2175 lines
114 KiB
Plaintext
2175 lines
114 KiB
Plaintext
Living in such a state taTestaTesTaTe etats a hcus ni gniviL
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of mind in which time sTATEsTAtEsTaTeStA emit hcihw ni dnim of
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does not pass, space STateSTaTeSTaTeStAtE ecaps ,ssap ton seod
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does not exist, and sTATeSt oFOfOfo dna ,tsixe ton seod
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idea is not there. STatEst ofoFOFo .ereht ton si aedi
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Stuck in a place staTEsT OfOFofo ecalp a ni kcutS
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where movements TATeSTa foFofoF stnemevom erehw
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are impossible fOFoFOf elbissopmi era
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in all forms, UsOFofO ,smrof lla ni
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physical and nbEifof dna lacisyhp
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or mental - uNBeInO - latnem ro
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your mind is UNbeinG si dnim rouy
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focusing on a unBEING a no gnisucof
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lone thing, or NBeINgu ro ,gniht enol
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a lone nothing. bEinGUn .gnihton enol a
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You are numb and EiNguNB dna bmun era ouY
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unaware to events stneve ot erawanu
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taking place - not -iSSuE- ton - ecalp gnikat
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knowing how or what THiRTY-ONE tahw ro woh gniwonk
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to think. You are in 11/25/96 ni era uoY .kniht ot
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a state of unbeing.... ....gniebnu fo etats a
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--SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB--
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CONTENTS OF THiS iSSUE
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=----------------------=
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EDiTORiAL Kilgore Trout
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STAFF LiSTiNGS
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[=- ARTiCLES -=]
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MiND PROBE #7: Dark Crystal Sphere Floating Between Two Universes,
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Liminality, and the Weird Tale Noni Moon
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AN ELECTiON 1996 RETROSPECTiVE, or,
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WHY THE ANARCHiST VOTED THEOCRATiC Crux Ansata
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SOCiAL FABRiCATiON Belgrave
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[=- POETASTRiE -=]
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THE DRAGON StormChaser
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DON'T STOP SWAYiNG StormChaser
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[=- FiCTiON -=]
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GREECE Crux Ansata
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PEAS ON EARTH Clockwork
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MENTAL MALPRACTiCE Kilgore Trout
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--SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB--
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EDiTORiAL
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by Kilgore Trout
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Turning twenty-one is not as exciting as it should be, especially when
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your parents, avid disdainers of alcohol, think it would be cute to buy a
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bottle of non-alcoholic champagne for their son who is now of legal age.
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I'm still wondering if I should just show up on the front porch with a
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huge bottle of vodka and ask them to join me. That would probably be bad
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form, and considering that I am still leeching off of them for my college
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education, I try to be nice to them, even if they are a little backwards.
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But that's okay. Because now, birthdays don't hold important meanings
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anymore. When I turned 15, I got a driver's permit. At 16, I got my license.
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At 17, I could get into R-rated movies all the time. At 18, I could legally
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buy cigarettes and pornography (way too much of the former[1], hardly any of
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the latter[2]). At 19, I was out of high school and in college. At twenty, I
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was no longer a teenager. And, at 21, I could finally legally buy alcohol.
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I've been 21 for a month now, and I haven't had a drop to drink. It's
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kind of strange to look back on activities you used to participate in just
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because they were taboo. When they become perfectly normal, there's not that
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desire which stems from "breaking the system's rules." I enjoy getting
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plastered as much as the next guy, and fifteen shots of Jack Daniels is a
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great way to decorate somebody's lawn with at 3:00am in the morning, but now
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part of the mystique is gone.
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Now I'll just have to start drinking to ruin my liver. I'll singlehandedly
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take on the AMA, and we'll see if my liver turns into mush or actually grows
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stronger. It'll be a race between my smoking and my drinking, and who knows,
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if next year's birthday is boring, I might start up intravenous drug use.
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After all, the next big event to occur on my birthday will be in the year
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2000. No, the world isn't ending on that day. My car insurance goes down.
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That, my friends, I am looking forward to.
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Anyway, here's the zine. You might notice the absence of a prominent
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writer. He decided to take a break. Other people wrote stuff. We survived
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without him. We still miss his stuff dearly, though.
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And remember... it's Thanksgiving, so go to your grandparent's house and
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eat them out of house and home. It's what the Pilgrims would have done. And
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if you really wanna play the part of the Pilgrims, bring some
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smallpox-infested blankets. Then you'll really be reliving history. Until
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next issue...
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-----
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[1] Thanks to the local convenience store owner who got busted four times in a
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two year period for selling cigarettes to minors from 1991-1993. Without
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him, hundreds of kids would have had to search harder for smokes.
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[2] Once we were gonna start up a business reselling porno tapes to kids at
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the high school. The plan fell through when we realized that a) the "get
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250 video tapes for fifty bucks" was probably a scam, and b) we figured it
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would be cheaper to sell erotica texts culled off the internet. We never
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did that either and now, in the latter years of college, are
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semi-respectable folks.
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--SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB--
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STAFF LiSTiNG
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EDiTOR
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Kilgore Trout
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CONTRiBUTORS
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Belgrave
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Clockwork
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Crux Ansata
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Noni Moon
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StormChaser
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--SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB--
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[=- ARTiCLES -=]
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--SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB--
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MiND PROBE #7: Dark Crystal Sphere Floating Between Two Universes,
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Liminality, and the Weird Tale
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by Noni Moon
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I met Dark Crystal Sphere Floating Between Two Universes underneath the
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chilly gray November sky outside the University of Texas at Austin's Catholic
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Center as he exited Mass, his black trench coat flapping slightly in the
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breeze on his thin frame, the golden Jerusalem Cross on his Greek fisherman's
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cap glistening slightly, a miniature version of the tarnished one hanging from
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the leather cord around his neck. He led me across the street and through the
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wet grass on the University's South Lawn, past cold monuments to the heroes of
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the United States, the Confederacy, and the University, past the Tower and the
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West Mall to the Texas Union. We entered the third level door and entered the
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art gallery immediately to the left, passing quickly into a small, handsome
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room with a faux fireplace, and seated ourselves in opposing settles separated
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by a table.
