47 lines
2.8 KiB
Plaintext
47 lines
2.8 KiB
Plaintext
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ooooo ooooo .oooooo. oooooooooooo HOE E'ZINE RELEASE #644
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`888' `888' d8P' `Y8b `888' `8
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888 888 888 888 888 "Seemingly Random"
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888ooooo888 888 888 888oooo8
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888 888 888 888 888 " by: RottenZ
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888 888 `88b d88' 888 o 5/17/99
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o888o o888o `Y8bood8P' o888ooooood8
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It was a complicated expression of love, lust, and passion; equally
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sprayed on all the walls of the public bathroom. It made Theo want to
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vomit. In fact, it did make him vomit, on the left wall, thus completely
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obliterating the delicate equilibrium previously created in careful, broad
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strokes. Theo never did like art.
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It began that day as it began every day, a seemingly random bookend
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to another controlled moment in existence. The concept of Art, in the
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broadest sense, sickened him always, but it was punctuated by his
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breakfast, a carefully metered creation of egg and toast, making its own
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Art, something that the surrealists would have been proud of if they hadn't
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been killed during the war. He felt suffocated, so much so that he failed
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to breath properly, and he did what was natural. Such a long bout with
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madness for such a short life, it was quite the delicate crime.
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Order or Entropy, it didn't matter. Nothing did, except for the
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complex and seemingly ingrained illusion of Art that bled into every aspect
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of a modern life. Bled like a vein, wrested open by a sort of forced
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attrition, a demand that the world that engulfed him be adorned by the
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subtle patterns of Art. It surrounded him and he found, even in the most
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mundane, the roots of the sublime. The sublime caused, within his stomach,
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such pain that he guessed one of these days he might die of shock. Divine
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Inspiration was akin to the war. 22 million incomprehensible expressions,
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their art sprayed across the ruins of Europe.
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Theo saw it everywhere; in the contours of the box of Wheaties. In
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the tops of Elmer's Glue. In the day-glow architecture of the new
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theme-restaurant that had sprung up overnight in his neighborhood. A
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casual throwback to genius, that kind of genius that stabbed at his heart.
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Theo saw it here, three colors, red, blue, green. Surrounding the bathroom,
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carefully ordered, delicate balance. Like an onion, layer on layer. So he
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puked on it, and moved along. Just like every other day. Seemingly random
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actions, themselves accidental bouts of creation.
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[ (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #644 - WRITTEN BY: ROTTENZ - 5/17/99 ]
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