1322 lines
17 KiB
Plaintext
1322 lines
17 KiB
Plaintext
[begin] *******************************************************************
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inter\face 7
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Summer 1994
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===========================================================================
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inter\face is:
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-Not necessarily about, written on, or influenced by computers and
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network technology. We acknowledge the computer and continue writing...
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-a forum in which I can share thoughts with other free minds. :)
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-your ticket out of this dirty hell-hole. inter\face will be here long
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after the crows choke on your bones and they pave over the cemetary.
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inter\face does not care what you read, who you are, what you like.
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inter\face will nail your eyes to the wall and leave you hanging dry.
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inter\face is not about you, or me, or anything around us.
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**************************************************************************
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Please email to bh4781@rachel.albany.edu to be added to the mailing
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list to receive the next issue and/or back issues. Note that this is
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a human being and not an automated listserv, so please send questions
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and be specific.
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or
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by anonymous ftp:
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-----------------
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etext.archive.umich.edu /pub/Zines/Interface
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ftp.eff.org /pub/e-serials/alphabetic/i/interface
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gopher:
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-------
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gopher etext.archive.umich.edu /Zines/Interfac
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gopher gopher.cic.net /e-serials/alphabetic/i/interface
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from America On Line:
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---------------------
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Select keyword: PDA
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Select: Palmtop Paperbacks
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Select: Electronic Articles and Newsletters
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***************************************************************************
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===========================================================================
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Tim L. Gilbert
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gilbert@marin.cc.ca.US
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---------------------
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Wires [ 12:36:39 AM 2/27/94 ]
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Wires - all my nerves have been replaced
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All of my old desires
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have been replaced
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By copper. They are more sneaky nowadays.
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They once asked me who I was. I had to laugh.
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And I said "I am the best expert system
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On the market today.
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I am the smartest virus you
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Will ever see.
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I am the swallower of memes.
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I am the eater of brains.
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I am not human.
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Fear me."
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These may have been lies. Nowadays
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I don't always know when I am lying.
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I have iron fingernails. I am beginning
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To suspect
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Oh, yes
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That I don't have as much redundacy as I need
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For optimum efficiency in this environment.
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So I have begun to clone myself.
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I am doing it out in the park in a place
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Only I know. Nothing is out there but
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Cat shit and my cloning vat.
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All my old desires
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Maybe my clone will get them
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via my genes.
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He is welcome to them. Oh, yes. Oh
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Wires - they writhe beneath my skin.
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They burn me during thunderstorms.
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The cloning process is easy.
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I have developed tumors.
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abcesses.
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warts.
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excretions.
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sores.
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It is a simple process of draining.
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It will not be long. I must be patient.
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They are getting sneaky. Sometimes
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I see them watching me and I wonder
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How much they know. I wonder
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If they know about my nerves.
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This wondering is bad.
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ineficient. That is why
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I am cloning myself. All day I stay
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Up at the vat in the park. I must be
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Certain the genetic material is not polluted.
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I am afraid of the cats there.
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They are mutants. They are larger than dogs.
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I don't know what they would do if they
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Found my cloning vat.
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I am beginning to suspect that
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Some of
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My thoughts have become irrational.
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disorganized.
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unrealistic.
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My clone will be better suited to
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This environment.
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He is welcome to it.
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----------------------------------------------------------------------------
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Hissing noises [ 12:09:51 AM 2/27/94 ]
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Hissing noises still come from the doors on cold nights. I have forgotten
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how long I have been here. It could be days, it could be months. There
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are lightbulbs in the ceiling, one in every room. There are no windows.
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There are no chairs. I have had no food since I arrived. Yet I feel no
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hunger, no desire to move. How I have reached this place is unclear. It
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is difficult to think of anything from before. Dust covers the floors.
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The author paused, and I interruputed. Hissing noises? What causes them?
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He looked at me gravely. I'm getting to that. I am sick of this story
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already, I told him. It sounds to me like you are making it up as you go
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along. He got angry. What the hell do you know, you little punk? If
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you don't want to hear it, fuck you. Hey, pal, I said, you were the one
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who wanted to read it to me. What's going to happen next? I'll bet you
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go into a long description of this place your no-name character is in.