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DCS: If you look this way you can avoid looking at all the tacky pictures. I
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just like this room for the settles and the fireplace.
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NM: It's not really a fireplace.
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DCS: Shut up! They don't know that. You're always like trying to destroy
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everything good in my life.
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NM: Oh yeah, sorry. Well, I guess we'll just start with the most obvious
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question . . .
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DCS: What is the largest lake in South America? Lake Titicaca.
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NM: Actually, I meant what's the story behind your name.
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DCS: Well, what is in a name?
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NM: People aren't going to think you're smart just because you use
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Shakespeare references. Especially since that play's just been made
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into a movie.
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DCS: Oh yeah, sorry about that. But I didn't get it from the movie, I just
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know it. It does look like it'll be a cool film though.
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NM: Yeah, I guess it does look kind of cool. But anyway, back to the
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interview.
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DCS: Uh, could you like repeat the question a few times?
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NM: Your name . . .
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DCS: Oh yeah. First of all, to quote Beavis, "Size is everything." Most of
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my name's cribbed from the old Gent from Providence, Howard Phillips
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Lovecraft, and his Circle. In their letters they often used pseudonyms,
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not unlike modern BBSers if they had to rely on snail mail, and I read
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in an old introduction by Margaret Ronan that one of these handles was
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Black Cylinder Floating between Two Universes. I don't know who used
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it, and as Ms. Ronan used some unreliable (though commonly used)
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sources, her introduction isn't necessarily the best, but both the
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introduction and the name really caught on to me, and, when it came to
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rebaptize myself, I used it, merely adding a few touches of my own.
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First, I inserted the term 'Crystal' because, as I read in an old
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geology book, the crystal is the most perfect arrangement of atoms in a
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mineral. I don't really see myself as perfect in any way, but it is
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what I strive to achieve. I changed 'Cylinder' to 'Sphere' for the same
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reason -- it implies flawlessness. I replaced the 'Black' with 'Dark'
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to keep the sense of mystique and inscrutability, while romanticizing it
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more, and making it less definite and concrete. I kept the rest because
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it means, to me, the very dissociation that we all live in, literally
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floating between the Two Universes of 'reality' and something more
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sublime. This is what I believe weird authors must try to achieve in
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their writing.
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NM: You mean escapism?
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DCS: Not vulgar escapism -- not merely fleeing into some distortion of every-
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day emotions, like Star Trek and the like, going into a world of happy
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little emotions different enough from everyday life to make it a little
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exotic but similar enough to keep from getting uncomfortable or scary.
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Basically what I mean is that what I try to achieve is liminality, the
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separation from this world, which we all experience at one time or
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another -- a kind of religious experience, as HPL refers to it. It is
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this liminality which weird authors try to take and channel their
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readers into. The weird tale opens a door through which we pass and
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just as with any door, be it magic, religion, or anything else, we must
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accept all of it, the good and the evil, giving rise to the twins weird
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fantasy and weird horror. This is achieved through manipulation the
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atmosphere of the tale. I believe that it was HPL who, in Supernatural
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Horror in Literature -- the definitive work on the subject -- said that
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the weird tale must focus on atmosphere just as the mystery must focus
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on plot. Ansat and I have discussed how this is similar to the
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Decadent's focus on the individual personality and psychology of
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degeneration and insanity, always with the focus on religion and some
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intangible ideal which pervades the entire fiber of the person. It is
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the similarity of the weird and the Decadent which has caused such a
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crossover, and why people who are attracted to one often dip into the
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other. Obvious examples include the Welsh author and Golden Dawn member
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Arthur Machen (whom Lovecraft acknowledged as one of the greatest author
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of his time), author of "The Great God Pan" and "The Hill of Dreams,"
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who wrote both kinds of tale and tales which were of both kinds, the
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American Robert W. Chambers, best known for "The King in Yellow," a
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collection of weird and Decadent tales, even using the color of
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Decadence, and Edgar Allan Poe, Grandfather of both lines -- Decadence
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through Charles Baudelaire and weird fiction through Howard Phillips
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Lovecraft.
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NM: You've already mentioned a lot of authors, and especially H. P.
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Lovecraft. They've obviously had a great effect on you.
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DCS: Yes, they have, particularly Lovecraft. I have to credit Ansat with
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introducing me to him. I learned from him and from authors like Machen,
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Algernon Blackwood, Lord Dunsany and, much more recently, T. E. D. Klein
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the value of atmosphere in horror and fantasy. Some people have seen my
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stories as merely Lovecraft pastiches, and I have sometimes drawn a
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little too much on him I think, but my stories differ markedly from his.
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He would never have written the stories I write. The Decadents and
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other weird authors, particularly those in the Lovecraft Circle, have
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also affected me in various ways, as has my own studies in religion,
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folklore and the occult. Most recently my studying early American
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supernatural fiction, and my reading of Robert E. Howard, have shown me
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the value of basing stories regionally, and using my stories to shroud
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the area around me in more mystery. For example, Charles Brockden
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Brown, while not the best author in the world, based his Gothic stories
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in America, believing that Americans should not be tied to Europe for
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their writing. At that time, just about all the books read in America
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were written in Europe and took place there. Robert E. Howard's
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"Pigeons From Hell" has shown me just how Texas can be made into a
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mystical land itself. I have tried this with my story "That Which Lies
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Beyond," and hope to do so more in future stories.
