textfiles/magazines/HOE/hoe-0180.txt

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                          >> "I'm Complicated" <<
                              by -> Lilnilhil

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

 "Ut! Says I!"
 8/11
 (An intro, of sorts)

 ...so I'm sittin here on this plane right? And there's this guy in front of
 me with his son.  And I'm lookin at the back of their heads. (Their heads
 being damn well near in my lap thanks to these stupid reclining chairs.) And
 this kid, this guy's son, he can't be older than 14. He looks like he's
 taller than me though, and the little bastard ought to start shaving too.
 Anyway I'm looking at these two. And I realize that I think I hate them.
 Maybe it's the way they talk to eachother. Maybe I'm jealous. That's
 probably it. Jealousy. These two are just so ..simple. You can tell just by
 looking at 'em that they've already got this kids whole life planned out.

 He'll go to some prep school, be valedictorian or whateverthefuck. He'll be
 boosted into Harvard or M.I.T. ..daddy will foot the bill. Then of course
 he'll snap up 'Dream Job', earn his pension, pay his bills, scrub the grill,
 and fly home from his latest business trip to see his bag of food wife and
 his 2.5 kids.

 Then one day he'll cross without looking and he'll be hit by a 3-ton bus.
 Ha!

 ..I dunno.. why am I talking about these assholes?
 Becuz they're simple. That's why. And dammit, I wanna be simple too.
 ..But if course.. I'm complicated.

 Sorry mom, but I don't have a job because I'm really too damn lazy to make a
 real effort to go get one. Sorry dad, I'm too little to be on the fuggin
 football team, and I don't want your 'family business'. Sorry lord, but I
 can't be worshipping some guy that I don't know is there just becuz the
 bible says it's my ass if I even think yer not there. What can I say? I
 don't like being threatened.

  Sorry me, I've let you down time and time again. We both know that half the
 shit that happens to us is really our fault. And the rest is also our fault,
 just not directly. And I know I've realy fucked up a few times. And I know I
 should've paid more attention to some things and less to others. And i know
 i should've listened to you more.

 Just shut up an listened.

 And I know i've never, really cares.

 But I'm trying.

 I'm working my ass off on it. An i need your help.

 o.k. me?

 kewl, nice talkin' to myself.

 -----------------------

 "Crap: A Retrospective"
 9/4

 Today was so wierd, god, holy moly, hot-damn, wierd. I wuz supposed to call
 Zoe last week on a thursday night, but my sister fugged that up for me. I
 tried callin' her 3 more times last week, couldn't get ahold of her. So i'm
 feelin' like shit an it's 2nd period, fuggin Spanish class. And I'm in
 bullshit-mode, just trying to survive another day. And this girl two seats
 away from me asks me what my name is. I tell her 'Danny' an she says; "I
 like you Danny."

 An.. i had no response to that. She asked me what grade i was in an all, I'm
 older than her and i was still in bull-shit mode so i wasn't very talkative,
 neway she didn't say anythin' else after that. I think i'll talk to her tho.
 Tomarrow or whatever, i dunno.

 Btw: A real quick thing about this journal: I'll either be reading this off
 to someone and then trashing it, or I'll just tear pages out now and then
 and burn them. Either way I'm not lettin' my mom see this and i could give a
 flying fuck about that whole 'when i die someone will read this and think
 'wow'! -thing. I mean for me this is all about self release. So that's why
 i'm not journaling everything, everyday, all the time. -No offense.

 ---------------------

 "Fuck Your Arms Race"
 9/8

 Zoe called the other night. I think she was on sometin and she told me to
 call her the next day. So i did around 7:30, no answer. I'll prolly call her
 today or somethin'. I dunno, i sent her the tape with the songs on it. I
 think it werkt out pretty well.

 ..Had a ver' ver' wierd dream the other night. There was this girl in it an
 she's just like this freak that goes to my school. And in my dream she was a
 witch. I'm gonna use the whole dream in a story I'm starting. So in other
 words, you don't get to see it yet.

 "The more you shop the more you earn."-Some random day. they're all the
 same.

