{begin} INTEGRAL.FUNCTIONS.009 dd/mm/yy = 15/05/96 {=========================================================================} ~|~ |~| ~|~ |~~ |~~ |~| |~| | | | | | | | . | | | | | | | | | |~ | | |~, |~| | _|_ | | | |__ |_| | | | | |__ |~~ | | |~| |~~ ~|~ ~|~ |~| |~| |~~ | | | | | | | | | | | | | |~ | | | | | | | | | | | `~| | |_| | | |__ | _|_ |_| | | __| {=========================================================================} {get FILE_ID.DIZ} Integral Functions is a bi-weekly electronic 'zine that encourages both stylistic and topical experimentation in all possible forms of literary self-expression. {get NET_SITE.NFO} Issues will be available on the FTP site approximately one month after their release. Please read the instructions on the site to be sure that you download and uncompress the files correctly. FTP: ftp.etext.org /pub/Zines/IntegralFunctions Gopher: gopher.etext.org Zines/IntegralFunctions If you are having trouble connecting, this site also has two alternate addresses: etext.archive.umich.edu OR locust.cic.net {=========================================================================} {get CONTENTS.LST} 00000001 Dreamscapes, 1996 00000010 Metaphorphasis 00000011 Collective: 2948643 00000100 Ugan-dan 00000101 Verbalized; Untitled; Jonathan was a finger faced puppet (CY) 00000110 Electroconvulsive Therapy (ECT) - [text fragment] 00000111 TEA-TIME 00001000 Pussy Puppets do the talking 00001001 rotENroses 00001010 Selected Poems: May 01, 1996 - May 15, 1996 00001011 (No Title) 00001100 Proposal 00001101 YERF 00001110 grave groove 00001111 Copyright Information {=========================================================================} Dreamscapes, 1996 (exerpts from dream journal - SPS) A young girl (5-7 years old) is going to ride her bicycle around the globe. I am her navigator, and sit behind her on her large bike, taking notes - typing them into a laptop computer. We are only 5 kilometres or less away from completing our trip - we are headed towards a large public park where we originally began our journey. The girl picks up the walkie-talkie and shouts, "We're almost there!" into it - and a boy on the other end who is waiting at the park says, "You'll never make it!!" As he speaks into the walkie-talkie, I can see him standing in the park. He is jealous, and doesn't want the girl to complete the journey. The girl begins to pedal furiously, as I give her directions and advice on how to avoid obstacles (construction ahead). We are forced on a slight detour, but we eventually make it, and many people (including the jealous boy) are at the park to welcome us back. * * * I was in my room at night, during a heavy thunderstorm, my light bulbs didn't work, so I used the illumination from the computer monitor in order to see. The phone rang, I picked it up, and a woman says (in french), "This is France calling, will you accept the charges?", and I reply, saying "Oui," with a wonderful french accent. The woman asks me something partly in french but then she starts over in english...I didn't understand, so I just said, "Yes." Then Karen was on the phone (she was on a vacation in France), and I told her that my light bulbs didn't work. * * * Fragmented images from movies and television - a plane explodes flying over the arctic, a life raft is deployed - inflating and floating down from the burning plane, landing softly on the snow below - there is a woman on her knees in the raft. A man leaps out of the plane above, skydiving towards the woman and the raft. The plane crashes, and the man runs through the air, curving and slowing down, landing on the snow mid-step. He runs towards the woman. They are husband and wife. He holds her tightly. She is pregnant, going into labour - holding her stomach in pain, knees spread apart. The man says, "We can't have the baby here, it'll freeze to death!" He then uncovers a circular lid under the snow (opening into the sewer system). He opens the lid, and tells his wife to climb down into the sewer: "It's warm down there," he says. They sit at the bottom of the staircase, with him besid her, the sewage water floats by, steaming. The woman sits part way into the sewage, it goes up to the base of her sternum. The baby will be born underwater - "I can't give birth here," she says. "You don't have a choice!" he says, pulling off her pants, then removing her underwear. The woman suddenly has a large (3 feet long) fish held leaning on her shoulder, and she says, "This is too much to eat for the both of us." Her husband stands in the sewage up to his liver, and says, "You know dear, this may not be