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NM: Well, they have all influenced your style, now where specifically have
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your plots come from?
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DCS: Really anything can trigger the muse, as I'm sure you and other authors
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know. Sometimes things in my life start me to thinking, sometimes
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things I read. Often times it's dreams. "On the Shores of Tir na nOg"
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was based on mixing Celtic myth with Hemingway's "The Old Man and the
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Sea." "The Grave-Side Pool" was spawned after a walk through the
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cemetery, when I lay awake in bed thinking of dead shades aching to be
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heard, reaching up and grabbing at my pant-cuffs. "That Which Lies
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Beyond" is based almost entirely on dream. One night, having learned
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about a hill (Old Baldy, if anyone's interested) near Wimberly where
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rumor has it Satanists used to congregate, combined with my impressions
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of the Texas Hill Country, honeycombed as it is with limestone caves,
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and having read HPL's "The Case of Charles Dexter Ward," I dreamt that I
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was living in a house on a hill, surrounded by nothing but juniper trees
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and other hills, and I discovered that living in tunnels under the house
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were some sort of cultists lived who did not appreciate my living there
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and wished to do me in. I filled the valley near the hill by combining
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this dream with a dream I had earlier of a typical German immigrant
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town, like Fredericksburg. (Large numbers of Germans settled here in
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the early last century, especially those fleeing political and religious
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oppression.) Not much happened plot-wise that I borrowed, but that's
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where I got the atmosphere of the town -- and the title of the story.
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While I was there I was wandering through an cottage inn and hanging on
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one of the walls was a man wandering into a clearing in a forest, where
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he found a giant holding a club. Below the picture was embroidered
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"Remember That Which Lies Beyond." I extended this quote and attributed
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it to a book I saw in another dream. In this dream I was in a rare
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bookstore or antique store. Walking up to a group of shelves full of
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books, I looked up and was overcome with panic when I saw sitting there
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a black volume with either silver- or gold-gilt letters reading Book of
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Leviathan on the spine. Then I woke up. Other stories I have planned
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but may or may not write are another based on a dream I had and one
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based on my reading about the Yanomamo, a tribe in Venezuela and
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adjacent Brazil.
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NM: You also wrote a story called "Haftling 141732," co-authored with
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Captain Moonlight. What's the story there? Are you political?
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DCS: Well, that particular story sprung from our mutual love for history.
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Moonlight and I have been friends for some time (though I still haven't
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told him where the SoB complex is, the schmuck), and one day we just got
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to talking about the Holocaust -- I don't remember how -- and we wound
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up writing the story. We both contributed about equally to the story,
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each in our own way. He even found out the actual beginning three
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digits for prisoners from the area the main character was from. We both
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put a lot of research into that. But no, while I'm concerned with
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humanity and the human condition, I wouldn't exactly call myself
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political. As Huysmans said, any discussion not dealing with religion
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or art is base and vain.
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NM: You keep making references to religion. How do you think that plays
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into your stories, and the "weird tale," as you put it, in general?
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DCS: Well first of all, the weird tale is hardly my innovation, as you seem
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to be implying. The heyday of the weird tale was about 1850-1950, years
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before I was born. I'm merely a practitioner, and only an experimenting
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one at that. The weird tale has its origins, I believe, in the name of
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its pioneering periodical by that name. S. T. Joshi has written a book
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published in 1990 through the University of Texas Press called The Weird
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Tale which I heartily recommend -- he's pretty much the authority on the
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subject, even editing the Arkham House editions of Lovecraft after
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Derleth's death. My stuff is hardly professional -- indeed, "That Which
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Lies Beyond" has been rejected by Weird Tales' heir, Worlds of Fantasy
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and Horror, and will probably soon be rejected by Cemetery Dance. But
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anyway, on to religion. Well, Lovecraft himself was an atheist and he
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said that he thought being religious would hurt a story's weird effect,
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bringing it down to the mundane. However, he probably did not realize
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that Lord Dunsany, Arthur Machen and Algernon Blackwood, three of his
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major influences, as well as people like William Butler Yeats and Bram
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Stoker whom he also liked, were all members of the magical society the
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Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn -- hardly atheists. The examples he
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cited, Dion Fortune sticks out, may have indeed affected the story, but
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that is more because of the kind of magic they were involved with that
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rendered the magic mundane. The Golden Dawn was a ritual magic group, a
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kind of magic which focused on the removal from the mundane, and in this
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sense it helped rather than hurt their writing. Likewise, as a
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Catholic, the whole point of the Mass is to raise the participants to a
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higher consciousness. Especially powerful, I found, was All Saint's Day
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Mass, at which the Litany of Saints was sung. Personally I have never
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written a story which I did not believe could happen. And Lovecraft
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himself has likened the effect of the weird tale with a religious
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experience. HPL certainly didn't believe in God or in an order to the
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universe, but he certainly had a sense of the sublime bordering on
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religion.
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NM: Well, what about "Tir na nOg" and "That Which Lies Beyond?" Aren't they
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both rather anti-Catholic.
