166 lines
8.9 KiB
Plaintext
166 lines
8.9 KiB
Plaintext
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[--------------------------------------------------------------------------]
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ooooo ooooo .oooooo. oooooooooooo HOE E'ZINE RELEASE #679
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`888' `888' d8P' `Y8b `888' `8
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888 888 888 888 888 "I Don't Shoot Heroin"
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888ooooo888 888 888 888oooo8
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888 888 888 888 888 " by Caitlin
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888 888 `88b d88' 888 o 6/9/99
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o888o o888o `Y8bood8P' o888ooooood8
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okay. So... I was pondering my mere existance today for the first
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time in say... 2 years (?) and I decided.. well... text file, since I
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haven't seem to find any other outlet lately. So, if you are entertained
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by that sort of personal rant/rambling, whatever the hell people have taken
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to calling it, be my guest. Otherwise, smile pretty and shut the hell up.
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[-----]
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Today started off as a horrible day. I woke up early. Not say, 30
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minutes so i could peacefully drift back into a fulfulling short slumber,
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but about 10 minutes early, which is just enough to set my whole morning
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off. I know someone must know what I am talking about... you know... like,
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5 minutes wouldn't matter... but i couldn't possibly go back to sleep,
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because i would sleep over my alarm.
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[ alternating I and i seems to be appealing to me today; it fits. ]
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upon washing my faded-to-pink red hair, I noticed i really needed
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to change my tampon which had uncomfortably lodged itself in my vaginal
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wall in the most frightfully _bearable_ way. tampax devotees know.
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anyways, i took my time carefully selecting which pair of dirty jeans on
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my closet floor to put on, then grabbed my "pimp girl" t-shirt, which
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seemed too ironically self confident for my already soured mood, and
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pulled it on reluctantly over my head.
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i put on [track 2] tool's aenima and i danced and sang around my
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room bitterly, in a vain, pathetic attempt to cheer/wake up. it worked
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until the near end of the song. then i got caught up in the words, which
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seemed to outline, fill in, and metaphorically devour my mind.
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i ran up my stairs, while my mind habitually chirped "cereal" and i
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gulped down a large bowl of honey nut clusters and skim milk, which only
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made me naseaus. Greatful for the physical uncomfort to go along with my
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mental distress, which was so angsty and pathetic at this moment. Walking
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out the door to the car, i decided otherwise.
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[thinking] "Okay, so I'm above this. I know it. I don't need the
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reassurance. Then why am i being so fucking infantile?!"
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I arrived at school, and stumbled silently into my choir class, only
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to bullshit with some classmates about hair color and my choir teacher and
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my spring break and explaining why i had no pictures yet. i should skip
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some of this stuff because it's so incredibly boring, but it is still
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significant in my mind of this day. So, yeah, We sang some fiddler on the
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roof mix of all the songs in the musical that is incredibly easy and dull
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and all that good stuff that defines middle school choirs.
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["Matchmaker matchmaker make me a match, find me a find, catch me a
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catch".]
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My brain chirped again [thinking]
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"'Do you feel the same? Am I only dreaming?'"
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Okay, so I'm in second hour now, and I happen to write this really
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graphic, and interesting story about a berry i ate, and it's journey
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through my digestive system. Yes. I was proud. My biology teacher loved
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it, which made me happy because she's beautiful, and i instinctively strive
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to impress her with my wit.
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Third hour. I sat in the library and discussed teen pregnancy and
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spring break with this girl that sucks.
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fourth hour. NO ONE IN MY FUCKING CLASS KNEW WHAT 'REDUNDENT' MEANT.
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(not really important, but) I had a great lunch hour! My closest
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friend/pseudo-sister and I sat at lunch and laughed non stop the whole 30
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minutes [like we do everyday.] I informed her of my great weekend in
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Philadelphia, and we tuned out everyone else with out discussion like we
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always do, only to return to reality when the bell signifying the end of
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lunch woke us.
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walking to fifth hour, i noticed a warm, damp spot in between my
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legs, and rushed for the girls bathroom in time to change my feminine
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stick.