 I'm at the mall right now. I've decided to ditch school tuday, it's like 9
 in the morning and I just noticed the wierdest thing. There's like 100+ old
 people walking around this mall. None of the stores open for another couple
 of hours and there's all these all these old freex just walking around. Some
 of em have headphones on .. I dunno, they must come here in the morning
 before all the goths, an g's, an druggies show up, ta get exercise er
 whatever. Holy shit florida sux.

 I gotta get outta here.

 -----------------------

 -This was the intro to me first journal.

  Alright, here I go. Never done this before but it seems like a good idea.
 Zoe says she keeps a journal, an if it helps her it can probobly help me
 'eh? I'm not sure what I'm gonna write about though. I mean I guess I'll
 just stick in here whatever iz on me mind. I dunno. I think I'll start off
 with this thing that happened to me a few weeks ago. It's rilly hard to talk
 about, but I'll see what I can do.

 -just a normal day, I woke up an everything was like it was when I went to
 sleep. I had the same enemies, I had the same friends. An I guess that wuz
 part of the problem, the mundaneness of it all. Neway my mom started yelling
 at me around noon. She always does, but this time was different. She just
 wouldn't let up. She wanted to know why I was sleeping all the time and why
 I was so depressed. She asked me what was wrong with me.

 What's wrong with me?

 I never thought anything was wrong with me. I always thought everyone else
 was fugged up an I was pretty normal. But she planted this in my head.
 What's wrong with me? I couldn't take her shit nemore without putting my
 fist through a wall so I figured I'd get the hell outta there. I started
 walking, an at first I was gonna go to a friends house, but jesus. What
 friend could help me with this? So I went to this place where I go to think.
 It's these woods that has train trax running through it. I just sat there
 for hours, thinking about that question.

 What's wrong with me?

 It started to rain, but I couldn't move. I just sat there. What's wrong with
 me?

 I started to wonder what I was doing there, in the rain, in the woods. An I
 realized.

 I was waiting for my train.

 It shocked the hell out of me that I would even think of doing something
 like that. But then it got dark from the storm an I started to wonder again.
 Would I do it? could i do it? I thought about it for i dunno how long. An I
 came to the conclusion that hell yes I would. The train comes at 5:30, it
 was about 5 then. I realized how little time left I had, how little anyone
 cared about anything, an how little i cared about everything. And I just
 started crying. For the end of my life I started crying.

 For a way out. for the ending of the ending of it all.

 With the rain coming down, I sat there on the tracks an bawled my eyes out.
 Something about the rain.. I dunno. Nobody can see your cryin when it's
 raining.

 I didn't care anymore. I didn't care if some asshole thought I was a pussy.
 I didn't care if some prick was mad at me cuz I was gone. I didn't care
 about what would happen. and I didn't care what was wrong with me.

 About a million emotions ran through my head in that half hour. I screamed
 as loud as I could, I threw rocks an broke things an went fuggin berserk.
 I cursed out the god they said put me here. The world that wants me as a
 scapegoat. That wants me to succeed, but only in what they need.

 5:30 came around.  no train.

 What's wrong with me?

 ..so I walk home, beaten again.
 ..Not today Danny    
 ...and probobly never.

 Think I'll stop there for today.

 -----------------------

 -A small thing i did for ev.

 One day evie got up an said
 'It's 3 am. An I'm not in bed."
 So she hopped on her pooter an thought with glee,
 I wonder if nihil's got sumpin fer me.
 She hit on the box, an up came the screen
 but the name lilnilhil, was nowhere to be seen.
 This rilly sucked, it sucked you see,
 cuz she had sent nihl sumpin, previously.
 And nihil promised to send sumpin back, he would,
 but lilnilhil, wasn't sure that he could.
 It's not that he was a dumbass, or a borderline crazy,
 and not even the fact that he's completely lazy.
 It's just that evie's lil sumpin was kewl as shit,
 an there was no way, that he could top it.
 He tried to plea, he tried to explain,
 he tried blaming it on his mom, (who's friggin insane.)
 But evie expected this, she understood.
 She knew nihl would send, like a good lub dub would.
 An so nihly realized, he was missing the point,
 ..sorry, but the only word that ryhmes with that one is joint. :o)
 It didn't matter if he sent crap, that was rilly no good.
 All dat mattered is he tried, an did what he could.
 So evie me lub, this one's for you.
 i know it ain't much, but it's the best i could do.
 And as i sit here and type, i recollect.
 I think i'll put "ut.", for the subject.