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DCS: Well, I did write "Upon the Shores of Tir na nOg" during a brief period
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of Wiccanism. But I'm feeling much better now. I have a lot of respect
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for Wiccans like the late Scott Cunningham, but most Wiccans, Cunningham
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included, render their beliefs mundane. My sympathies for the Wiccans
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originally arose out of my respect for ancient Celtic religion, and I
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broke with the Wiccans because of my respect for ancient Celtic
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religion. The Wiccans aren't too intent on truly reviving Celtic
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religion except in a watered down form, mongrelized with other beliefs,
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Pagan and otherwise. I still love the old Celtic religion, but it is a
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thing of the past -- too much has been lost. And Catholicism has
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superseded it, bringing in the Savior by blood sacrifice. The story
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could, however, be easily changed into a more Catholic story (by drawing
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upon the tradition of St. Brendan), or at least one which does not seem
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anti-Catholic. And in any case, I more satirized the ignorance of the
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townspeople rather than their religion. As for "That Which Lies
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Beyond," I hardly see it as anti-Catholic. The protagonist lost faith,
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the faith did not abandon the protagonist. It merely showed how weak
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people often are, and how things often work against even religious
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people. It's like Job's questioning. St. Anthony of the Desert lived
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and died tormented by demons' physical assaults. We shouldn't expect
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God to help us all the time, though He often does play a hand in things.
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Read William Peter Blatty's The Exorcist, an excellent book. Or for
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that matter read Thomas B. Allen's Possessed, which was just published
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recently, which discusses the case that inspired The Exorcist. It's
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written by an agnostic of Catholic upbringing with an impeccable
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reputation, a former editor for National Geographic Books and author of
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a biography of Rickover, as well as of War Games: The Secret World of
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the Creators, Players, and Policy Makers Rehearsing World War III Today.
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He even admits in his book when testimonies are shaky, such as the
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claims that the victim knew Aramaic, and other instances. All in all I
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don't think anyone will find any fault with this book, and it gives an
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excellent account of an actual exorcism.
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NM: Well, I'm glad to see it has the Dark Crystal Sphere Seal of Approval.
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DCS: Five stars.
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NM: Well, I guess that's about it. Any closing remarks?
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DCS: Remember that which lies beyond. The universe is a much wider place
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than we think, and strange things roam. It is only Man's ignorance
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which gives him the smugness to assume that he has conquered all. And,
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never compromise your beliefs.
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--SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB--
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Hey, you dumb chick, I just asked a simple question!"
|
|
--a young man's response to Noni Moon's response
|
|
of "Dye" to his question, "How do you get
|
|
your hair so blue?" Confusing, ain't it?
|
|
|
|
|
|
--SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB--
|
|
|
|
AN ELECTiON 1996 RETROSPECTiVE,
|
|
or,
|
|
WHY THE ANARCHiST VOTED THEOCRATiC
|
|
by Crux Ansata
|
|
|
|
The 1996 election is now over, all the packages have been unwrapped, and
|
|
now we are in the process of figuring out where we are going to put and what
|
|
we are going to do with all the things other people gave us that we never
|
|
really wanted. I voted. I know all the Anarchist arguments against voting --
|
|
I will deal with some of them in this article -- but I also know the arguments
|
|
to vote, and they seemed to me more compelling. When I entered the voting
|
|
booth, I was prepared to vote for one candidate and against six. To my
|
|
embarrassment, there was another valid write-in candidate I had never heard
|
|
of. This person will not be addressed in this article. Mea maxima culpa. (If
|
|
anyone out there in SoB land knows anything about this mysterious eighth
|
|
candidate, please write a letter to the editor, or even an article. The same
|
|
goes if you want to dispute me on a point. I'll be happy to set you
|
|
straight.)
|
|
|
|
This won't affect anyone's vote this election, and this was pretty much
|
|
intentional. Draw from this whatever grand overreaching lessons you like, but
|
|
don't expect me to be leading you by the hand. I have enough issues of my own
|
|
to work out.
|
|
|
|
In any case, the reasons not to vote. They are legion, but can be pretty
|
|
much summed up in a few. "You won't change anything." "Any vote for any
|
|
candidate is still a vote for government." "Worse is better."
|
|
|
|
That first one is pathetically apathetic. I find it pushed more by the
|
|
so-called "Liberals" and "Leftists", i.e. the big government morons who buy
|
|
the fashionable rebel line. It is cool not to care. I don't buy the fashion.
|
|
On the surface, this might be true. There was one candidate with a chance --
|
|
the media decided who was going to win, and the people pulled their instructed
|
|
lever. In the bigger perspective, though, this is absolutely untrue. Here in
|
|
the United States, we have a pathetically low voter turn out rate. In the
|
|
USSR, they had a near universal voting rate, and they only had one choice!
|
|
Here in the U.S., though, it is fashionable not to care, and the government
|
|
likes it that way. Sheep for the slaughter.
|
|
|
|
On the contrary, if you can convince one person to get up off his ass and
|
|
vote, you are going to change something. You will make someone do something.
|
|
Even an uninformed vote is better than no vote at all, because in this country
|
|
the true revolutionaries are not trying to get their people in, we are just
|
|
trying to wake up the masses. It's the voting booth or the Oklahoma City
|
|
bombing, boys and girls. How would you like me to open your eyes?
|
|
|
|
At this point in the development of America, voting may not change the
|
|
government. (It will in the long term, but it is hard to see in the short.)
|
|
It will, though, change the person. It is no substitute for a sustained
|
|
program of information and education, but it is a start. Even a single spark
|
|
can start a forest fire.
