109 lines
4.7 KiB
Plaintext
109 lines
4.7 KiB
Plaintext
s$
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$$ .d""b. .d""b. HOE E'ZINE #1002
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[-- $$""b. $$ $$ $$ $$ -- ------------------------------------------- --]
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$$ $$ $$ $$ $$ss$$ "Red"
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$$ $$ $$ $$ $$ or, a response to AIDS' "Random Thoughts on HOE"
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$$ $$ $$ $$ $$ $$ by Rhea [1/22/00]
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[-- $$ $$ $$ $$ $$ $$ -- ------------------------------------------- --]
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$$ $$ "TssT" "TssT"
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once upon a time there was a generic beginning that smelled like stale
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gingerbread houses and rotting bean stalks and once upon a time I stood
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up and stretched my legs and realized there was nothing beneath me! But
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it was ok!
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But it wasn't ok, AIDS, because once upon a different time I read, "The
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Disney technique of turning an entertainment success into an effective
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tool for marketing consumer goods was not an isolated event." I laughed;
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I cried; I sighed; I said, "Oh, why do 'cry' and 'sigh' have to rhyme!"
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and I stood up and stretched my legs and said,
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"HEY AIDS!
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You shall not press down upon the brow of female attempts to write this
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crown of thorns;
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You shall not crucify womankind upon a cross of RED!"
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Many other entertainers and producers took note and did the same.
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Then you were banging your shoe,
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Saying, "We will bury you!"
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But we knew, we knew.
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But Kruschev's dead! There's nothing left in his head, not even red.
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We knew, we knew!
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So I stood up and stretched my legs and said,
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"Why, I do believe I'd rather be dead than red.
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Yes I can't help feeling that I'd rather be dead
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Than red."
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And then I don't know how it happened; it just boiled up inside me;
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and soon I started chanting, although it terrified me,
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but I knew, I knew, that I'd
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Rather be dead than red!
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Rather be dead than red!
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Rather be dead than
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Rather be dead than
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Rather be dead than
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Rather be dead
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Rather be dead
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Rather be
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Rather be
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Rather be
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RATHER BE DEAD THAN RED, AIDS!
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And of course I want to be loved -- every doe does! But at what price?
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What will I pay to pay attention to the tension of L O V E
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-- that essential melange of the desire to reproduce (sexsexsexsexsexsexsex
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sexsexsexsexsexsexsexsexsexsexsexsexsex) and boredom and wistful
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inhalations of the stale perfume of red, red roses (singing, "Red, the
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blood of angry men.") and other silly romantic fancies and the other day,
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AIDS, yes, the other day I was in a restaurant and a black man who worked
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there came to the table, saw my empty glass, and said, "Do you want a
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refill?" And I nodded, of course, and he said, "Diet Coke?" And I nodded,
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but how did he know it was Diet Coke? I couldn't understand it. It was
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like he had SEEN INTO MY SOUL and oh oh oh I wanted to have a wild,
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passionate affair with him, a wild passionate affair over the empty grave
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of the dead white male!!!!!!!!!!!!! But first I knew I had to take up
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free form poetry and then, of course, the world flashed red and oh I
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knew, I knew that I wasn't pretty enough! The world wasn't nice enough!
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No one liked me enough!
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(And the days are not full enough,
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And the nights are not full enough,
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And life slips by like a field mouse,
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not shaking the grass.)
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And I wasn't happy enough! And I wasn't fulfilled enough! And I was not
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rich enough! And I was not loved enough! Oh, pity me! Pity me! Pity
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me, cloudy night skies that half-cover the pale lonely moon because no
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one will ever say to me, "It is the east, and Rhea is the sun!" because
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we all know Rhea is a moon -- one of Saturn's moon, no less, and we all
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know what happened to Saturn and oh, pity me! PITY ME!
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I was driving today, and when the stop light turned red I stopped, of
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course. Stop lights are complete and blissful order; I always know that
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the chaos in humanity can be controlled when stop lights regulate the
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traffic so effortlessly, blinking red and green without a blink.
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Buy me a Mickey Mouse watch! Buy me a Little Mermaid T-Shirt! Buy me a
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Pocahontas lunch box!
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Red like the second hand on the clock. Always ticking, ticking my life
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away and YOURS TOO AND KRUSCHEV'S TOO and Ezra Pound's too and William
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Jennings Bryan's too, despite his Fundamentalist views, and what will
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happen to me when the stop light stops? Red like eyes too long awake,
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red like sexsexsexsexsexsexsexsexsexsexsexsexsexsexsexsexsexsexsexsex,
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red like the A+ on a paper well-written, red like wine, red like the
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ribbons they give us to wear to mourn the deaths caused by AIDS,
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and oh, if I could write, I would be so happy, but because I can't,
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please.
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pity me.
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there is no passion here.
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[-------------------------------------------------------------------------]
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[ (c) HOE E'ZINE -- http://www.hoe.nu HOE #1002, BY RHEA - 01/22/00 ]
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