 ----------------

 -Lyrics to "Zoe"

 She likes velvet, she doesn't like skin.
 When your head's full of endings, you forget how to begin.
 And she clears my mind, like a 44.
 Well this bloody mess is, a comin' back for more.
   And somewhere a candle is burnin in a window.
   I'm gonna get there, just gotta live a little longer Zoe.
   And somewhere an angel, cries into her pillow.
   An somethin inside me, says ta get up and go.
 The end of the road, is just a u-turn.
 Hey i don't care, and i'll never learn.

 -----------------------

 -Time 2 wake up it's 6 o'clock get ta skool boy

 unpack n get crackn gotta earn it ya war toy.
 ropin the dope in and i cast my vote with a molotov
 heads up, another nuclear problem, solved.
 They give the order an they have their fun
 but we live in the lie, and we'll point the gun.
 Drop the bombs kill us all shit no ones payin' attention
 so c'mon let 'em fall if it'll end your recession.
 Behind your blind eyes the winter soldier returns
 the ak recoil pops him as your dollar bills burn.

 -----------------------

 -Communism, why the hell not?

 I've noticed a little something about the rich folks in america these days.
 It's like they all need to be victims. They all want to be car-jacked at gun
 point in a 'bad neighborhood' by a black man named Joe who's had half of his
 teeth knocked out by a Boston cop in '74. They want to ride in the ambulance
 and be checked out at the ER because Joe might've pushed 'em a little to
 rough while they were taking their sweet ass time getting the fug outta the
 car. Then they want the whole thing blasted across the news at prime time,
 they wanna see themselves cry on camera, they want to tell the whole story
 at dinner parties year in year out, they wanna see Joe stripped, strangled,
 mangled, and buried. And then they want you to give a shit.
 Well i don't give a shit. And i hope to god you don't.

 -----------------------

 A state of the mind.

 So this is my novel, so this is my life. All actors in the theater of
 reality. For what is reality but the manmande aspect of time, all
 nonexistent yet so obviously real.

 Existentialism, the elite, the rebel, the cause in general, all of these are
 simply put, fiction. Nobody is real. Call it a bad thing. But it's oh so
 true. We're all a facad, a journey to something we can't even see. Fuck the
 light, where's the tunnel?

 So maybe everyone's a goner right? Maybe I'm the only real one and your
 bangin away at me just for kicks. Well y'know, that's one sick way of
 lookin' at things, on your behalf and mine. I have what you may call angst.
 But it's funny you've got a word for something i yearn to be so specific, so
 mine, so original, so me.

 So me, myself, and I, we'll rebel, sure, what the fuck. Right? We'll all
 break conformity together, therefore makin' our own scene, our own little
 tale. And that will be existence. That will be my death. Just a short
 pointless venture into the nominally mad.

 Born at Mercy Hospital, Baltimore Maryland, January 24th, 1981, at 1:00 in
 the morning. My mom had only been in labor for about an hour and a half, she
 always says i was "eager to get out of there". But immediately after i was
 born i was rushed into the next room, apparently the placenta cord had
 somehow wrapped itself around my neck and I wasn't breathing. To make
 matters worse there is usually (the exception being in the case of a
 C-section) a period in labor called the afterbirth when the lining that the
 baby was created in also comes out. Well, suprise, suprise, I came out still
 inside that little bag. I brought me 'lil shack out into the world with me.

 I was then taken to Johns Hopkins hospital, notorious worldwide as arguably
 the very best hospital in the world. Wherein i proceeded to scare the hell
 out of my parents when for about two weeks i "shit blood". Happy birthday
 Dan.

 I was named Gary, after my father, a shitty deal indeed. Middle name was
 Daniel, after the bible sotry of Daniel in the lions' den. (there's me mum
 for you.)

 Last name, Robinson.

 Over the next few years I guess I survived pretty much like any other kid.
 We all moved down to Florida so my dad could have a better job. Life had
 it's ups and downs, I cracked my head open 4 times being the little rumbler
 i was, it earned me a pair of glasses. I was sortof a quiet kid. Did what i
 was told, did what everyone else did. When i was 7 or 8 my christian-private
 school kindergarten teacher tried to have me held back because she didn't
 think i could read and write well enuf for first grade.