|
|
|
|
Argument two -- "Any vote is a vote for government", in the abstract, is
|
|
absolutely true. All else being equal, the reformism of thinking you can
|
|
abolish the government in the voting booth is naive, at best. We do not live
|
|
in the best of all possible worlds, though. In some nations, boycotting an
|
|
election can have an effect. In the United States, though, this will just let
|
|
the few who go to the ballot boxes have the control of the guns. "All that is
|
|
necessary for evil to triumph," as Burke said, "is for good men to do
|
|
nothing." At this stage in America, getting people to vote and voting
|
|
yourself cannot replace focused action, but it must augment it. We have not
|
|
evolved past the ballot box yet.
|
|
|
|
Finally, "worse is better." Trotsky's eternal maxim. Often, I believe
|
|
this. Hopefully, judging by Clinton's vote total, a lot of people believe
|
|
this. (The more likely option is there is just a massive moron voting bloc,
|
|
but let us be optimists.) Things will get worse, and reformism will not
|
|
purify our nation. Under the law, there is no redemption without the shedding
|
|
of blood. It is not yet time, though. If you believe this, vote for the
|
|
worst candidate. It is hardly an argument for boycotting the elections.
|
|
|
|
In this nation, we have the chance to vote. This is a practical thing,
|
|
in that we can actually change an election on some levels, and at least
|
|
participate in larger ones. More importantly, this is a symbolic thing. Your
|
|
vote is your voice, and even if you are not heard, the simple fact of speaking
|
|
makes you one step closer to a true revolutionary.
|
|
|
|
And the best thing about being an Anarchist is that when you vote, you
|
|
can vote entirely for the person you think is right, and when he loses you
|
|
won't be discouraged. It's what you expected, anyway.
|
|
|
|
So I voted. I took a two hour bus trip round trip, plus waiting, to get
|
|
from my University campus to my voting place and back. I missed Linguistics,
|
|
but I voted. As I said, I was prepared to vote for one candidate and against
|
|
six. (I will only be speaking about the presidential campaign. I doubt State
|
|
of unBeing's international audience cares too much about my local government's
|
|
ballot tax initiatives.)
|
|
|
|
I am an anarchist. This is a conscious use of the "is" verb, and I
|
|
consciously act in accordance with my chosen title. I'm not a big fan of
|
|
government, I actively dislike big government, and world government makes my
|
|
head spin around and pea soup fly out my nose. Needless to say, it is a
|
|
voting issue. It is not my only voting issue, and I did read a number of
|
|
statements from a number of candidates before making my decision. My main
|
|
voting issue was, though, how big do they want to make my government, and that
|
|
is the main issue I will be discussing.
|
|
|
|
The three institutional parties -- Republican, Democrat, and "Reform" --
|
|
are all pretty moderate. The Democrats want big government fast, the
|
|
Republicans was big government slow, and the Reformists want big government
|
|
after lots of studies that will tell Perot how to maximize his profits. No
|
|
surprise there. Dole may mean well, and Clinton may be (please note the "may
|
|
be") just a coke-sniffing puppet, and at least Perot is a nut, but none of
|
|
these are very compelling reasons to give them my vote.
|
|
|
|
This leaves the four "third parties" -- Green, U.S. Taxpayers,
|
|
Libertarian, and Natural Law. (And that eighth candidate.) These were not so
|
|
hard, either, but at least they are obscure.
|
|
|
|
Here in Texas, Ralph Nader and the Green Party were a valid write in
|
|
vote, but did not appear on the ballot. Now, I think Nader probably means
|
|
well, and it is a lot safer to drive now. He is also not really a threat,
|
|
since he didn't have a chance. Unfortunately, he has made his career out of
|
|
making the government bigger and more pervasive, and now he is running with a
|
|
party that is international. Not organized, but they do exist
|
|
internationally. Apparently, this puts him in the "big but well meaning
|
|
government" category. Not my vote.
|
|
|
|
The Natural Law party makes my skin crawl. I have read some of their
|
|
stuff, and I have seen Hagelin speak. He has quite a few things going against
|
|
him. First, he is a scientist. Scientists have no place in government.
|
|
Remember Marxism? Remember how proud they were of their technocracy? See,
|
|
scientists do what works. Government -- politics in general -- has no place
|
|
doing what works. Politics is for those who will do what is right, and make
|
|
it work. Political heroes are not people who can fill in the blank, no matter
|
|
how neatly they can do it. Political heroes are those who fight and die
|
|
against overwhelming odds. Leaders, not bureaucrats and technocrats, belong
|
|
in government. To see what scientists would do, making things work, read
|
|
Brave New World or Anthem.
|
|
|
|
Second thing going against them is that the Natural Law party is a one
|
|
world party. They like to downplay this -- almost as much as they like to
|
|
downplay the Transcendental Meditation link -- but it is there. The Natural
|
|
Law party in this nation is working alongside and for the same goals as the
|
|
Natural Law parties in Europe and Canada, and probably elsewhere. I'm not
|
|
real big on one worldism, however efficient it may be. I'm afraid that
|
|
however amusing it may be to think of Haglein meditating and bouncing around
|
|
on his rear end on an air mattress, they will not be getting my votes anytime
|
|
soon.
|
|
|
|
This leaves two parties. I did my time as a Libertarian years ago. They
|
|
have a lot of good ideas: minimal government, no income tax, etc. Their good
|
|
ideas are shared by the USTP. The Libertarians, though, are
|
|
anarcho-capitalists. If the Reform party is pretty much made up of
|
|
Republicans without the balls to make a real change, the Libertarians are
|
|
pretty much Republicans without the backbone and the heart to support anything
|
|
that won't make them money. They go too far. If you have a statist society,
|
|
you will inevitably have an infantile population. Permissiveness is only good
|
|
in the revolution or after it. While the state exists, it is more damaging
|
|
than liberating to take the Libertarian line. (Also, their position on the
|
|
NWO was never made clear to me.)
