525 lines
26 KiB
Plaintext
525 lines
26 KiB
Plaintext
"I will go mad!" - Arthur Dent
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from the book 'Life the Universe and Everything'
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Thinking .sS$$Ssss.sssS$ $Ssss.sssS$$Ss. Thinking
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`$$$$$$$$$$$$$$' `$$$$$$$$$$$$$$'
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$$$s. s$s .s$$$
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to $S$$ "$:$"""" $$S$ to
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$$$$$ $:$ s$s $$$$$
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$$$$$s $:$ $:$ s$$$$$
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Text `ooo`' s$$s$$s `'ooo' Text
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issue 2
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| TtT #2 |
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INGREDIENTS
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(Warning: reading these stories may cause happiness, excitement or severe
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stomach cramps. Pregnant women should not smoke or drink alcohol either.)
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1. [This is your introduction] .:. by ideal
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2. [Birthday blue bell bottoms] .:. by ideal
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3. [Jimmy's 7th birthday] .:. by ideal
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4. [The question] .:. by ideal
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5. [Bernie the movie buff] .:. by ideal
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6. [Inspired by the masked marauder] .:. by ideal
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7. ['Zines] .:. by ideal
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8. [Goodbye] .:. by ideal
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::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
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THIS IS YOUR INTRODUCTION
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with your host: ideal
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woo!
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issue twoo!
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yessir! TtT is back with issue two. I hope you enjoyed issue one. But if
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not, oh well! i'm here to write, not to cater to your every whim. jeez!
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don't you people think of anyone else but yourselves???
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here are the ways you can contact TtT and get your way.
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email: kevin@mixcom.com
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www: http://www.geocities.com/4280/ttt.html
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ftp: ftp.openix.com/ftp/phorce/ttt
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Okay, well, there were no submissions for this issue but i am hoping that
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will change for issue 3 (hint hint, cough cough). I did, however recieve an
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online critique of issue #1 and i'd like to thank tMM for that.
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well, i'm at a loss for words, so read issue 2 and maybe i will have more to
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say at the end of the zine.
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::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
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BIRTHDAY BLUE BELL BOTTOMS
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by ideal
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My month of may has been very uneventful. I had a birthday
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(woop-de-doo) and not much else really happened.
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Remember when birthdays were such a big deal? Like when you were between the
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ages of 3 and 13, birthdays were the best thing since chicken-flavored ramen
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noodles. Three nights before the big day, you were already making
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preparations and laying out blueprints on your present-opening strategy. Two
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montsh before your birthday, you had a birthday list that looked like the
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Oxford English Dictionary. Yeah, those were the days.
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The big day would arrive and your mom would be preparing the party favors.
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Those things were always the cheapest thing on the market too. If they cost
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more than a buck for a bag of 50, that was way too much. The cake was
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prepared, and the table was cleared so that all of your little friends could
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lay their gifts on it when they arrived. Then the people started coming in.
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They would all be ready for cake while you were always equally ready to open
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their presents.
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However, one of two things would always happen. Either the richest person you
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knew wouldn't show up because of some illness or one of your friends would
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show up without a present. You wanted to kill him, and you always made sure
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that he recieved the smallest piece of cake. Other than that, everything was
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great on your birthday. Even the family get-togethers were enjoyable because
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you got to put your greedy little hands on more presents.
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Those were the good ol' days. But when you turn 14 or 15, birthdays just
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become another reason to go out with your friends and hang out at a bowling
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alley. Your 16th birthday can be okay because that is when you are able to
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get your driver's license but in my opinion, all the waiting at the DMV almost
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isn't worth it.
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I just had my 17th birthday, and what a day it was. A few of my friends went
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to a concert and left me behind, my few remaining friends and I are not on
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real good terms at the moment, and I don't have a girlfriend right now. So,
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I spent my friday night driving around town and making conversation with
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complete strangers. there was no real excitement or buildup. It was just
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another day to me. Maybe next year will be better...who knows?
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::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
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JIMMY'S 7TH BIRTHDAY
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by ideal
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<squeak> <squeak> <squeak>
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"Ooooh that's good Jimmy. Show grandma what you can do. You're such a big
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boy now."
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"That's right gamma! I'm big boy now!"
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<squeak> <squeak> <squeak>
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"Go a little bit faster honey. Show grandma what you can do. Grandma would
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do some of the work but since I'm old and wrinkly, i better let you do it
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all."
