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9.8 KiB
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253 lines
9.8 KiB
Plaintext
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OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO oOOOO OOOO. OOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
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OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" .OOOOOO OOOOOo OOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
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OOOO oOOOOOOO OOOOOOO. OOOO oOOOO
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OOOO .OOOO OOOO OOOOOOOOo OOOO OOOO"
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OOOO oOOOO OOOO OOOO "OOOO. OOOO OOOOo .OOOO'
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OOOO .OOOO" OOOO OOOO OOOOoOOOO "OOOO. oOOOO
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OOOO oOOOOOOO..OOOO OOOO "OOOOOOO OOOOoOOOO"
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OOOO .OOOO"""OOOOOOOO OOOO OOOOOO "OOOOOOO'
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OOOO oOOOO ""OOOO OOOO "OOOO OOOOOO
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|-----------------------------------------------------------------------------|
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| There Ain't No Justice |
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| #63 |
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|-----------------------------------------------------------------------------|
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- Going Crazy in the Suburbs 06: Changing Values -
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by Hairy Leech
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so i was sitting there, looking at my homely little terminal program, the
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thing that automatically booted every time i turned my computer on, and i
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was bored.
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first, first you see, first i went for the programs.
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then, then you realize, then i went for the chatting.
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now, now you understand, now i want neither.
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so i was sitting there, looking at my homely little terminal program, the
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thing that automatically booted every time i turned my computer on, and i
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was a thinking that my values, they be changing once more.
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first, first you see, first i loved all kinds of theft. then, then you
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realize, then i was caught, but that had little effect. now, now you
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understand, now i feel as if it's wrong, so i no longer do it.
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not that that has anything to do with any of this, mind you.
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so i was sitting there, looking at my homely little terminal program, the
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thing that automatically booted every time i turned my computer on, and i
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was realizing i was no longer a child.
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i've done enough so far to know what i like.
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i like to write, but that has definate draw backs. only a handfull of
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people eventually read whatever it is that i write, so i have a very small
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amount of feedback on it, whatever it is, if any at all.
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and out of that handfull of people, only perhaps one or two or, dare i
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imagine, three, take any single bit of it seriously and think about what
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i'm trying to say.
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and out of those one or two or, dare i imagine, three people, i'd say
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perhaps only one actually somewhat, to the smallest extent possible,
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understands what it is that i am saying.
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and that one person, of course, is me.
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well, i imagine so.
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i mean, i don't really sit down and say, "i want to say this this and
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this." not at all. so who knows what i'm trying to say. surely i don't. or
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do i? hmmm. points to ponder.
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i like to read, but that has definate draw backs. books cost money, you
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see, and that happens to be the one large thing that i am lacking.
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and of course there is the library, the place that i never get to, due to
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lack of time.
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and of course there is no time to read a book anyway, due to lack of time,
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see above.
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i like to paint, but that has definate draw backs. i refuse to use a brush,
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because, well, i don't like brushes, and that leads, of course, to finger
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painting. and that leads, of course, to fingers full of paint. and that
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leads, of course, to that annoying and dull sensation you get when your
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fingers are covered with multiple coats of paint.
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and anyway, i don't paint pictures, heavens no, i paint.. things. things
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that i don't understand. and that always leads to lots of annoying
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questions.
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well, actually, come to think of it and all, it dosen't. no one seems to
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give a flying tuna cassarole about what my paintings mean. and that's quite
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distressing.
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well, i like to sit and mumble the secret inner-workings of my mind to one
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person in particular, but that comes with it's own set of limitations. you
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see, i like to do all that in the rain, in the nice pouring down rain, at
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night, by the perfectly horrible lakewood lake.
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to be in a nice somber mood, you see, talking about all of my little quirks
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calmly, quietly, with someone who loves me, with someone who i love, while
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watching the rain fall, watching it make the little explosions in the
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water, like tiny bombs of water falling.. shockwaves streching out in all
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directions, only to be struck by more miniature bombs.. it's quite
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spiritual, if i do say so.
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and this is all fine and good, but it has it's definate draw backs. for
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instance, it has to be in the late spring or summer, so that it is actually
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bareable to be sitting outside in the rain.
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and, well, anyway.. my mind is a mess and not a good place to reside.
