102 lines
5.4 KiB
Plaintext
102 lines
5.4 KiB
Plaintext
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$$$$
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$$$$T""P$$$ba, ,gd&P""T&bg. ,gd&P""T&bg.
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ggggggggggg $$$$ $$$$$b d$$$$ $$$$b d$$$$ $$$$$b ggggggggggg
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""""""""""" $$$$ $$$$$$ $$$$$ $$$$$ $$$$$bxxP&$$&P """""""""""
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$$$$ $$$$$$ T$$$$ $$$$P T$$$$
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$$$"""""" " """" $$$$$$ "T&$bxxd$&P" "T&$bxx$$$$$' " """"""$$$
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""" """""" """
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ggg "Interlaced Space" ggg
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$$$ by -> Mogel $$$
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$$$ $$$
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$$$ [ HOE E-Zine #921 -- 12/01/99 -- http://www.hoe.nu ] .,$$$
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`"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""'
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Brkoen glsas ctus me.
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The ascii characters you're scanning with your eyes are encoded
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with special sauce, baby, 'cause I'm thinkin' about the greatest romance
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in the world writing this, and it's oozin' out of each and every space so
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I'd better control the spaces, and I'd better make this run-on sentence
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shine, baby, so you can plainly see how utterly flighty and frantic my
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great glee can be. I'm here for others, oh no, oh yes, and I'm here for
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you.
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I'm staring straight the fuck at you with my eyes years from the
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past, and you're reading this and you're where you're at and I'm where
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I'm at and I'm reading this too and ain't that crazy? Are you the most
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intelligent being on the planet? If you are, and you're reading this, I
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have contributed to your brilliance.
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I'm proactively acting, you sweet, sweet, son of a bitch. Ten
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thousand sewn threads make up a shirt, but we'd need no motherfuckin'
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shirts, do we? Our bare skins are supposed to be touching.
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Do you feel my skin?
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Do you feel how real I am?
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We're as real as reality is real, and as we wanna be, and that's
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as real as a banana peel that I feel when I squeal from your sweet touch
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when we're fucking in the darkroom at my college university at 2am, and I
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can't think of anything more bizarre and romantic than love on a dirty
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floor with poisonous chemicals sticking to your back.
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I've got a special equation for you to plug in.
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Fuck me on my keyboard.
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Let's make it a t-file.
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Here is the result:
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I don't smoke, but I've smoked before. It wasn't a mistake. Hot,
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dirty air funneling through my compact flesh. It felt good.
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Actions are reactions, and I'm thinking about the times I did
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something original and innovative and creative, and it's sedative.
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Corny rhymes sooth my senses.
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Sometimes I forget what I'm saying and I find something new. A
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diamond in the rough cuff of my ripped shirt spurts a message.
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DID YOU SPOT THE TYPO ?
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Memories are tainted with bias, broken to bits--sharp and
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revealing--like a broken mirror's fragments, taped to the insides of your
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eyelids. That's melodramatic, but when Iiiiiiiii look at you, and when
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Iiiiiiiiiii look at your pretty, pretty eyes... you've got those eyes,
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baby, those sparkling eyes, baby, and your eyes, when they're sparkling
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like thaaaaat, baby, they look like perfect gem stones and I'm CAUGHT,
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you know, I'm caught like a deer in headlights, waaaaitin' for you to HIT
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me, baby, HIT ME with your whining generic girlfriend bullshit.
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I want to test you with a poke. You'd say "ow," and at that exact
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moment I'd be able to finally confirm that your nerve endings were
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functioning and you are properly receiving signals from your brain and
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you were not in a coma-like state because you'd be responding directly
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with woooords as a reeeeeaction to my pooooooke, and we'd have something
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very, very special there. We'd have a real connection of mental
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masturbation.
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I do want to make my dirty marks on this world. Surrealist cut
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and slice is alright but if it ain't got the juice I'm not drinkin' it,
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and I like to drink from your malicious, marxist vagina like a cool,
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mountain-fresh river.
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Is there something wrong with me saying that?
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Deer Park, That's Good Water.
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I don't mind either way. Typos make us human.
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I want to appropriate every fucking image drilled to death in our
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little beady heads and convert them to frost-bitten bytes.
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Fuck you, DISNEY! heheheh!
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Suck my dick, 7-ELEVEN! a-hoo!
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Hey Microsoft, YOU SO TOTALLY SUCK!!
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If I had 1 million dollars, I'd get a team of landscape artists
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and I'd sign the entire earth, so sucka mc's across the nation would know
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my mothafuckin' name is "MOGEL".
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My messages are real. You are, in fact, really reading these
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words. I am completely certain of it. Your brain is choosing to decide
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what to do with the messages it is receiving, and you are processing,
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changing, deciding, judging, thinking, loving, hating, living, breathing,
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and fucking me. You really are.
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Is there anything wrong with me saying that?
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There's ten-thousand surface layers we've got to chisel through
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you and me and in between till we understand what the hell any of these
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memories are telling us. Significance is as significant as you want--but
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what happens when they taunt?
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I'm taunted by you for being alive, but I wouldn't have it any
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other way. So let's play.
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[--------------------------------------------------------------------------]
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[ (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #921 - WRITTEN BY: MOGEL - 12/01/99 ]
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