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<squeak> <squeak> <squeak> <squeak> <squeak> <squeak>
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"That's better. You can do it harder though. The springs in this thing
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aren't going to break. They're tough as nails. You could bounce an elephant
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on here and they wouldn't break. Show me what you've got Jimmy."
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<Squeak> ...
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"I'm bored. I wanna go play with some of my legos now." said Jimmy.
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"Oh honey, you can't get off now! If you do, I'll have to show you how to
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get on all over again! Just play with Grandma a little bit longer Jimmy.
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Show me the strength you've got! You're such a big boy. Pretty soon you are
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going to be all grown up and I'll have to start calling you sir. Just a
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little bit longer. Please? I don't think I have the strength to start you
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off again." said Jimmy's Grandmother.
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"ooooo-kaaaaay gramma!" pouted Jimmy.
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<SQUEAK><SQUEAK><SQUEAK><SQUEAK><SQUEAK><SQUEAK><THUD><SQUEAK><SQUEAK><THUD>
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<SQUEAK><SQUEAK><SQUEAK><THUD><SQUEAK><THUD><SQUEAK><THUD><SQUEAK><THUD>
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<SQUEAK><THUD><SQUEAK><THUD><SQUEAK><THUD><SQUEAK><THUD><SQUEAK><THUD>
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<THUD><SQUEAK><THUD><SQUEAK><THUD><SQUEAK><THUD><SQUEAK><THUD><SQUEAK><THUD>
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"OOOOH! <hehe> not TOO fast and hard Jimmy! My, Oh my, what a strong boy you
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are. I hadn't realized how much you've grown! If you do it too hard, you
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might break it! You wouldn't want that now would you? Then you couldn't
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play on it with grandma anymore! You're only 7 years old and you want to get
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alot of use out of it don't you?"
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"Yes gramma. I'm gonna go play legos now. OK?"
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"Ok, yes, i suppose we've done enough for today. Give me a kiss Jimmy. Your
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Grandmother doesn't want to miss you too much when you are gone!"
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<SMOOCH>
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Promptly after Jimmy gives his beloved grandmother a wet kiss on the cheek,
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he slides off of his brand new rocking horse. He then trots outside to his
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bike where he rides off to meet his friend Timothy so they can play legos.
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The rocking horse was the best gift he had ever recieved from his grandmother
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but he could only take so much. She had insisted that he ride it all
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morning. Jimmy just hoped that next time he went over to his grandparent's
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house, the springs on the horse were oiled.
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::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
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THE QUESTION
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by ideal
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"Are you afraid of rejection?" was the man's next question.
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The interview had gone quite well up until this point. I had been able to
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pass the management skills test with a perfect score and all of the questions
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the man had asked me recieved and immediate reply along with the fake smile I
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gave all of my potential employers. This job was impor...no, more like vital
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to me. It had everything I needed: good pay, flexible hours, a lot of
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interaction with people, and many advancement opportunities. However, I
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couldn't bring myself to answer the question that was just presented to me.
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Unlike the others, I had to actually think about it...ponder for a moment and
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carefully choose the words that would construct my answer.
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"Are you afraid of rejection?" I thought to myself. That was a funny question
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to ask me.
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I had always been one to express myself in unique ways. I never really cared
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if they were accepted or not... except for when it came to females. In
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school, I had always been the manic-depresssive-hopeless-romantic type.
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Hopeless because i never revealed my romantic side which, in turn, brought
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out my depression. I would often become extremely interested in a girl but
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i wouldn't really take action. I was the kid who sat in the back, did all of
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his homework, and dept his mouth shut. Most of my teenage peers viewed me as
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odd because i would write stories and poetry in my free time. These things
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started to run throught my head. All of the rejections from Katie, Julia,
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all of them. I became rather angry and puzzled as to why these things were
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affecting me during my most important job interview ever. No matter what i
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did, I couldn't shake these thoughts. My mind kept trying to figure out ways
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that these incidents would hinder my working abilities. It was driving me
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crazy.
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These feelings could have been triggered by my low self expectancy. I guess
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you could say i had low self esteem, but you'd be wrong. I had always liked
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myself for who i was. The only thing i didn't enjoy, was my fear of
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rejection from girls. Watching from the side lines was (and still is) more my
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thing. The girls i had intrest in, I would barely talk to unless they were
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already my friends. Never would i ask them out or tell them the feelings
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inside of me. The crazy notion that they would be happier without me would
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always pop into my head. When you got down to it, that's what i truly wanted.
