132 lines
5.1 KiB
Plaintext
132 lines
5.1 KiB
Plaintext
,...
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$$$$
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$$$$T""P$$$ba, ,gd&P""T&bg. ,gd&P""T&bg.
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ggggggggggg $$$$ $$$$$b d$$$$ $$$$b d$$$$ $$$$$b ggggggggggg
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""""""""""" $$$$ $$$$$$ $$$$$ $$$$$ $$$$$bxxP&$$&P """""""""""
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$$$$ $$$$$$ T$$$$ $$$$P T$$$$
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$$$"""""" " """" $$$$$$ "T&$bxxd$&P" "T&$bxx$$$$$' " """"""$$$
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""" """""" """
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ggg "A Different Kind of Man" ggg
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$$$ by -> Anodyne $$$
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$$$ $$$
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$$$ [ HOE E-Zine #985 -- 12/23/99 -- http://www.hoe.nu ] .,$$$
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`"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""'
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"...This is completely spontaneous.
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This is a new style.
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This is comin' straight out of my keyboard and touchin' you deep.
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You'll be laughing after the first sentence and crying after the
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second, and I'll take it from there.
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The sermon on the mount.
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I'm the Dr. Jones of text, findin' the Grail and pasting it in
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fully preserved.
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This is the zenith; stop looking in Florida, Ponce, you can live
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forever here and, hell with it, all your little bearers are invited too.
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It sure ain't all serious though.
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How much of that is true?
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I should put more gems in and save the liquid silver for garnish.
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I could go for some chips right now.
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Inspired or insipid, it doesn't matter since they'll bite the worm
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anyway because they're always ravenous. Everybody's little voice inside
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whispers of mysteries never encountered. They could be around the next
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corner or behind the wall. But they can't find it here unless I make
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these words a mirror, because that's where they'll find it all. They'll
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find it all inside and outside and within and through and over and
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under, and that's the only place it can be found. In the yellowed tooth
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and ill-healed wound and the smiley-face sticker on an A+ paper, they'll
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find everything. They won't even look hard because the more they look
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the less they'll see because they'll be looking too hard. It'll be tough
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to comprehend. Sure, it might hurt at first but then happiness will tuck
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you in tonight and every night.
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Don't listen to your father.
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/ \
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m o r n i n g
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w | | o o d
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(| |)
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that sure wasn't literary but it happens to many of us,
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and that makes it worthwhile. The textbook says to speak to the
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human condition, and that's what I'll do.
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They'll have to do half the work. I can only do so much because
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I'm tired and after all I already wrote today, so it won't be good unless
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you read in the quality. It doesn't have to be good, though. No
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pressure.
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Dark and light and good and evil may be the two sides of the coin,
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but who wants coins when you can have crisp bills and the blackjack table
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at Monte Carlo. Scarne says to watch out for cheats and I trust him.
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Scene: Christmas morning, 1987.
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Child walks down stairs.
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<camera follow>
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<camera pans left -- pile of presents covered with
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the motes of light from a central multifaceted ball (can
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you feel the tension?) and (wait for it)...>
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IT'S DISCO SANTA!
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Complete with chest hair and polyester, that jolly old elf dances
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up the chimney with the best of 'em.
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Sounds groovy, baby.
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How long can this shit keep flowing? C'mon, ride it out with me
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pardner, only twelve more miles till Mexico and that's really where we're
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all headed. Tijuana doesn't seem like much until you've slept face first
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in ethanol-drenched sawdust on a saloon floor, trust me. That's the kind
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of local color you need to appreciate such a distinguished destination.
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You say it's incoherent and I say it drips from my tongue like
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caramel. Agreement is what we need right now. Lets oust this dictator
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Death and make Life lead the junta.
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There is no dearth of honesty among thieves and liars, they're
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only missing some spark of spirit. I think the spark could have been
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found in it the bottle of Sprite that you had last Tuesday. It was
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refreshingly citrus but you didn't notice because you guzzled it. That's
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what the thief does. He takes life and just sucks it down and asks for
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more and more and he never looks at what's in his hands before it's
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hawked and up in smoke again. There is such a thing as too much but you
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can't know when to stop or start, it's intuition or nothing from here on
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in and like madmen we tumble ahead.
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I can feel your furnace. One finger inside, then another. You
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shudder. My tongue darts toward the shrine...
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Fuck that, it's fucking. Eat that bitch out. Better yet, make
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her suck it. What kind of man are you, anyway?
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A different kind of man.
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I want to be a different kind of man.
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Every day I'm a different kind of man.
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Stop fooling around and write, damnit.
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This is more completely spontaneous.
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This is a newer style..."
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-- the author preparing to write a text file
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[--------------------------------------------------------------------------]
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[ (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #985, BY ANODYNE - 12/23/99 ]
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