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I'll bet it has no resolution. And I'll bet there is no dialogue in the
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whole damn story. He never even finds out what the hissing noises are,
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does he? The author looked really mad at this point. You just threw that
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line in to grab attention, I continued, to give the false impression that
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there is some conflict in a story that is nothing but meaningless ennui.
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He grabbed up his notebook in disgust. Better than your nihilistic bull-
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shit, he said, and left.
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==========================================================================
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Katie Yates
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cy6440@rachel.albany.edu
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------------------------
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inter`face 7
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Not to touch or renumber, could only fall face down -again-
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& a time to say what happened & why one is here, still
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Not as a poet but to continue to be available . to surface outside
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of questions asked
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Relish the insistance of
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why or the luxury of being asked = why
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As though it were important.
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===========================================================================
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Shag Aristotelis
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birchall@pilot.njin.net
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-----------------------
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"Shag is a freelance writer, amateur naturalist, and weirdo."
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-------------------------------------------------------------
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Dance
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-----
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life
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is a lot
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like a dance
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maintaining the proper distance,
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making
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the
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right
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moves,
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the music slows,
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and
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we
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glide
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closer
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together,
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the music quickens,
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and
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we
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twirl
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further
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apart.
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but sometimes
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we get to stop dancing
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just
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for a little while
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and be ourselves.
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i'm
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not
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much
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of a
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dancer,
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as those who know me will attest,
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and
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most of the time,
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my moves
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are
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deliberately
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hard to
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follow
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but
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when
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the
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music
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stops,
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i'm at my best.
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===============================================================================
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John LeMay
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----------
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Whitman on the Net
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...I see the raw millennium arrive in particles and waves of information,
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I see programmers writing the paths of the future,
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I see biologists mapping the human genome, the program of flesh;
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As information I beckon you; my body contains stars and satellites,
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My tongue roots among the synapses of your digital embrace,
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My spirit crosses the Atlantic by cable, my spirit is transmitted
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by fiber optics;
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My soul and body fuse in electromagnetic ether, I am wholly encoded in
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cryptic language,
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I am inscribed among the multitudes!
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You, me, they, executives, politicians, custodians, poets, sons and daughters,
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all mingle in a labyrinth of subroutines...
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==============================================================================
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Awopbop 4/5/94
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Sandy Baldwin, Ben Henry, Mary Beth Portly
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------------------------------------------
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This poem was created using an interactive conferencing system called Daedalus.
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*******************************************************************************
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[sesion extract #1]
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COUNTDOWN
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screen lacks tactility
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so make a machine, imbecillic to procrastination
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(again misfired)
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Objects are closer than they appear.
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TEN
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reach out and touch someone
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pelts
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NINE
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in this mirror I see behind
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cancel abort retry
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screen
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and it smiles but who wants smiles
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EIGHT
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reach in and feel something
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SENSATION WAS ALL A MISTAKE
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ignore
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there's only the effect of surface tension
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SEVEN
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reset
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something is ripping its only noise motion
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everything said
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was heard already
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on the radio
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stuck out my tongue
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and found wiring
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SIX
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please please please
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phone still ringing
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clipped my hair and found barcodes
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shut up!
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indicating
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date of purchase
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\date of sale
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Miss Took Sen Sation for an Ex Peer
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FIVE
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YAHA YAH Yaaa, skiiddd
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John, I can't stand the clicking
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crisis outreach hotline, please hold
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"WHOOPS!" said the
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penguin as it flew into the blender.
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grip slip
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mr postman
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FIVE
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does the count reverse
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options features menus
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fully optimized to meet your
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ward for meaning back-words
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down to scratch
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THREE
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enter
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WUNRUPPIE UPPOMUNGER
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always in
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dissolved
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oblivion
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of mathematics
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if there were numbers
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in truth
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there would be freedom
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so imagine a number
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TWO
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softly so no one will notice
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it seems blue
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ME
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the only
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silence
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if you must cry
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NUMBER 6:
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now pulling out my
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hair (but who has ever done that?
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it may be rectangular, or shaped like
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a chicken
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Maximum tolerance levels reached. Warning!
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infinite divisibility
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ONE
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this is all there is
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(pause)
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not a crowd but a group
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no sand left
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..........................................................