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Not a cheap feel or a romp in the sack, but i wantd them to be happy. It
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would have been better if they were *with me* and happy but i was never one
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to ask for too much.
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Now, I'm out of school, and sitting here in this office answering questions
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that, if answered correctly and honestly, could score me the business
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opportunity of a lifetime. I looked at the inquisitor and noticed his long,
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crimson tie was clinging to his left shirt sleeve. It looked similar to a
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bloody sickle blade. Somehow, it reminded me of Kim. Probably because our
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relationship was much like a sickle blade. We had a curved relationship with
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very sharp consequences.
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Kim was one of the rare people that was unlucky enough to share a rather short
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relationship with me. Even though I am not in love with her anymore (nor do i
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know if i ever was), I still feel a plutonic love of sorts for her. She was,
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quite honestly, the most important person in my life. Our relationship only
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lasted for a span of about three weeks, but it taught me an unbelievable
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amount of information about myself. "God!" I thought. Why did I have to be
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going through an emotional memory relapse here at a job interview? "There is
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no reason my past circumstances with girlfriends should have any bearing on
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this job interview." But it did. I couldn't deny it that the idea of love
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was always affecting my life. There was no way that something that important
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couldn't have an effect on me. The truth is, my past contact with love has
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formed me and made me what i am today. So, I had to deal with it (even at a
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job interview).
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I thought about the rejections I had sustained in the past. Didn't these make
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me stronger? Yes, in a way they did, but it was still a terrible form of
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torture for me. Even when someone I didn't even know would say no to me, I
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would feel a dull pain of failure. So I had reached the answer to the man's
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question. The answer was yes, I was afraid of rejection. Now, I had to pick
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the words to my answer carefully. After all, this was a formal job interview.
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So I calmly filed through my thoughts and opened my mouth to give my
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well-thought answer.
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"No" I said.
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The man behind the desk straightened his tie, made a mark on the paper
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attached to his clipboard, and the interview went on.
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::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
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BERNIE THE MOVIE BUFF
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by ideal
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"Bring out da gimp."
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Bernie was enveloped in darkness. The only light that could, or would, be
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seen through his eyes was the dancing brilliance of the movie projector. The
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color and sound spilled forth onto the silver screen and drilled deep into
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Bernie's soul. He focussed in, simultaneously on each action, each work, each
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color, and each intricate detail of the movie.
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This was his eighteenth time watching Pulp Fiction and he acted like it was
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his first. Bernie was (quite simply) a movie buff. He had aspired to be a
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director, screenwriter, or an actor since his eleventh birthday. today was
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his thirty-first birthday. It's been twenty years and not one of his
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screenplays had been accepted, he was denied entrance to most schools with
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cinema studies, and just four days ago his fiance left him. she said that
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she was fed up with his "neurotic ways" and "Movie-itis". She was the one
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woman that Bernie had ever truly loved but their separation proved that his
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love for movies was greater.
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"Want some bacon?"
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"Naw man, I don't eat pork."
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Tonight, Bernie was at the movies alone. Usually he would come with his only
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friend, Lori, but she had recently become romantically involved with a
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football coach appropriately named Biff. She used to be as passionate about
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movies as Bernie, but her biological clock was grinding it's gears and she
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needed to find some oil for it.
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Bernie was alone. And i don't mean just alone tonight. He was severely,
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internally alone. Passing the time was a chore because the screenplays he
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slaved over were never accepted and he had severe trouble paying for his
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acting classes. Nothing was working for him except for the movies. The
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movies were always there for him. Through thick or thin, he could always stop
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and say hello to the ones he looked up to the most: DeNiro, Tarantino,
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Hitchcock, Chan...they were all there.
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"And you will know my name is the lord! When i lay my vengeance upon thee!"
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<BLAM> <BLAM> <BLAM>
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The movie was over and the projection man had started it over. The comforting
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sound of the hollywood gunshots did something to Bernie. They made him
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realize that all of his stress, all of his sorrows didn't matter. He knew
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now that movies were his salvation and that's when the string snapped and the
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kite of sanity flew away.
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Bernie sprung up and screamed a loud, bellowing scream of victory. He had
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simply cracked. Some insane, primal instinct told him for no particular
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reason that he was victorious. No one understood his passion for movies so
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he decided to travel the whole road of misunderstanding. Eagerly running
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around the room, he started to destroy everthing. After successfully tearing
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a huge rip in the silver screen and destroying a whole row of movie seats, he
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found himself in handcuffs and was being shoved into the back of a squad car.
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..:1 year later:..
