101 lines
6.4 KiB
Plaintext
101 lines
6.4 KiB
Plaintext
s$
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$$ .d""b. .d""b. HOE E'ZINE #1060
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[-- $$""b. $$ $$ $$ $$ -- ------------------------------------------- --]
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$$ $$ $$ $$ $$ss$$ "Strike The Surface"
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$$ $$ $$ $$ $$ by Jam Master
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$$ $$ $$ $$ $$ $$ 4/7/00
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[-- $$ $$ $$ $$ $$ $$ -- ------------------------------------------- --]
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$$ $$ "TssT" "TssT"
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I was just surfing the web minding my own lonesome and I
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discovered that there was this thing called HOE and I read some and it was
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amazing! All of these amazing talented files by amazing talented people!
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People writing left and right. Like I always wanted to...
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So I figured I'd try writing a file. I asked someone what I
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should write about and they said "Write what you know is true." So I
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figured I'd write about what I know is true.
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Then I realized I really don't know anything is true unless it's
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in the immediate range of my senses. And even then, my senses have been
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wrong before. I don't know if anything is true. Maybe nothing is. But I
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know what seems to be true and maybe I should write about that.
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Well, I know that too many people are preoccupied with the idea
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that their fellow men are evil and vile. I don't know why, but it seems
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like I can ask anyone, and they'll tell me that Hell is other people.
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Other people are so vile and cruel. Awful to themselves and each other.
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Maybe this is a truth; but is the preoccupation a legitimate one? What I
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mean to say is, presuming that the world is populated exclusively by evil
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people, seeing that this seems to be a fundamental truth of everyone's
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world view, is it something to also be obsessed with? There are lot of
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good ways for a man to be wicked. Is it really worth the obsession?
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Can't we just move beyond it?
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Secondly, I'd like to address this so called truth. I don't
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believe it. It might seem that everyone around you is a vile shit eating
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son of a bitch, but I would propose that they're merely just inept. It
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takes a lot for someone to be wholly good or wholly bad, but it doesn't
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take anything to be mediocre. And that's really just what these people
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are. Mediocre. You live in a mundane world and they're just living
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manifestations of it.
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I used to like video games a lot. I owned a Nintendo. I'd like
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to know why the Nintendo was such a popular machine when the Sega Master
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System co-existed in the same market place. Have you ever looked at the
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color palette on your typical NES game and then contrasted it with the
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color palette of something like Alex Kidd in Miracle World? It's the
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difference between the middle ages and the renaissance. And yet the
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period of darkness won out with a vast market superiority. What does this
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say about us? What does this say about me, who owned the NES? I loved
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those fucking games, man, I *loved* them. Ninja Gaiden, Super Mario 3,
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Black Trout Bass Fishery, anything. I'd play it and love it. I can't
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look at them now. They make me sick.
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There are a lot of good ways for a man to be wicked. I worry
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about God entirely too much. If God exists, why does he allow all this
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greed and contemptible seed to continue? Is he a benign or malign
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creator? I've met some girls who would be primo evidence for the latter
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category.
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Speaking of girls, let me set a scene for you; how I clipt those
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angel wings off a girl who looked more like Axl Rose than any person I've
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ever met. Hated her from the moment of sight. Something though, gave me
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that old smile and I knew I need to go for the gold. That light cropping
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of blondish red pubic hair. That's neither here nor there. She wore
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angel wings. I pluckt them. The next day, I couldn't even bring myself
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to speak with her. But her door was across the hall from the bathroom.
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A lesson learned. Fucking go.
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I've been told that learning how to play an instrument is a
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rewarding and edifying experience. Perhaps it is, but it seems like I'd
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be buying into a world of bullshit. I can't stand people who try to
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affect an emotional catharsis from music. I loathe it openly. I can't
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stand people who stand around looking at paintings in museums. Which
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isn't to say I dislike art or music; far from it. I just question the
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self-congratulatory aspect of them. Can a person affect an abstracted
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enjoyment of them without in some way relating it to themselves, and
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giving them self a pat on the back for "getting it"? Feeling the singer's
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pain, which is, in fact, their own? Too many people embrace something,
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anything, just because that want that one true thing which is their own
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and no one else's. And it doesn't matter what it is, there's no attention
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paid to detail, just the broad strokes of its very existence. Does it
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matter that you're listening to the worst thing ever recorded or reading
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the worst book ever written? That, to avoid having to share a common
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experience, you'll embrace the most amateur artistic endeavors ever put
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to medium? Do you even think? Can you?
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I used to be in love. Sure, I've been in love, hundreds of times,
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but this one was different. This was the real thing, or the closest I've
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been to it. Someone compared true love to the Holy Grail and they weren't
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wrong. It's the unobtainable. I remember a movie I saw where the lead
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actor said, "No matter how long a man lives he will never know the true
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nature of his wife." The person opposite of you, the one with whom you
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wish you could experience everything, is the ultimate unknowable. You can
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know your friends and you can know your family, but you'll never be able
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to know the people you fall in love with. Remember all these little
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tricks you do and all the things you keep hidden from them? You don't
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have any real reason for them, but you keep them all the same. Well, let
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me clue you in: the person you love does the exact same thing.
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I didn't intend this file to be structure like this, with one
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paragraph addressing one thought after another, but I wanted to write what
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I knew was true, and this seems to be the only way I can do it without
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being utterly didactic and insulting. maybe I haven't even begun to
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strike the surface. Maybe none of this is true. But at the very least, I
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tried to give you what seems to me, in my limited perspective of a limited
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viewpoint of a limited world, to be most true.
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[-------------------------------------------------------------------------]
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[ (c) HOE E'ZINE -- http://www.hoe.nu #1060, BY JAM MASTER - 4/07/00 ]
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