an appropriate time, but I have to admit that I am getting pretty horny seeing you like this!" He unzips his pants as he stares at his naked wife. * * * A dark, maybe candlelit room (no flicker of light as candles do though) with maybe half a dozen male figures, all moving around (as if it were a party). Suddenly two identical but unrecognizable men pucker their lips (light is shining on them, and my view zooms in on their faces), and they very forcefully kiss each other. At the speed at which their faces went towards each other, they would have (in reality) broken several teeth and perhaps their noses...But what happened instead was, as their faces hit, they went into each other, becoming one face - it was like a metaphor, like two unrelated concepts or personalities in my head fused, snapping together in my mind. The force and spontaneity of this imagery caused me to wake up very suddenly, and as I woke up I did not feel tired or groggy - it felt as if I had been awake for hours...full of energy. * * * I am frantically flipping through dozens of pages of my own writing, trying to revise it, or come to some sort of conclusion. Kept going back and forth...confusion. * * * I was a social worker, trying to talk a girl out of committing suicide - she wouldn't eat. She said, "God won't let me." (It was Good Friday.) I told her that God can't stop her from doing anything, and that we all had choices, and that she could eat anytime she wanted to. A nearby vending machine spat out an orange, a sandwich, and a can of Coke. * * * I was playing a holographic video game - the holograms can be projected anywhere, so I set it up in the stairwell of an apartment building. I was fighting with a holographic monster, when the holographic projection unit suddenly failed, screwing up the imaging system. In order to compensate, the machine scanned the nearest person into its memory bank (me), and used that as the projection. So I was fighting a copy of myself, and everything go really confusing. I was kicking my twin in the face etc., when I suddenly realized that I was the hologram. Someone told me to feel around my ear for abnormal skin growth. * * * Cylla Von Teidemann (sp?), me with her, conceiving ideas for fashion and dance performance. I was telling her about a dream that I had about clothing that a girl was wearing - it was a sliver blouse made of unknown material, it was like a mercurial liquid steel. Whenever the dancer who was wearing the blouse moved, it oozed, then reformed into its original place when the dancer stopped moving. The environment was white, brightly lit, with no perspective or horizon (Cylla's photography studio?). * * * The Kraft company now sells family sized cans of Kraft Dinner, so you can simply heat it up on the stove or in the microwave without having to cook the noodles and add that powder cheese stuff. It is my job to design their new advertising campaign. * * * I am in a grocery store talking to a truck driver about saving money for retirement. He is saying that I could make $100,000 in working for three years. I am sort of smirking at him, because I don't care. I have no plans to retire. {=========================================================================} Metaphorphasis ^~^~^~^~^~^~^~ Metaphor stands at the center of the art of poetry--and, in fact, the center of ALL creative activity. In a metaphor, one object or idea is presented as a replacement for another. (A simile is a more EXPLICIT metaphor: An embrace is like an eye.) Examples: ^~^~^~^~^ Sweetness is a skin. Emotion is a cloud. Wood is a flavour. Hair is a sound. Snake is a button. {=========================================================================} 'Collective: 2948643' (angela dreamblur) ZOMBOT dangley figurine creeping moaning dragging dead meat (feet) grey flesh decay (and it shows) bone segments expose drooling battery fluids chips and protect plates assorted outstick severed wiring sparks occasional organic / robotic meld MECHmanic circuit-animate over all, compute commands what was command center, once natural now off( life )line stumble fumble towards some thing --- TWIG gleamstream light beam illuminate chemical coated rottened meat creature framework bulge apparent stretched thinly tight weak intentional form deteriation false eye-lie meal appeal give in, give over swing pretty stride the end turn, re-turn bye --- creep-crawl, and butter-fly filth clot navigation bare bile basics exposed (and i exposed to them) collective waste space place others fish nauseate visual icktaste oblivious to their ugliness or possibly nonconcencerntated