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,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
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``````````````````````````````````````````````````````````
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----------------------------------------------------------
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~oh~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
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[session extract #2]
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Corpus Hermeticus (1703) [deleted] " ... mental structures
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an...
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effect of their movement away from the seaside
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and grown pernicious scales on their
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"
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constriction
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relaxation
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constriction
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removal
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past
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time octupoid thinking as if tentacles were
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ses
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thud thud thud
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never comin' back no more
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-
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the gap grows larger
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so ____ built
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that construct
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last (to)
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emissions of instruments long fore
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gotten
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"Hasn't been an instrument built that can hold
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me."
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vacillation
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at an edge -- here lattice grows: edges or fringes
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upon resting thoughts lies
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blown
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throu
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rubbr
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downing saran wrap
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like jello
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` `````` . ;lk;lwjaHAHAGHHHHq
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blown
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intou
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sands
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borders living in the lines
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hang or only
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find any bodies ony the lattice
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we move
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picked up the phone
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STATIC BUZZ
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MESSAGE ONE:
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and then the lines move(d), the edges came closer and an
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opening ! <------@ !
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well of course why not?
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if there were a message?
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dial tone
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static
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the opening was not a cave
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but the horn
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of a tuba
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vibbbbbrating
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learned to inscribe,
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in encoded
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filled on noise
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crypt - ography : finding the instrument's body
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blown
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aroun
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words
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baa bbbaaa baa bbaaa
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maybe to walk to another place to
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crying out noiselessly
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only as as horns can
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there be openings
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doors and windows emitting jazz
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hyperinterference
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what else but air pushed and helmeted
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surfacing only to choke
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gored
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PLACE - see nomos and polis
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FORUM -- openings in vowels the eye of
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the bone monkey
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and the child spoke:
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TEXTopenFIELDprojection
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and the snake replied:
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notathought in my head
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everything identityless and intransitive.
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============================================================================
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Purkinge
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--------
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seaworthy yes,
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along the
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river bed it flows like burning gasoline
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but the wind
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FALLING
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jason ate the goat fur
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war is beautiful
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wires & circuits
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eye
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simple shapes
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shadow meaning
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make a coat and lie in it
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at 55 mph
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excitable angles
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drywall lung
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bones rose quivering in the shape of a
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deflection
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incessant exteriorismo
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RIVET
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cross section of human
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tissue
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old synthesizer
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bacteria eat their way to the light
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distracting from the yolk
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mark & tell
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juicey
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whisk mapping
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can't take
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in actu
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depletion
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meant
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he peeled back his scalp and found a guava
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Five trillion cells leaking
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collarbone
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on old shoes
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for forgiveness
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felt like a
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passage of worry
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CO COC a dop pop
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ballistic heart case
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shoelace baiting
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pralines
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windows furnishings of light
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and have their portraits done
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in blue swirls
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in molasses
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coral up
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coupled without eyes or voice
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cowboy's mouth harp
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popsicle dawning
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disengaged from
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fort knox, baby
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quick
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stroking the rock
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emerged a teddy bear of jello
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plastic dispensers
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spoons of doom
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crying mercury
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seduction
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and he coughed the morning's paper
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print and many pictures
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it's this necklace
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fabric why
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pin-striped
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born day
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beading a career
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why it curls
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bright lights the meaning of
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cactus
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since the futurists
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rhinestone coffee
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prickly prickly
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a residue o0f communal meals under
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the rinkydink
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#1 Once #2 only once
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unleashed a field of bees
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umbrella
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spins sheds light
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collapsing lake
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DISTORTIONS
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melty
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and
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magnetism
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don't jump
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all dogs
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all boxes are
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logic
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a great tooth in his arm
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apologized
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the thermos of love
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assignment of sound
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"Crushed on the first attempt, the
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going forward, back
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the small of baseball
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unopened
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circulation
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we do ...
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worried (still)
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insulation, thick and pink, the only
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answer."
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wheezing saxophone
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rattling pain flakes
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==========================================================================
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**************************************************************************
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Thank you for reading inter\face 7. We welcome network contributions.
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Send your texts to: bh4781@thor.albany.edu.
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|
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Distribute this document freely. Please attribute inter\face and the
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individual authors when you use this text. [end]
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***************************************************************************
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