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Awaiting the teachers protest, I sauntered in, smirking cynically,
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not necessarily offensively, just out of nature. I was 5 minutes late.
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[oh mah god, i totally love run on sentances, oh so truly]
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okay, so fuck school. this isn't structured, and I don't feel like
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discussing the rest of my day, since it was just as uneventful and
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pointless as the beginning of this which i carefully dispersed with
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colorful adjectives and random bullshit to keep you partially interested,
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or whatever. If you're even reading this you must have some interest in
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what I think. Or else you don't know me and your internet connection is
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too slow to do anything worthwhile.
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Once i got home from school, i immediately ran down into my room
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and grabbed my guitar and started pounding away angerly at the strings and
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my vocal chords. It was fun. I sang about heartache, about confusion,
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about comfort, about peace, about love, about hate, about truth, about lies,
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about cities and cars, about towns and gas stations, about boys and girls,
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about driving and about being the passenger, about music, about teasing,
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about soulmates, and yeah. The best part of all, it was all my own words
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and raw emotions, which have been eroded hungerly like a beaver chewing to
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the core of a tree trunk. Have you ever bitten your nail so low that the
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nailbed is painfully and annoyingly exposed? Multiply that feeling by
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84928914892 and you know. [or else, you're only human and you know exactly
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what I am talking about.]
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so yeah, about my musical river that came and went, I sang as
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naturally as birds flying, and i played like i was an angry drummer. I only
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wished i could muster that to sell to someone else. I don't want fame. I
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want understanding. I don't want admiration. I want understanding. I don't
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want to fuck (anything). I want kinship and soul sharing (whatever the hell
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that means).
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Okay, I'm running off track again. I'm not a fucking train. I can't
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draw a line and choose which side i'm on. and i sure as hell can't stand
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right on the middle of the line, cuz then I can't dance around. I'm sure I
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should credit that to someone, but I can't remember who now.
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My hair hasn't diverted from a rainbow color in over a year and a
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half now. Isn't that odd? In a way, that was me for so long. I really was
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comfortable. People thought that was great, that I could carry that off.
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I'm sick of that now, you know? I don't know what they're going to say
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tomorrow when I walk in with auburn hair, but I don't really care either
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which way. This is the biggest statement I've made so far. It's a blatent
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fuck you to my peers, which I don't want to do exactly, because i'm
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definately doing this for myself, but I do. I don't care anymore. The
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attention isn't a drug anymore. I'm not addicted. My detox was crazy and
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emotional, but I'm getting there. Yeah so i once said i've never been
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addicted to anything. I smoked a pack of cigarettes a day for a year or
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two. I quit cold turkey because it wasn't worth it to sneak out for a
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cigarette anymore. There was no point. I never craved it. so why? I
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don't know. There's a place called the midwest where if you don't take up
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some form of body mutilation, you will surely go insane. Yeah, I didn't
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mean for that all to tie in, but it really does, I swear!
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[sweet and simple: I dyed my hair strange colors before as a way to
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comfort and protect myself from what anyone else had to say. I was already
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offensive and out there. I was self confident and cool. I had class, I had
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style, and I was different. I can get away with anything, right? I sure
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hope so. I got a fortune cookie today and it read "You will always get
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what you want through your charm and personality" That's when I think i
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confirmed the hair color change. I'm not hiding anymore! Come and take me
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anything! someone! help! i'm choking on peace and comfort!!]
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I feel like I should be writing this in a letter to someone, but
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then i would feel rejected if they didn't stomach it. this way if no one
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reads it or if someone does.. i don't feel anything either which way. good
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planning eh? oh my god it's 1:30 in the morning and i have to wake up
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tomorrow. early and stuff. yeah. so.
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Anyways, i think the whole point of this was to tell you why I dyed
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my hair, even though it doesn't matter that much. does it? I hope not.
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thanks, i love you, i miss you, bye.
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"This is me, without my hair.. welcome to my open stare." - a.d.
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[--------------------------------------------------------------------------]
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[ (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #679 - WRITTEN BY: CAITLIN - 6/9/99 ]
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