 ..My parents had me put in public school the next year.

 Around that time me two idiot parents decided it was time they got a
 divorce, mom got custody of the kids, dad got remarried.

 My two sisters always did a good job of keeping me in my place, as they
 still do. Jenny, who is now 22, suffered from a multitude of illnesses, both
 mental and physical. But now has them mainly under control. Jessica, or
 "keka", as i dubbed her when i was first learning to talk, is a year younger
 than me. And the baby of the family, other milestones and points of interest
 are soon to follow. And i wrote this sentence to take up space.

 1993- House destroyed by tornado. My room hit worst, relocated then from
       Pinellass Park Fl, to Safety Harbor Florida. Where I reside to this
       day.

 1995- Expelled from high school in my freshman year. Allegedly for
       "distributing hate material". Fact is, I was writing a zine with me
       pal Jason and we brought it to school one day to show to a few
       friends. Turns out I slipped in a 'racial slur' somewhere's among an
       article where i was listing just about every bad word i knew.
       Instantly I'm a rascist, a pervert, and a fuckup. Amen. Praise Jesus.

 1997- I meet a girl named Zoe.

 -Later that year- I literally try to meet Zoe. But i think we'll go into
                   that some other time.

 Meet the new boss, same as the old boss.
 What i use to think was me now just a fading memory.
 I looked her right in the eye, and said goodbye.
 Cuz i was up above it. Now I'm down in it.
 Do your work/Go to school
 Scream! Die! Live! Die!
 Live! Die! Lie! Lie! Lie!
 Live by the lie so you can die in your mind. Fight for your mother fuckin'
 right to party. I'm a commie, your a commie, wouldn't ya like to be a commie
 too?     ....Do i make any fucking sense whatsoever?

 His hair blew in the wind, mimicking the spark of his zippo, But his fiery
 mane failed to hide the lines in his face as he lowered his glasses and gave
 it all away.

 Let us begin.

 Where am i? Right. Madness.

 Man, the Marlboro man, that's gay. And not even gay in that trendy, slap yo
 mama's church lady smirk right the fuck offa her smug lil face and drop her
 into cyco gear. YEEHA! ..way.

 Just gay. Not to offend NE-1. oi.

 Peace man, just chill for a second.

 Ten times a cigarette equals everything you ever thought was true is now
 false, bullshit.

 But some have an affliction towards the bullshit or it gives them a gnarly
 rash (teh...."gnarly") anyway... I was saying?

 Bah, fug it.

 Break all your rules, live like there's no fugging tomarrow, and search for
 that one thing that makes you happy. Life is one huge mother of a bitch.
 Thank your lucky stars though, 'cuz it's all only temporary.
 Today I realized that i have no enemies. Zero, that magic number poppin' up
 again. I was walkin' into the store when i saw this kid.. was sure i
 recognized him from somewhere. He asked me;

 "Hey man, got a light?" a light. Course I got a light, I dug into my pocket
 for my 'commie' Zippo and I asked him;

 "Didn't you hit me in the face once?" He looked up at me as he sparked up
 his Newport.

 "ummm... no-"

 "Yeah. I had glasses. 'member?"

 He gets the cigarette lit, looks over to see if his friend is almost out of
 the store. Then he hands me my lighter back. He shakes my hand and says; "My
 bad, sorry."

 For a split second it rushes into my mind. The scene completely mapped out.
 I've got his hand in my left, a steel Zippo in my right. I'd deck the
 bastard, so damn hard he'd never know what hit him. Knock that shit menthol
 right the hell outta his mouth.

 But i didn't. I let his hand go, put me Zippo away, and told him as i blew a
 puff of smoke in his eyes;

 "No problem... I probably would've done the same thing." Yeah, the fuck i
 would've. So there's that lucky number ...that lucky smoke.

 And maybe it's a good thing, i dunno. To have no enemies. They always kept
 you in your place though, enforced your boundaries for you. Insulted you and
 filled you in on your faults.

 But shit, isn't that what friends are for?

 He would've known EXACTLY what hit him.

 I even had the line set:

 "Next time try hittin' me when I'm lookin' ...mother-fucker."

 Walked up to the busstop this mornin' and suprised the hell out of myself.