|
|
|
|
On the other hand, there is the U.S. Taxpayers Party. They support a
|
|
real reduction in the government, including an immediate repeal of the income
|
|
tax and the eventual reform of our economic system. Their position on one
|
|
worldism is clear and unequivocal: No NAFTA, no GATT, no WTO, no UN, no
|
|
nothing. For Clinton, the era of big government is over not because
|
|
government is getting local, but because it is going global. The USTP
|
|
supports cutting away the government on all levels, and allowing the locality
|
|
to do what they feel necessary. The USTP supports Michael New, the man who
|
|
was kicked out of the Army for his refusal to wear a UN uniform of
|
|
questionable legality. (Indeed, both New and his father are active in the
|
|
USTP, and New seconded Phillips' nomination.) Aside from Howard Phillips of
|
|
the USTP, the only other presidential contender to support New was Buchanan.
|
|
The USTP is the only party with a real plan for reducing the government.
|
|
|
|
And how do they achieve this? They are a Constitutionalist party. Now I
|
|
have never been a big fan of the Constitution, seeing it as essentially a
|
|
reformist stagger backwards after the Declaration of Independence, but the
|
|
USTP use it in the way it can best be used: as an absolute limit to
|
|
government power. (And any U.S. citizen above the age of twelve -- especially
|
|
a voter -- unfamiliar with the Constitution should probably be horsewhipped.)
|
|
The USTP reading of the document is staggering, as a careful balancing of
|
|
powers accompanied by a constant reference to the Bill of Rights, and
|
|
especially amendments one, two, four, and ten. No government is better than
|
|
government, but if you must have a government, one that is strictly controlled
|
|
and with a jealous balance of powers is clearly better than the system we have
|
|
degenerated into now.
|
|
|
|
(Of course, I do not agree with them on every point. The only point with
|
|
might make a difference, though, is capital punishment. If there were a party
|
|
identical to them that opposed capital punishment, I would vote against the
|
|
USTP, but to the best of my knowledge the only party opposing capital
|
|
punishment in the U.S. is the Libertarian party. And "theocratic" in the
|
|
title, by the way, is a crack about how they are viewed by other people; the
|
|
USTP is not theocratic by any rational use of the term.)
|
|
|
|
All things considered, this was a pretty easy election. Five of the
|
|
seven candidates I knew anything about were one worldist or proto-one
|
|
worldist, and several aren't too hot on national government, either. The
|
|
Libertarians, God bless them, simply have to develop a backbone, or at least
|
|
see the government as something more than an instrument for regulating
|
|
business, before they can really be a pleasant thought on the national field.
|
|
The USTP, on the other hand, supported me on just about every plank I
|
|
considered worth going to the polls over: Michael New and the U.S. uniform;
|
|
NAFTA; GATT; the Mexican Hayride; income tax; the UN; and so on.
|
|
|
|
Of course they lost. They were right.
|
|
|
|
--SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB--
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Let the products sell themselves
|
|
Fuck advertising and commercial psychology
|
|
Psychological methods to sell should be destroyed because of their
|
|
own blind involvement in their own conditioned closed minds"
|
|
-- Minutemen, "Shit From an Old Notebook"
|
|
|
|
|
|
--SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB--
|
|
|
|
SOCiAL FABRiCATiON
|
|
by Belgrave
|
|
|
|
Where is the justice in a world where a few people on the top rung of the
|
|
social ladder benefit from the tireless work of their minions? The only
|
|
justice in a system such as this is a justice created by those who benefit
|
|
from it. However much we would like to think this is not the way of things
|
|
today, it is a grim reality. Society is being constructed to benefit the top
|
|
chickens in the pecking order.
|
|
|
|
This article may already be considered by some as being of the conspiracy
|
|
theory ilk, about to force the reader to believe that there is a conspiratorial
|
|
group of highly powered people, who sit in a smoky room playing god with
|
|
humanity. This may or may not be the case -- for all we know, The
|
|
Bilderbergers may just be a group of ultra-rich people who meet annually to
|
|
trade recipes and talk about what they did on their vacations. It is not our
|
|
point here to make assertions on whether an organised controlling body does or
|
|
does not exist. We could all theorise as much as we like about the
|
|
circumstantial evidence to support the existence of a group such as described
|
|
above; however, without any concrete evidence, all that exists are only
|
|
theories.
|
|
|
|
The classical picture of this 'theorised' controlling body, as we see it
|
|
portrayed by such televisions programs as the modern day "Twilight Zone" and
|
|
"The X-Files" is very, very romanticised indeed. A group of men (of course
|
|
men), old, evil looking men, sitting in the smoky room described earlier,
|
|
playing a real life game of chess. If they did exist, though, I doubt this
|
|
would be the case. These people, who would not necessarily have to be men,
|
|
would never have to physically meet to do business. They would not even have
|
|
to know what each other looks like. The world is getting very impersonal
|
|
thanks to technological advances.
|
|
|
|
The conspiracy theories aside, society IS being constructed as an upwards
|
|
funnel, designed to push and concentrate power and wealth towards the top,
|
|
with or without the help of an overseeing body. Whether it is intentional or
|
|
not, the fabrication of society for the malicious purposes of the top few is
|
|
advancing with a gathering speed.
|
|
|
|
The ways that this is being achieved are cloaked in the ignorant
|
|
television society of today, which itself is part of the basis for the
|
|
funneling of power. The apathy and ignorance of our society is the 'spoonful
|
|
of sugar' that makes the flagrant infringements on our privacy and basic human
|
|
rights that little bit easier to swallow. Add to this morals and beliefs
|
|
which have been handed to us on a phosphorus coated glass platter, and we
|
|
have the basis for a society which is willing to believe anything they are
|
|
told, a society which can see no further into the future than what form it's
|
|
next 'distraction from thought' will take and a society which refuses to take
|
|
into account the ramifications of the tools of convenience which it is handed.