unspeckulate castle stands differently glowshowing defiantely laughing --- ITCH BLEEDS INTERNAL sensetory agitension particles inside reside irritatickle painfeel grind --- {=========================================================================} Ugan-dan ~~~~~~~~ (JRLC) I do what I do And I do what I can I do what I can Because I'm Ugan-dan {=========================================================================} -= Verbalized =- Curtis Yateman Hello... uhm.. excuse me.. Hi. My name is.. well.. my name is not really important but I'd just like you to know that.. well.. I know you very well now. I have been watching you for a very long time now and.. well.. I admire you very much.. no.. thats not it.. I think I've.. well... I think I love you. Where are you going? The knife? Its just for you... Just for you.. here. Take it... Oh. What have i done... FIN --- Untitled -> Curtis Yateman I broke apart the ones who kept me here I'm lost and decayed and deflated Stored inside the head of those I love Kept safe my self admission Kept expressed --- < Jonathan was a finger faced puppet > Curtis Yateman The hooks in his back kept him in a certain bond with those who created him, he had never really noticed them until he reached the tender age of about 12. He looked at himself one day and realized that he held no individuality, no sense of himself. Dammit, he exclaimed. Jonathan dyed his skin blue and felt the hooks tighten. The pulled at his muscles and he felt himself bleed. Jonathan sought help. He went to his good friend ( well, only friend, now that his skin was blue ) Todd, who had and abundance of fingers growing from every pore in his body. Todd was a bit older, 24 years. Todd also did not have many friends because of his deformity. Todd told Jonathan that if he made himself abnormal ( or ' freakish ' as society liked to say ) enough, the hooks would pull themselves into oblivion. Todd then offered to do the work himself. He took a purple switchblade knife and cut off 18 fingers that were growing from his kneecaps. He then used the paste that one would use in Kindergarden and pasted the fingers to Jonathan's boyish face. Jonathan thanked Todd and then sang in glee as the hooks began to pull. They pulled, and pulled, and.. WHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! Jonathan was lifted into the sky and floated away, for his individual happyness took him to heaven. The only proof of his existance was a sign left in Jonathan's room that exclaimed: " DON'T CONFORM " FIN --- {=========================================================================} Electroconvulsive Therapy (ECT) - [text fragment] ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ In the 1930s, a Hungarian psychiatrist named Ladislas Meduna speculated that epilepsy and schizophrenia could not coexist in the same body. On the basis of this observation, which turned out to be inaccurate, Meduna theorized that it might be useful to induce epilepsylike seizures in schizophrenic patients. Initially, a drug was used to trigger seizures. However, by 1938, two Italian psychiatrists (Cerletti & Bini) demonstrated that it was safer to elicit the seizures with electric shock. Thus, modern electroconvulsive therapy was born, creating a peculiar tribuate to the old advertising slogan "better living through electricity". {=========================================================================} "TEA-TIME" (Ceasill Mortimurque) Two beings are seated at a white, wicker table. In a lovely, lively garden. The atmosphere is that of freshness, chirping birds, flowers, peace, beauty, NATURE. Being A being: a (stereo-)typical little british fellow Being X being: DEATH (clad in it's usual robe w/ scythe .. gleaming pearly white) A : Would you care for some tea? X : [no response] A : Ohhh, not thirsty eh?.. quite alright.. quite alright.. a crumpet then?.. a biscuit perhaps? X : [no response] A : understandable old bean.. we'll just forget the munchiwunchies then.. so what's new with you eh?.. been busy?.. collecting souls and what not? X : [no response] A : no.. me either .. though I've been sprucing up the old gardenia a wee bit.. looking quite lovely isn't it?.. the petunias sprouted up superb!.. ah.. mighty fine petunias they are.. much much better than expected......... X : [no response] A : been keeping up with current events? i saw a program on the telly a few nights ago about.... X : shut up {=========================================================================} Pussy Puppets do the talking (found poem) nihil fluid exchanggnge he smiles his hair in a large spike