 These two girls were standin' there talkin, just like every day, 'cept i
 don't really have a clue about who they are, and I've never uttered a single
 word to either of 'em. So anyway I walk up to the prettier one who's puttin
 on the make up and say "Hullo.", ask her name, shake her hand, and tell her
 I'm Danny. She's Michelle or some shit, hell if I remember. Shook her
 friends hand, she said she was Taylor. Then i told them "Yeah, we never talk
 and shit, sorry." And I laughed and they gave me the expected look.

 Left them there, befuddled beyond words. But they recovered and were talkin'
 about which guy they suddenly realized they "loved" that morning a few
 minutes later. So no harm done, 'eh? They probably think I'm crazy, but
 y'know what?

 So do I.

 And i couldn't give a fuck if you paid me to.

 A head full of fascism
 Anarchy on the brain
 Mass rumination
 Finally I'm insane
 Weapons now deployed
 Sickness I enjoyed
 Nothing fills the void
 Body now destroyed

 Take the cliche
 into your hands
 smash it
 against the brick wall.
 And watch as it shatters.
 Into a billion pieces
 of unbelievable
 stupidity.

 A novelist.
 It's all a simple blur
 scribbled thoughts on notes of pain
 Random rants of radical
 explatives meant to shock
 and annihilate.
 Or maybe perhaps, just to entertain,
 Hardly legible,
 barely intelligent.
 Yet so completely beligerent
 all in it's ego of angst.
 Hide that smirk boy,
 you'll give it all away.
 So sparks and pens and papers flare,
 A strong word here, a weak one there.
 Nare a way to now escape,
 tiz your demon now,
 perchance to sleep.
 ....or love. So, both.

 High speed death.

 World has no clue.

 "World spreds it's wings for another star."

 The meaning of life? Heh, it's simple. It's whatever you make of it. If you
 decide your purpose os to kill everything you come across, then that in
 itself is the meaning. Boring as it is. Boring as you made it.

 "It's a good thing i didn't realize I was dead, I may have mourned my loss
 of life."

 We'll all be great, beautiful, wonderful people. One day when the sun comes
 up, and dries up all the rain, the world is what it thinks of us, and so am
 I. Kill yourself?

 For business, for pleasure.
 for the sheer goddamn fun of it.
 End. Your. Life. Die.

 "Well, I say to live it out like a god. Sure of immortal life, though you
 are in doubt, is the way to live it. If that doesn't make god proud of you,
 then god is nothing but gravitation, or sleep is the golden goal."
                                 -Edgar Lee Masters

 Brain-read, Mind-pee.

 ...It's 3 in the morning. Your in a room only lit by a blacklight and the
 brilliant streams of yellow that occaisionaly sneak in through the shades
 whenever a car roars by. You check your vitals and figure out who you are
 all over again. Your 16, your name is Danny, you live with your mom. Nine
 Inch Nails slowly swamps the room with an ominous glow, as if to symbolize
 the sound, the fury, and the pain.

 Check the mirror and your pupils aren't yet back to normal, so you take note
 to disregard almost everything you think until you come back down.
 Piss is green, you shrug it off. Could've been purple.

 It's always funny when you trip like this, you never hallucinate, you never
 miss a beat. For all intents your virtually normal, until it hits you.
 Square in the face, or from the back door, usually sneaking in where you
 least expect it, and then telling you your just fine before you get a chance
 to realize. A flood of paranoia and then a storm of static in your eyes, But
 it's ok, cuz your thinking, your enjoying this. Thinking is what you do. And
 your the best at it.

 "Had enough?"

 And he screamed with a spit through the steal and the bone and the tears,

 "Fuck no bitch. Gimme more."

 Grey Matters/Last Shot
 Whatever happened to ephus?

 He was alright for awhile, lived in the band room he did.

 Never a frown on his face. Sometimes if we got bored we'd pick Ephus up and
 throw him around the room, Mrs. Blevins never really liked that. I guess she
 thought Ephus was a trouble maker because one day Ephus didn't show up in
 the band room and he was no where to be found. It turned out that Mrs.
 Blevins locked Ephus up in a cabinet and nobody ever saw him again.

 And that was the end of Ephus.

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   * (c) HoE publications.  HoE #180 -- written by Lilnilhil -- 1/4/98 *