112 lines
6.7 KiB
Plaintext
112 lines
6.7 KiB
Plaintext
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(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)
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(*) (*) * (*)~*~(*) HOE E'ZINE RELEASE #888
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* 0 0 ~ 0 *
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~ 0 0 ~* *~ 0 hOGS ~ "Blah Blah De Fucking Blah"
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( 0*~*~*0 ( ) 0*~*~ oF )
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~ 0 0 ~ ~ 0 eNTROPY ~ By: Phairgirl
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* 0 0 * * 0 * 10-23-99
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(*) (*) ~ (*)~*~(*)
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(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)
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Silly fucking silly, sitting around talking and thinking about
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nothing, just typing like a stupid asshole cuz there's nothing better to do.
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And I'm entertained by Gallagher at 3am, just like every other redneck
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midwestern American with cable and no place to go at this hour. And the
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alcohol doesn't help me realize how stupid I'm being either, because it's
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not good to drink alone, but I did it anyway. Always intelligent. You
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betcha.
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I'm just all about pissing everyone off these days, I think,
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sabotaging cool shit and forcing myself to be angsty lame instead of making
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things better. But how do I make things better when there's nothing here
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but angsty lameness? It's such a whine, such a crock of shit. Maybe
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tomorrow I'll study so that my big plans for graduating might have half a
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chance of happening. Maybe I'll remember not to take any more independent
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study classes. Maybe I'll force myself to do ignorant busy work for the
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sake of a grade. Maybe.
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But what do I do about everything else? I start to make a point and
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I think about something else. What's talking at this point?
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I'm having regrets, and that bothers me. I kinda fucked with my
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brain and did a bunch of stupid shit. I made out that I was this slut, when
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I'm not, and it was inappropriate, anyway. Not to mention drugs. Drugs are
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so fucking dumb, but here I sit drinking and wondering if my friends will
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ask me to shroom with them. I don't even like this shit. I'm just bored
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and stupid, but if there's no harm in the long run, it's okay, right?
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Except that I feel stupid for doing it. No long-term effects, except for
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low self-esteem. But that's nothing new, is it, and I can cope with that.
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But I drive people away from me in droves, and I don't be needing to
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do that. Such as this file; do I really need to be sharing this? What the
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fuck does anyone care? Why do I spill myself out to the world? "I'll never
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be open again..." maybe it's compensation for what I can't do in real,
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meaningful relationships. Anyone can learn everything there is to know
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about me by reading my website and writing or even talking to me for ten
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minutes online, but in reality, I'm just a charicature. It's funny, though,
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because in both worlds, I fake nothing; neither are reality, and it feels
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much better that way, because then my mission is truly accomplished. Is
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this a sabotage? Jesus fucking Christ, where the hell is a therapist when
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you need one. I need to be on mass medication and laying on a couch
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spilling this shit.
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I was especially disturbed today. I've been a fucking crackhead the
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past couple of weeks, awaiting the new Dream Theater album, and irritating
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everyone around me with their music, since me and two other people in this
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town like them. Anyway, I'm watching their 5 Years In A LIVEtime video and
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singing along, surround sound blaring, bass shaking my computer hard enough
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to wake my screen saver. Either way, I'm a fucking crackhead or something,
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because I heard the song "To Live Forever," which I've heard before, but I
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nearly passed out or started crying or some shit, the song was so beautiful.
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What the fuck? I've been doing this a lot lately. Beauty in music is
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making me cry. I think most people would recommend that I try and get a
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life or something, get out of the house once in a while, stop taking my
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music so seriously and get a hobby, I don't know. I'm just a failed
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musician, I guess, pitying myself. Fucking right, let's get that pity party
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out of the way right now: goddamn my family for being poor and not being
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able to afford my music lessons, goddamn my self-esteem so that I can't
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stand to sing in front of anyone but myself, goddamn my endless obsession
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with music that makes this hurt so much. And, of course, fuck myself for
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typing all this shit out, because it's not something I should publish or
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even look twice at because it's all a bunch of the same.
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And I'm still avoiding my original point, which is why I shouldn't
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try to write a coherent piece when I'm buzzing, which in itself is stupid
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but that's been covered. Why do I drive people away from me? It's on
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purpose. I tell people things that they don't want to hear, I open my mouth
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and say, "HEYYYYY, I'M CRAAAAAAAAAZY!" and they say, "Um, yeah, okay,
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later." And for some reason I think I expected them to be intrigued or
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something. Because, as we all know, crazy fucked up whiny people are very,
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very intriguing. Everyone likes to hear people bitch about their miserable
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lives. Notice the lack of a phairgirl fan club. This isn't necessarily
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done without intention.
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But hey, I'm driving the kickass people away, and that's okay,
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because otherwise I'd have nothing to blah blah de fucking blah about, and
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nobody would hear from me. That's right. Yeeeeah.
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Anyways, I think originally I was talking about something, I don't
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remember and I'm too lazy to scroll up. But I'm not a slut, even if I told
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you I am. Maybe once upon a time, I was stupid and did the fucking thing,
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but honestly, if that's what I wanted I would be doing it right now. Hey,
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it's all part of a groove, and I've moved on, realized that wasn't my thing.
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I'm not saying sex is bad, cuz hey, it's all good around there. But I heard
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once that it's supposed to mean something, and I'd like to try that
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sometime. I'm not in a rush.
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So what the fuck am I doing with myself NOW? I really don't have a
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clue. Focus isn't a good thing, it's a quality I'm lacking severely. I
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need focus. I need to do the things I want to do and finally move on with
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all of my dreams for the future and quit bitching about the here and now.
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It will happen, I think, just give me the present and all the bitch rights
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so I can stay sane until I get there.
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If you ever meet Ben Stein, tell him your name is Francis Pumphandle.
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See if he gets the obscure reference. If not, beat him to death. Oh, hell,
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beat him anyway. It's only Ben Stein, and it's Ferris Bueller's day off, so
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no need to keep showing up.
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(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)
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( *(c) hOGS oF eNTROPY pRESS* HOE #888 ~ WRITTEN BY: PHAIRGIRL ~ 10/23/99 )
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