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In a small white room with cushions on the floor and walls, Bernie sat with a
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laptop computer. The tippety tappety sounds of his typing could be heard
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echoing down the halls of Westbrook Asylum. He was denied the use of pencils
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and pens because of their sharp, pointy edges. Ever since the incident at the
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movie theater, Bernie had spent his time in counciling and therapy sessions.
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Otherwise, he was typing movie scripts. The odd thing was, all of his new
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scripts were sold and transformed into movies. A bigshot hollywood producer
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got the idea in his head that movies by madmen would make him millions. He
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was right.
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Bernie's lifelong dream was coming true. His scripts were selling! Even
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though he would never recieve the chance to act or direct, he was quite
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content. However, since his admittance into the asylum, he hadn't cared for
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money much. So instead of using his money he recieved for his screenplays to
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recieve help, he simply ate the checks he was given. When the asylum officials
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witnessed this, they tried to get him to sign his checks so that they could
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use the money themselves. He never did. The only thing he ever used money
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for was his laptop computer. The rest of it either got thrown out or digested
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in his ulcer-ridden stomach. Bernie was, however, happy. Everyone left him
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to his screenwriting and his occasional session of bouncing off of his
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cushioned walls. Those were his favorite activities and he had a huge amount
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of trouble thinking about anything other than the asylum or movies. Even when
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he won an academy award for best screenplay, all he said was "I wish the asylum
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would get better food."
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INSPIRED BY THE MASKED MARAUDER
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by ideal
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After reading Relish #3...More specifically, after reading 'the joys of
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friendship' in relish #3, something just kind of hit me. I actually started
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to cry. That's right, I cried. You thought all males ages 16+ were too
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proud to cry right? Well, you were wrong. I'm 17 and I think that men who
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don't cry are cowards. Afraid to show their inner feelings. I _feel_ god
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dammit, I'm a fucking human. So, if you don't like it, you can make fun of
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me, ignore me... do whatever inflates your stereotypical ego. I don't care.
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I cry and I'm not afraid to admit it.
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The reason I cried is because I, too, am going through some serious problems
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with my friends. So Chris, all i have is empathy for you bro. I hope things
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get better somehow.
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His article inspired me to "Let it all out". I don't know how this will turn
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out, I'm just going to write. So here it goes...
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=====
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I can't believe how bad it's gotten between me and Pete. We used to do
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everything together. Everything! Then we let our seperate intrests for the
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same girl come between us. He actually thought I was in _love_ with her. It
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was true that I payed more attention to her than i did to Pete or Mike at
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times, but I was interested in her. What could I do? I'm only human.
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Well sooner than later, he told me how he felt (through e-mail of course
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because he was too much of a coward to talk about it with me.) Then it came
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down to lying. He didn't want me to hang out with him because of my
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depression (which he thought was due to the girl) so he lied to me. I didn't
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think friends lied to each other.
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Anyways, after the e-mail, our conversation frequency decreased substantially.
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We stopped hanging out together and he never really knew my true feelings and
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reasons for depression. His fictional assumptions mutated into his own
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delusional reality.
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It seemed so weird that Pete (along with some of my other good friends) would
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abandon me because of one quality they didn't like. They had numerous
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qualities that I didn't like but I still accepted them as people.
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It really really sucks. I love those guys. I spent the majority of one year
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doing everything with them and now, even on my birthday, none of them even
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talk to me. The only thing Pete graces me with is silence.
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His silence makes him look like he is in third grade. It also makes me hurt
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with an unbelievable pain. We don't talk anymore. It's driving me
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insane. If i didn't write, I don't know what I would do.
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To give you an example of what it is like, here is the last conversation
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we had. It went down like this.
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"What's up?" I asked
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"Oh, here's a pen...see ya!" he replied as he scurried away.
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Yep, and that conversation took place 2 weeks ago. He acts like he's too
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cool to talk to me anymore and it hurts. I've turned into some kind of
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dangerous weapon that scars his image.
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I guess he isn't my friend anymore. But i still consider myself a friend of
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his because i would do a hell of a lot for the fucker.
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Pete, if you ever read this, I'm still your bud...Have a good life and I hope
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you stay happy.
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=====
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Thanks tMM, I don't think i could have gotten this out without reading your
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article first. I know it is a very stream-of-consciousness type of story but
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you should all try to understand that it's very helpful in starting to close
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some open wounds.
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::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
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'ZINES
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by ideal
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'zines.
