119 lines
6.6 KiB
Plaintext
119 lines
6.6 KiB
Plaintext
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ooooo ooooo .oooooo. oooooooooooo HOE E'ZINE RELEASE #509
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`888' `888' d8P' `Y8b `888' `8
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888 888 888 888 888 "Realistic Fabrication"
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888ooooo888 888 888 888oooo8
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888 888 888 888 888 " by Trilobyte
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888 888 `88b d88' 888 o 3/8/99
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o888o o888o `Y8bood8P' o888ooooood8
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bad man lived in a bad apartment on the bad part of the city in
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which he lived. he stayed up very late at night and thought about all the
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things in his life. he didn't sleep much but lived his life in a constant
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unconscious dreamy state, thinking about things like one would think of
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things when one was asleep. people would see him and think that he was
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not asleep, when in fact, he was. and in his apartment he had a stove and
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on that stove was a light and a fan, and he would turn on the fan when he
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couldn't sleep, which was always, and it made a nice humming sound that
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helped him to relax, the constant droning. the light gave just enough
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light to put the room at a comfortable level of darkness so as to not
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annoy his eyes, which were always tired, and this helped his head, which
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was affected heavily by the health of his eyes.
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in his apartment was a chair, and on this chair he often sat, and
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he thought, and thought, and he thought.
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and he didn't do much, he always had money and was always worldly
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comfortable. he didn't need to work to be a part of the world, things
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general people need were at his disposal, and he used them, as most people
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do.
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and he thought. his thoughts may have had significance, he didn't
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know, he tried not to think about the significance of his thoughts. he
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just thought.
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he would go outside, mostly asleep, yet wide awake, and people
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looked at him oddly, as if he were sleepwalking. different expressions on
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each day, disapproving or quizzical looks... he was accustomed, they were
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commonplace, it was his life and this is what people thought of it. they
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certainly did not devote large periods of time to development of thoughts
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about him, his life, his thoughts. they would see him and make a certain
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expression, based on their immediate evaluation of his outward appearance,
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and move on to thoughts of busywork, bad man thought, busywork and useless
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things, things not helping them get anywhere, he thought.
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maybe their expressions, though, were based on spiritual notions --
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things that only badman could perceive and they could ignore. though
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badman didn't understand these notions, at least he could fathom their
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existence, which certainly wasn't possible in the feeble brains of nearly
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EVERYONE around him.
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and someday would come the one who would make the normal expression.
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she would see bad man, she would understand, she would not make bad
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expression. she may make good, smile. badman certainly would know this
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girl, certainly he would have known her long ago, they would have had
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their moments together. badman realized the possibility of past lives, he
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was open to any of these thoughts. he weighed the possibility of past
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lives coming into play in the modern world and notably tried to ignore
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their relevance, though, opting instead to focus on more tangible thoughts
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and tangible people, people he has touched, there had been that indentation
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there...
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he thought people talked often about the *spark* between two people,
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but love isn't a *spark* -- love is an *indentation*. if badman once
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touched a girl's back. a spark appeared and immediately disappeared.
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that's *nothing*. *love* is the pressing, it is when bad man pushes his
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finger ever so lightly into the skin, and removes -- a white spot,
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surrounded by red, an indentation that stays for a moment, in the mind and
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in the heart.
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perhaps the *spark* people so often speak of is a *sexual* *spark*
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but bad man wasn't a *sexual* person when it came down to it. though past
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encounters had driven him to *sexual* ways of thought, long deep thought
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about the subject had led him _out_ of the realm of *sex*. he, at this
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point in the world, was back in the world of *love*, which is not the world
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of *sex*, you can have one or the other or you can have both, and he knew,
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for sure, certainly, and definitely, that one had to come before the other,
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and that one is only good when accompanied by the other. what is the
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order? that knowledge would come after longer sessions of thought, he
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hadn't been thinking about that much, because he had just come to the
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realization that his *love* had simply disappeared. had it been removed?
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forcefully? had it been stolen? and not returned? is it gone? does it
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grow? is it a plant? is there a seed? is it a constant force, like
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gravity? if gravity and love can be related to each other, then can two
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people be pulled to each other like the force of gravity?
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what, then, would keep this love together once the earth has
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exploded and people only remain as hunks of mangled flesh? oh, it
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certainly is still there. it can't be seen, it would be one of those
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forces we don't understand.
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bad man has been to the desert. bad man knows how it feels. you
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can see heat. you can taste sweat. but you *feel* desolation.
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just as you feel *love*. you feel that indentation in your back.
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and someone will see bad man, she will, someone bad man knew, knows,
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someone not in bad man's immediate life, badman will be near her, in
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passing? by choice? by accident? it won't be like other people with bad
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man. they look at him and don't understand. she will look at him and
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*accept*. bad man never has needed to be *accepted*. bad man has not
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*been* *accepted*. but that moment will come, when she sees him, he sees
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her, they are a realm of acceptance.
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and bad man closes his thoughts, before drifting off into
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closed-eyed sleep, knowing that this will happen, it will, acceptance, by
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the one with whom it matters. it matters only with one. that will come.
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bad man will sleep in his chair in his apartment, with his fan on,
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his brain will create elaborate tales of love lost, life to be loved, and
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only then, with eyes closed, brain open, bad man will see life after he is
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accepted, how it will be. a glimpse into the future.
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dreams are fantastic realization
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and days are realistic fabrication.
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[ (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #509 - WRITTEN BY: TRILOBYTE - 3/8/99 ]
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