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but i'm getting better.
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with each passing day.
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better and better.
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i like my job, but you realize, that's a foolish thing to like.
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while i sit and examine myself as i often do, as i'm doing now, in fact, i
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think that i must make a horrible boyfriend. look at me the way i see
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myself, if you please.
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my life has been spent in quiet darkness, alone for 16 years.
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my mood changes constantly for no apparant reason.
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i can't quite say what it is that i want to say, even though, as we have
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already established, i have no more of an idea what i want to say than you
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do.
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i can be soft, and gentle, and caring, and kind, and tender, and loving.
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i can sit and share fragile parts of myself with people, giving them a
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little bit of me to carry around and toy with, examine.
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i can calm and sooth when there is call for calming and soothing.
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i can cradle a sweet, beautiful young woman when she has to cry, clutch,
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hold on to something.
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i can tell her it's all going to be ok, even though i may doubt it myself
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most of the time.
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i can think up reasons for her to be happy and cheerful, even though the
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same reasons constantly escape me when i need them.
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i can be the kindest, sweetest person you've ever met.
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but i can't be fun.
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i don't know how to have fun.
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i can make you laugh by insulting myself.
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but i don't know how to have fun.
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i blame my childhood. my formitive years. the years spent in darkness,
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boredom. devoid of human contact save my family. the family i no longer
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know.
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i like to write, but people always decide to call me at 12:26 in the
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morning and spoil whatever chain of thought i once had.
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i was never able to tell anyone about personal problems while growing up. i
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could never tell my father anything, because he never answered. anyone. i
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could never tell my mother anything, i don't know why. she was.. is.. close
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to me, closer than i'd like to think at times. but she isn't nearly close
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enough. i could never tell anyone that i was scared of the future, scared
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of being a failure, scared of the dark, afraid.. anything.
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and now, now you see, now.. now i've finally strayed upon someone who i can
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tell all these things, someone who understands it all, and i realize what a
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small, frightened child i am inside.
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there are times when i find myself doing things just because i want to be
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babied. i want to be held. i want someone to hold me, stroke my hair, tell
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me everything is perfectly well.
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i walk around silent. i look down all the time. i sigh.
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and then, then someone asks me, "what's wrong?" and what do i do? what do i
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say?
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"nothing."
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i make them pry it out of me.
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i don't know why i do these things.
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i wonder if they're wrong.
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i wonder if i should change.
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unplugged the damned telephone, by cricky.
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what a sordid tale i am.
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my mind is like a tornado, a swirling mass of thoughts, spinning around so
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very fast. with no meaning to any of it, and no intent or purpose, no idea
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at all. no connections between any of the seperate pieces, no chains to
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connect or bind.
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and i think i have a rash.
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i'm actually quite a boring shit. i'm surprised no one sees it. they see me
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say things, they see me spill my life story for all to see, and they think
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i hold things back. they think i'm (and i quote) "mysterious." and they
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don't realize i'm actually just a boring shit.
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i imagine one day they will, and then they'll loose interest completely.
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i'm going slowly blind and deaf. how nice.
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and 17 years from the starting line, the eyes are ahead by a few lashes,
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but the ears are closing in quickly..
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and my life is filled with quiet, somber moments.
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if it isn't the rain, it's the fire. flickering candles, dim lighting, soft
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warm carpet..
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i want to ride a horse.
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so i was sitting there, looking at my homely little terminal program, the
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thing that automatically booted every time i turned my computer on, and i
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was quite exausted actually, and i decided to enjoy the tortured silence of
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dreamless sleep.
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and i realized, i realized once again with the same happiness, with the
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same joy and excitement, i realized i was in love.
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<20> <20><> <20>
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<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD> <20> <20> <20>
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<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>۲<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD> <20><>
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<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD> <20>
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<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
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<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD> <20><><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
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<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD> <20> <20>
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<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
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<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
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<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
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<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
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<EFBFBD>۱<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD> The Syndicate: 908/506-6651
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<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD> First United Church Kalisti: 602/753-3784
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<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD> The Cell: 817/870-1060
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<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
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<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD> <20> <20>
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<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD> <20><><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
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<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD> <20>
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<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>۲<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD> <20><>
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<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD> <20> <20> <20>
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