141 lines
7.8 KiB
Plaintext
141 lines
7.8 KiB
Plaintext
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ooooo ooooo .oooooo. oooooooooooo HOE E'ZINE RELEASE #879
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`888' `888' d8P' `Y8b `888' `8
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888 888 888 888 888 "This Obsession"
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888ooooo888 888 888 888oooo8
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888 888 888 888 888 " by Phairgirl
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888 888 `88b d88' 888 o 10/16/99
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o888o o888o `Y8bood8P' o888ooooood8
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I am obsessed with music. I have said this many times before.
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Some say I'm completely crazy, off my rocker, insane, because I spend
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all the money I don't have on music in any way, shape, or form. I devote
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much time that could be used toward wonderful things instead to listening to
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music. Others who share my kind of passion still often have a hard time
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understanding why I can be completely obsessive-compulsive, why I can buy a
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CD and never ever listen to it, why I can listen to the same CD fifty times
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in a row, or why I would gladly give up all the music in the world as long
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as I were left with "Space-Dye Vest," my favorite song of all time, which
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was written by Kevin Moore (formerly of Dream Theater) and has been recorded
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both solo and with his ex-bandmates (lyrics can be found on my website,
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http://phairgirl.tripod.com/songs/space-dye.html). I suppose it's all about
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who I am, what I have done, how I feel...
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[-----]
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He was my first love, or so I thought. Everything in my life, I
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rested upon his shoulders, somehow thinking that through all my
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tribulations, he would get me through it all. Even when he would go off
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with his friends when he was supposed to meet me, or would rather spend his
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time in mixed company than alone with me, it was alright. He had once told
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me that he loved me, or at least that he was falling in love with me. And
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that was enough to carry me through.
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We were apart for a summer, and I went to visit him when I could, an
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hour and a half's ride in a shitty car away. He hadn't changed; he was just
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as vibrant, as jumpy, as downright silly as I had left him. He was sexy, in
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a way... definitely NOT in a conventional way... but I was definitely drawn
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to his manner and charisma. Most people would die for that charisma. I saw
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nothing beyond that charisma.
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I didn't really know much about him. He was always so very
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secretive. He had just moved here from a much larger town quite a while
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away, and before that, other places, other states. He never volunteered
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anything from his past, anything about himself, anything that might show who
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was hiding under that facade. Of course, I saw no facade, I only thought I
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saw him. And it didn't even bother me that his ex-girlfriend's pictures
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still graced his room, as I knew he cared for her a lot and she had left
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him only because he had to move.
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One of our mutual good friends suddenly came back into the picture
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after an unusually manipulative relationship of hers had ended. She hadn't
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been allowed to spend time with us, to talk to us, anything... it was good
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to have her back. And at this point, he was also back from his time away
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from me, but things were strained. He was even more distant, more unwilling
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to connect. I had inquired as to why he shared nothing about himself... his
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response was simply to ask if there was anything I wanted to know. I didn't
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know where to start, so I left it up to him. I learned nothing.
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I spoke to my friends about this distance. I still loved him... I
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wanted nothing more than to be with him, to be blinded and disoriented by
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him, to be manipulated and controlled by him. He was all I had, he was all
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I had ever had, he was everything. I played Liz Phair's "Fuck and Run" a
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lot. I knew things needed to be fixed, that things were deteriorating, but
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I wasn't going to let it fail. I couldn't let him go.
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He almost stopped being around me completely, certainly not without
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an entire entourage. He spent much more time talking to my friends,
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charismatically flirting with them all, just like always, except this time
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he left me out. That damned charisma. I couldn't let him go, even though
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he was walking away right in front of me.
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He was always so funny... I was always laughing... he was such an
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eccentric... he was just plain weird. I loved his complexities, his
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oddities, his bizarre obsessions for british sci-fi, Led Zeppelin, Magic:
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The Gathering, baseball, and lizards. I could drink him up. He was so
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non-Iowa, so non-hick, yet still fit in somewhere in the fabric of
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everything around him. And most of all, there was his mind... so rare to
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find intelligent people these days, those days, or any days. He resisted
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arguing, which was disappointing, but nonetheless his opinions held true.
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It was through a bizarre accusation of obsession with another that
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finally led to the demise of our relationship. I had this horrid gut
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feeling that his trademark flirtations were for real, that he had focused on
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that friend of ours that we hadn't seen all summer. I swore I was going
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crazy... that there was no way in the world he would ever want to leave me.
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After all, he was the one who had told me he loved me. Or at least, had
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once told me that he thought he was in love with me. A horrible phone call
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two days later only confirmed my suspicions, straight from his mouth. I
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fell to pieces.
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At first, I pleaded with my friend to let his infatuation go, for her
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to be a friend and let us repair our relationship. But after discussing
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this at great length with her, I quickly noticed his feeling for her was so
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very mutual. It was time to concede and let nature do its thing.
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I tried so hard to just let things be. I tried to be a good friend
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to them both, to let nature take its course, but I found I couldn't watch
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any longer. I told them both I could never speak with them either again...
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this would never sit right with me... and that I was simply to scarred to
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heal. They were upset, but found some way to understand, together, of
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course.
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Ohhhhhhh... words can not describe... the spiral... the awful... the
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feelings... I fell to pieces... I ceased to survive... I couldn't think... I
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couldn't live... I couldn't love anything... I didn't love myself... but
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worst of all, the betrayal... the awful, horrible betrayal... my so-called
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friends... I had told them all my feelings... I had shared everything inside
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of me... they knew everything about me... I cared for them so much... and it
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was all taken from me... all gone.. I had no one.
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No one.
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Nothing.
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I became what I was feeling. I curled up into myself. I ceased to
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exist in functional society. Everything from then on was simply going
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through the motions. I found new friends, but unlike the others, they were
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simply left in a map of mystery. I existed, but I shared nothing. I had
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fun, but it was all someone else's idea. I was still in love with the idea
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of the love that I had. I missed being in love, as fucked up as it might
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have been.
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I remember coming home one day, months after the entire ordeal had
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ended. I remember walking down my alley, listening to a copy of Dream
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Theater's "Awake" and not focusing on anything... just existing... just
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going home. Suddenly, something on that tape had caught my attention. I
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paid intense attention... and I broke down crying. I had found something
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that spoke for everything I had experienced in the past year. I had found a
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song that was written just for me, just to heal me, just to change me. It
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was the last song on the tape, one that I hadn't cared for much in the past,
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"Space-Dye Vest." I could hardly walk home, I was shaking... crying... and
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healing.
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Four years later, I am still shaking.
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[ (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #629-WRITTEN BY: PHAIRGIRL - 10/16/99 ]
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