|
|
|
|
|
|
1. JACOB'S LADDER OF CONSENT
|
|
|
|
In June of 1985, the Australian minister for health unveiled plans for a
|
|
National Identity card called 'The Australia Card' at the National Taxation
|
|
Summit. This card would be a compulsory form of identification for all
|
|
Australian citizens and showed the Australian public who could see past the
|
|
plethora of excuses on why we needed it, that the government was willing to
|
|
step toward the cliched 'Orwellian' society.
|
|
|
|
One year after its initial presentation, the proposal was taken up by the
|
|
government and pushed for all it was worth. Needless to say, we never got our
|
|
euphemistically named 'Australia Card.' The scheme never eventuated because of
|
|
complete disapproval from public and other sectors.[1]
|
|
|
|
A lesson had been learned by the government of Australia, which may or may
|
|
not have been known before. It was going to be impossible for them to
|
|
instigate something as controversial as a national identity card in one big
|
|
hit. They would have to do it slowly, step by step. It is not being
|
|
insinuated that after the initial idea was quashed, the government
|
|
vindictively went in search of a smoky room and put on angry old man masks
|
|
and started plotting how to insert microchips into the left shoulder blade of
|
|
every Australian citizen. It does however make sense in their minds to
|
|
categorise the populace, to give us all numerical values so they can control
|
|
us just that little bit better, and to add stability to their power.
|
|
|
|
Using the powers of hindsight, 10 years later, we in Australia have a lot
|
|
of loose ends being created which can and probably will be easily tied
|
|
together into a national identity card. We have a tax file number, which
|
|
initially was to be only used for taxation purposes only, but is now being
|
|
used for a lot more than that. Many 'loyalty card' schemes, bank cards, ATM
|
|
cards, fuel cards, drivers licenses, health care cards, medicare cards, video
|
|
store membership cards, the list goes on indefinitely. Add to this the recent
|
|
trial of 'Smart Money Cards' on the Gold Coast in south east Queensland. All
|
|
of these things pointing directly towards the introduction a national identity
|
|
card, which would tie them all together in the name of convenience.
|
|
|
|
By inserting these things step by step, the Australian government will
|
|
achieve what it set out to do 10 years ago, minus the public uproar. This is
|
|
a basic example of the 'Jacob's Ladder of Consent,' which has been adopted and
|
|
in use for some time by many governments and institutions around the world.
|
|
It has been, up until now, a mostly unspoken of and fool proof system to bring
|
|
into being forms of population control and manipulation.
|
|
|
|
The mechanics behind it are simple, yet insidious and far reaching. The
|
|
V-Chip, which has done it's 5 minute tour of duty in the media circus, is a
|
|
step in the 'Governmental/Corporate Censorship' ladder and is also a very
|
|
prominent example of what is being discussed. It isn't what the V-Chip does
|
|
that is the main concern; it is what it opens the door to. However, nothing
|
|
is said about the permutations, only the necessity. Another parallel rung on
|
|
the same ladder is the attempts to censor the internet. I am sure we have all
|
|
heard the pathetic excuses being uttered by governmental bodies and
|
|
corporations alike as to why the internet needs to be censored, how it is
|
|
corrupting the minds of 'our children,' how it is a boiling pot for 'terrorist
|
|
activity,' how it is anything to get public approval of censoring it. A title
|
|
of a recent newspaper article shows this perfectly, "Cyber Attack a Real
|
|
Threat"[2]. Very emotive, very to the point, not altogether untrue, but so far
|
|
out of proportion that it doesn't really mean much at all.
|
|
|
|
If these steps mentioned above are obtained, that is the V-chip and
|
|
censoring of the internet, they WILL lead to others, slowly winding the
|
|
population down the proverbial garden path which leads to complete censorship,
|
|
with the population not being able to see where it is going until it gets
|
|
there.
|
|
|
|
Censorship is only one of the many forms of control which are being
|
|
engineered and slowly instigated into society using the Jacob's Ladder of
|
|
Consent. We have the necessity for a form of identification which can't be
|
|
forged being impressed upon us, the slow construction of a 'One World
|
|
Government' (or hasn't it been renamed a 'Global Neighborhood?), an ever
|
|
growing need for 'Electronic Cash' and so on and so on. Each plan being so
|
|
monolithic and jarring on the comfortable normality of today that they
|
|
couldn't be put into place straight away, but each is being broken down into
|
|
steps and steadily worked towards.
|
|
|
|
Each of these steps which have been referred to takes a different form.
|
|
Each being displayed from a different angle. The attainment of each step is
|
|
an easy task. Television, radio and written medias are the mediums for
|
|
approval, and the ways that these steps are achieved are simple, covert and
|
|
work with sickening ease. By sitting back and watching society pass by, it is
|
|
easy to systemise a few of the ways we are twisted into swallowing each step
|
|
entirely and then forced to believe it is for our own good.