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there sure are alot of good ones out there. 'zines are the start of the
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literary revolution. independent publishers producing works of are and
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excercising their rights granted to them by the first amendment. who could
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ask for anything more?
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me! (of course)
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ok, heres the deal. when i sit down and read a 'zine, i want to read
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something that was written because the author wanted to write. the quality
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of writing or the grammer doesn't even have to be that good. what i don't
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want to read is a 'zine that is such an obvious rip-off. they are usually a
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cheap attempt at becoming accepted in the 'zine world.
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if you want the respect of mogel or someone else, buy him a car. don't let
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your cat walk on your keyboard and release the results as a 'zine.
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alot of new 'zines have been popping up (especially e-zines) and a lot of
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them are worthless attempts at becoming an accepted 'zinester. they are very
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difficult to read and are not worthy of the disk space they take up. there
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is no valid motive behind them and deffinately no emotion or devotion in the
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writers.
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i'm not saying all the new 'zines are bad. after all, i just started this
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'zine a month ago. i know it's not top-notch writing quality, but that's not
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what i created it for. i created it because i love to write. i'm sure if
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you read this 'zine, you probably realize that i'm really not trying to
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please anyone except myself. of course, i feel very happy when some likes it
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but you don't see me changing it for those who don't just for the sake of fitting
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in.
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now, some of the new 'zines i have read are very good. i am always happy when
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a new writer releases quality work. i just don't like seeing people take
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advantage of the simplicity in releasing an e-zine. it is taken for granted
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all too much. i sometimes wonder how many of today's e-zine writers would
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still write if releasing a 'zine was more complicated. i know i would.
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alas, the passion does not reside within us all.
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::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
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GOODBYE
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by ideal
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Well, that's enough. I think the issue turned out pretty good. If you have
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anything to say to me about it or if you would like to submit, e-mail me.
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Here's the infoez again.
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email: kevin@mixcom.com
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ftp: ftp.openix.com/ftp/phorce/ttt
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www: http://www.geocities.com/athens/4280/ttt.html (the page will be fixed
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and redone soon)
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I'd just like to comment on a few things before i leave you unfulfilled and
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dissappointed. I have read many zines this past month and i find it utterly
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amazing how much i can relate with most of the zine writers. The three zines
|
|
that i relate with the most are 'Slinky', 'Relish', and 'Jonas'. Those three
|
|
zines, btw, are my three favorite zines out there today. They continue to
|
|
inspire me every time i read them. The writers (Belial, edi, tMM, and cerkit)
|
|
have all put out alot of good stuff to read this past month.
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I don't know, maybe we are all drawn to the zine scene because we DO think so
|
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much alike. All i know is that Belial's article "Did you love her?" and tMM's
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article "the joys of friendship" can really relate to my life right now. (among
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|
other articles) Thanks guys, for producing great zines and staying true in
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your articles.
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There were alot of other good zines this month also. Such as DTO's love issue
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(it is my favorite dto yet). I am just so sorry that i can't remember all of the
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good ones off the top of my head. But whoever you are, KEEP IT UP!
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I guess, i'll do some greet-type-things now.
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tMM: hey, thanks for the critique of issue #1 and thanks for putting out such
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a rad relish issue. You've been really supportive since i've joined the
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scene and i just want you to know i appreciate it.
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creed: just for being so cool and cuz you like the Smashing Pumpkins so much.
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|
besides, who else could run a dumb ol' zine like y0lk and make it worth
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|
reading. :)
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edi: Jonas!! What can i say, i love it, i worship it, it's a part of me.
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Jest: I loved your slinky submission.
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i'm running low on excess words, so i'm just gonna list the others i want
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to greet.
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crank, Gaurdian, mogel (mogel loves me, mogel loves you), murmur, tao, jamesy,
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pip, phorce, mercuri, kojak, juke, mindcrime, joltcola, bF, handle
|
|
anyone-else-on-#zines-that-i-forgot, all the doods in the 414, and anyone else
|
|
who i forgot that's not a dick to me
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::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
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__________________/\__________________
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\______ _____| |_____ ______/
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| | `"| |"" | |
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| | | | | |
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| | | | | |
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| | | | | |
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| | | | | |
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| | | |_, | |
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| | \_-" | |
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| |thinkingtotext| |
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| | issue #2 | |
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\ | -released- | /
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\| -05.27.96- |/
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::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
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"It's a metaphor for big dicks...dick dick dick dick dick dick dick"-Mr. Brown
|
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from the movie 'Reservoir Dogs'
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