as if ti impal3 thritty messiah ideas opi9nions and anaylsisys mixed eassy out and on her way up PAGE 28FREE! No293Goons bash tourists on New Year's (Police didn't immediatlyas a hate crime OOPS six years after I was at courtesy of my mother reader's forum that i hadbeen the victimof a she can be found at Supreme Court harming him within his own government GRAND O P E N I N G S T O R E W I D E S A L E It's a Global Thing!3 second to none fully liscenseeirnd the spa HORNY? HORNY? HORNY? HORNY? HORNY? HORNY? HORNY? HORNY? HORNY? PRAISE THE LORD smile proudly! (?) Nitrous Oxide (l a u g h i n g g a s) bleaching click on oprah fat adopted lesbiance ant their thin adopted mothers i want her to love me just the way i am i wanter her to lose 50 poutns and get a man BRAAAACK hug me mom dont tuch me FATSO! snacktimeeeee! uh hoooo broccoli stick! to late too late?>!!!!! i was out of only five m intues resolutionsss.! bad hairstlye was sutptects undoing we had been shooting the breeze and i dismissed her comment. it reminded me ofm y great grandfatehrs jokes about celebriteds it makes sense, she said, that we take out people at their work whtne homo phobia think about their possilble public image. liquid eyeliner over the pencil-says he knows some people argue that female impersonators mock women, but he doesn't buy it. "We don't make fun of women, [those images] ludicrous."""" a man invented high heels dont you think we should be tortured by them too? but what about torture by ridicule? in the late 1970s and 80s, 2was drage a dirty word but the tuck doesn always work opera goat queen came bathing sut a guy throws off the that's when the testicles get pusehd up inside the body cavity and the penis is wrapped underneat = there is no room for hard-ons duct tape B E A U T Y TI PS F R O M T H E T O P: 889!@ takes 90 minutes or less LA From G-spot mystery to ejaculation Pus Ppets d the tkingin pussy puppppy {=========================================================================} "rotENroses" \ . / . x z y \ b c a z . y _______ / c _______ a . . x / \ z \ / \ x < rot > / . ( roses ) . b c y . z \_______/ \ a \_______/ c y . x / b a . b \ . / . {=========================================================================} Selected Poems: May 01, 1996 - May 15, 1996 (by Gideon Hartwell) The following collection of fifteen poems, written in the first half of this month are submitted for the perusal of your readers. Most were written very spontaneously, either scribbled in notebooks or on scraps of loose paper, or sometimes written directly on the computer. Although most of them are nothing more than small gardens of imagery, some originate from real events that occurred on the day that they were written (poem numbers six, seven, and thirteen are examples of this). Poem numbers fourteen and fifteen were made by pulling individual words at random from a jar. ----- ONE. he conversion feeling as though loving a mannequin combing his eyebrows with moistened finger- tip, wanting to crash land on planet feminine (unsure of own origin) hope returns a soggy worm clinging to the hook (a life with so much misery enough to write a book) often thinking of cutting it off himself a large pair of scissors later cured with a vitamin ----- TWO. it is before the day awakes, that i walk down the side of this mountain, following the somersaulting rivers, skating down slopes of pebbles, taking detours of sporadic/ spontaneous interest. it isn't until hours later that i climb back to you, waking you with the subtle smell of melting butter, forcing you to share so many of my dimensions. eternity isn't enough. ----- THREE. somewhat like white roses building an icelandic garden blooming rocks their reflective petals hold my eyes playing the game of staring the game of sharing eternities collision of realities hope to become something anthropomorphic in comparison to anything my death like a smile of sincere amusement from rita hayworth with whom i dance the rocks like eggs reminding me of beginnings keeping in tune with what vibrates which includes everything as far as our accumulated knowledge is concerned sensual rocks do you shiver when i rub you your heat transfers to me higher concentration to lower the bridge those spirits that sleep underneath tickle car tires giving them good luck in a world that needs it desperately your minimalist stare scanning the fractals of my iris your surface area with the pretense of endurance soap films shattered on blades of grass as if i say hugging your shores while your thoughts inundate me ----- FOUR. december 25, 2043 a.d. (for ron scrivani) raising glasses of cider we almost toast his forever humility, standing beside apple tree hologram flickers rotates in phases, our clockwork universe shudder, thinking of days when actions spoke louder (like that guy they nailed to the tree) whatizname? (thoughts ferment, as the cider) "anyway," someone says, "happy birthday, isaac newton!" in praise, thanking him: we are the equal and opposite. ----- FIVE. the water whispers her time away hair that sheds songs echo back from the depths of sink happiness twirls down the tornado chamber and away clogging memory ----- SIX. notebook studies frames her face. ......