flowers of disruption are dogs%#! flowers of disruption are a well-defined nose on a plain yet gorgeous face, smiling like only a nose can smile. knowing that only noses can smile. nosing like smiles on faces. facing the nose on the smile. placing the tail on the donkey. placemats of elegant fancy. fencing with laxative glee. "ack! i pooped my white suit." "en-garde!#@" *smash* *clang!* *gut!* OWWWW HhHAhAh i win! but when DON'T i? I NEVER DON'T!#% I NEVER DON'T WIN!#@%$ IT'S ALWAYS WIN WIN WIN WIN HERE THERE AND EVERYWHERE! AROUND AND ABOUT LIKE A PURPLE GOLD TROUT! ! YELLING AT MOM, GRAB THAT THING AND GET IT OUT OF MY FRANCE!! REVOLUTIONARY TENDENCIES ARE FOR THE BOHEMES!! DARKEN YOUR SKIN BEFORE YOU RETURN!! TAN BY THE CELLULAR TOWERS!! !! ANYTHING !! JUST DON'T COME BACK HERE, WHITEY FRENCHY GUARD-BASKET. TASKET CRISPY TANGY BARCLAY WITH A NICE FINISHING TOUCH. 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 #29 / 12.11.99 / trilobyte@hoe.nu tell your friends to strangle their neighbors with flodis