----- -------- ____/_| \' \ '. / { ; \ breathing out the window \ [ ; ; ; ======> delicate gasp \ { ; ; in inhale her '. {\ ; ; dioxide | ; tasting | ; the curves in her [ ';'==----- neck |###### ----- my spine |########### tasting fine ######@@@@!!! hairs on her neck ---------------======= when closes window hold somewhat breath for the rest of the /-------- ... ride /breathing through our / noses === | [ | hair falling into place | of beauty | ==== | ==== -----== ideal | == . - '. . licking my cheek ' / | [ . is what i imagine . / [' . and i pretend nothing ' / /// ' happened but [' / [ ' ; . look and smile later [ .' /'[ ' ''[ ; ' [ ; ; asking: "what was that?" sucking my chin. ------ SEVEN. i am standing behind two women kissing and rubbing each other on the escalator look- ing the other way talking if they were MOTOS i would do the same thing ----- EIGHT. prostitution (strictly business) her knickers explode with however i do agree under these circumstances that your proposal for controversial theory under no conditions does this apply to the insertion of implementation of these tools it comes down to one question sincerely in conclusion your product is or is not satisfactory the fee for our services does not include the equipment but i can throw in a few freebies if you are interested in the deal we have just discussed her body collapses in a wet heap of exhaust ----- NINE. us.) our heads connected through by mono- filament unable to be seen but to small to transmit (and you said). yeah, like, uh. i beg your pardon sweet kindness (if ----- TEN. vanquish noise until the only sound is the crackling of the sun ----- ELEVEN. wall sky flowers pressing up against flattened breasts become the hill side bulldozed arteries of erosion ----- TWELVE. hair a mesh of butterfly ghosts we'll migrate north ride the whales conquer icebergs the animals think your head is a strange fruit i am the only one that tastes pollen in your eye- lashes ----- THIRTEEN. a car passes, loaded with grinning figures; briefly at me. ----- FOURTEEN. in the city where the dirt snow melts keep a beautiful water lily cause an organic splash to shoot through the deep end of the body methane echoes ----- FIFTEEN. participate american bladder breast instrument and friend control computer head smile echo would end ----- {=========================================================================} (No Title) (Leo X) 'Kwack, Kwack' exclaimed Teak, whilst waddling about like a ducky-duck would. Teak's Master had always thought it odd the way that his dog kwacked and walked like that. And he'd never quite known why he would often find Teak flapping his paws, or returning home dripping of pond-sog. So, he just stared stupidly, as his pet dog waddled away in a ducky-dog way. Teak was, as had become customary, taking a trip to visit his kwacky friends at a nearby pond. The fact that they would always fly away didn't seem to bother him. Thought would have revealed that they were afraid of a dog, if Teak were caring or capable enough of doing it. The joy of pond-floating was more than enough for Teak anyhow. Teak's Master had always been disturbed by his pet's behaviour. But could never quite figure out what or why exactly it was. The Teak puzzle always managed to elude him. So, after much internal debate and time, Teak's Master chose to bring his dog in for a visit to an 'Animalus Psychologis'. After all, he had taken more malard-madness from Teak than he could deal with. The Psychologist determined -- after a quaint chat, and various profile examinations -- that Teak, for reasons not yet known, thought himself to be a duck. Now this did not come as much of a surprise to Teak's Master. On the contrary, it seemed incredibly obvious. What a silly fooly Master he felt himself to be. The Psychologist recommended that Teak have a few other healthy dogs for canine company, and to deny Teak contact with real ducks. Teak's Master was happily obedient. He purchased two dogs, and created a prison of sorts out of his home. It was hell to Teak from the very start. Anti-duck confinement. Imprisoned in a canine training centre. Teak wished only to float freely amongst the reeds like a real big, glowing swan. Weeks passed before Teak had his escape opportunity. The Master was off some place, doing some thing, and the doggies were quite absorbed in chasing a ball about elsewhere. Teak, being quite an intelligent dog, imitated The Master's method of door opening -- that is, the handle turn method -- and... freedom! Teak waddled like the wind to the pond. Oh, how he had missed the glorious sparkling pond. Teak kwacked a kwack of glee! He playfully dipped his webbed feet into the shimmering pond water. It felt cool, natural, beautiful. Teak, contemplating a full-body dunk, didn't even feel a pitter patter of bullets tear through his skull. There wasn't enough time for him to. What was once the head of a dog, became a scattered assortment of flesh bits 'n 'bits, blood, and hair. Teak's Master laughed triumphantly and spread the reeds to get a better look at his kill. Revelation hit him like an ice cream truck (wham!). He sobsobsobbed and boohoohooed. (Because he blamed the ducks for Teak's condition, he had developed hatred for them. And so, he had also developed an interest in the sport of duck hunting. The possibility of this error was never even considered.) Even a mad Teak was better than no Teak at all! It was quite an upsetting couple of minutes for Teak's former Master. That is, until he realized that he would never have to worry about Teak again, and he that had two sane, barking, drooling dogs at home anyway. The drooly dogs Master happily skipped home. He and his two dogs lived a lovely, joyful life..... while Teak's disfigured remains decomposed into the bank of what was once his favourite pond. {=========================================================================} Proposal (by Astrix Beauton) "I would like you to be me," she said, clasping me with all possibility, as if my ego would collapse without the aid of a demolition crew. Her smile would be enough. I suggested that "we can be us instead," in a way that denied conversion (something transparent in her eyes). In some ways, when our heads collide, I half expect customers to give witness. It happens daily, this. When desire waterfalls, a suitable impetus, one could transpire secrets, secrets of harmonious unloving, where light is absorbed more than usual ("...the crotch of your pants soaked with urine,") is how I described the moment to her, unlike others previous. Not understanding, she said something like, "We are cast from the same mould," which made me laugh inside. My hands plunged through the gaps under her armpits, wrapping around in unified informity. "Are all like you?" "I am all," I answered, as if what she said were true. Her chin impressed my shoulder ditch, talking behind each other's backs, as if we were two. {=========================================================================} "YERF" (anonymous) It was like a yerbit I tell you. Yerbits! but like no yerbit I ever seen or been. Know what I mean? Not even them mutant yerbits you some- times see javexing with the Wurgumpets! Might as well just say that It was like nothing that I layed my eyes upon. I should. I really should. But it wasn't! It was like, more or less than that you see. Anyway, I might just as well give up on attempting to explain the un-explainable. That is, attempt to bring into the realm of reason, that which doesn't belong, nor even fit there. But It -- I will refer to It as 'Yerf' -- also had a real nice set of bloobyhumpetts on it. I been looking for a pair like that for reewps! Reewps and reewps and reewps! I tried to make it a deal -- barter with it if you will -- but it would accept neither Ribders, nor Sazzits. Which basically left me with nothing to offer The Yerf. I would have done the same in It's situation. {=========================================================================} "grave groove" (LJ Mortimurque) [dance/rap beat throughout] do ya.. . DIG IT ( DIG IT - DIG IT ) can ya.. . DIG IT ( DIG IT - DIG IT ) can y'all.. . DIG IT ( DIG IT - DIG IT ) [repeat many times] get down {=========================================================================} {get COPYRITE.NFO} Each work within this volume is copyright 1996, by its respective author. This file may be reproduced and distributed in its current form or as a printed document. {=========================================================================} INTEGRAL.FUNCTIONS.009 dd/mm/yy = 15/05/96 {end}