|
|
|
|
By using the social necessity to not stick out from the crowd, to be
|
|
part of the flock, people are forced into accepting new steps by being told
|
|
that "everyone else is doing it." Larry Abrams explained this technique for
|
|
gaining public approval in his book _The Greening by saying:
|
|
|
|
"The 'creation of the appearance of popular support' is at the
|
|
center of all contemporary political activity. This technique is so
|
|
all-pervasive as to lead even the most rational among us to conclude
|
|
even in the face of the most outlandish proposals, 'I must be the only
|
|
one who feels this way.' Our opposition to some preposterous scheme
|
|
seems to be unique, with the result that we shrug our shoulders and
|
|
accept what we are told is 'the wisdom of the majority' or the
|
|
all-conclusive, argument-ending 'world opinion.'"[3]
|
|
|
|
This is a tool of coercion, people may oppose what is being proposed, but
|
|
they accept it none the less.
|
|
|
|
Using desensitisation to gain approval, there seems to be more and more
|
|
one-off American shows appearing on our television screens sporting vast
|
|
technologies which are coincidentally only extensions of the technology we
|
|
have today. It isn't only the TV, though -- we also have movies and the like
|
|
coming out which have basically the same content. A good way to try and quell
|
|
public disapproval on a topic is to start the dampening process before the
|
|
topic is instigated. By familiarising the populace to another step, when it
|
|
is proposed the public are already happy to agree with it. They have been
|
|
desensitised to its existence, and more readily accept it.
|
|
|
|
New technologies which infringe our rights are not the only area where
|
|
desensitisation is used. An abstract form of desensitisation is used to
|
|
insert morals or beliefs into areas of the population which will aid those on
|
|
the upper crest of society to get fatter.
|
|
|
|
Constantly we see the media taking their own perspectives, or the
|
|
perspectives they have been coddled into taking, on the subjects they are
|
|
reporting upon. This relates back to the population who are exposed
|
|
repetitively to these points of view, by these sections of the population
|
|
adopting these points of view and/or swallowing whole what they have been
|
|
told, and taking it as gospel.
|
|
|
|
We can see this happening in America. A while back we had the evils of
|
|
the cults being thrust upon us; now, we have the militias and the ever present
|
|
'terrorist' threat. What is a better way of having a scape-goat, than
|
|
creating one yourself? The American populace has been lambasted into
|
|
believing that whenever the media says that someone is to blame, they are.
|
|
Constantly we have militia groups taking the blame for bombings and the like,
|
|
when there is contrary evidence to support that something or someone else was
|
|
to blame. The media only covers the surface of the stories, saying that some
|
|
minority group was to blame, then they say nothing else. The people take this
|
|
as the truth, because they have been manufactured to think this way. These
|
|
groups are sentenced by the media. Guilty until proven innocent, and the
|
|
proof is never provided.
|
|
|
|
The government, through their media, have created infallible patsies,
|
|
just perfect to blame for events which may get messy, or which they do not
|
|
want to be held accountable for. This is just an example of the differing
|
|
forms and tangents of desensitisation that are used on the population to gain
|
|
consent for various actions and steps that inevitably aid the upper few to
|
|
grasp more control and make rock solid foundations for the continuation of
|
|
this control.
|
|
|
|
In the end, each step must gain public approval, as the public are the
|
|
main body who can oppose and stop these various steps from being introduced.
|
|
The few ways described above are ways that are used to gently push the
|
|
population into agreeing with these steps.
|
|
|
|
However, if a step meets massive public disapproval, which is happening
|
|
less and less, it will resurface again in the future, under a different guise,
|
|
but being exactly the same in essence as the initial proposal. This continues
|
|
to happen until public consent is gained.
|
|
|
|
Another trick which is used to work around public disapproval is to
|
|
sidestep the topic and create something new around it. This is a form of what
|
|
was discussed earlier with regards to the way that opposed steps will
|
|
resurface as many times as it takes for them to be accepted. Take, for
|
|
example, the censorship of the internet debate. A good proportion of the
|
|
general public are still fairly ignorant of what the internet is and what it
|
|
does. The people who would like to see the internet become a mediated,
|
|
censored medium prey on this ignorance. Using headlines like the one mentioned
|
|
earlier, "Cyber Attack A Real Threat"[2], they make the internet-illiterate
|
|
among us think of an army carrying laptops, ready to seize control of their
|
|
country. This headline is ambiguous enough to make images like that spring
|
|
into the minds of the population, generating fear about what could happen if
|
|
the internet isn't censored. They have worked around the initial topic of
|
|
censoring the internet and made the internet into a threat if it isn't
|
|
mediated. They make the public believe that it is a threat to them so that
|
|
they approve of it's censorship, when in reality, the internet is only a real
|
|
threat to those on the top.
|
|
|
|
One other way that public approval is gained is by making the public
|
|
believe that whatever is trying to be introduced will benefit them in some
|
|
way. By inserting a small test area, then proving that it works is the way
|
|
that this is done. A certain recent Olympics was the staging ground for many
|
|
new technologies, ranging from the perfect identification that is retina and
|
|
palm scanning to three dimensional rendered maps of the entire Olympics. The
|
|
only way that the public would see that these new technologies would help them
|
|
is by testing them against a 'real' threat, then making sure the images of the
|
|
event reach the far corners of the globe on the many television networks which
|
|
are covering the Olympics. Conveniently, a 'real' threat did come along in
|
|
the form of a pipe bomb, and just as conveniently, it was initially blamed on
|
|
a terrorist group, while the FBI were centering on a "militia connection". In
|
|
just that one incident, the powers that be had implicated most of the patsies
|
|
they created, the public believed that it would be a militia or a terrorist
|
|
group to blame, and anyone with any foresight would have known the storyline
|
|
to the saga before it unfolded.[4]
|
|
|
|
The response teams were at the site in minutes, some even clearing people
|
|
from the area BEFORE the bomb went off (a faint smell of fish is present).
|
|
More public disapproval is stacked against the beastly fiction-terrorists and
|
|
their friends, the fiction-militias. The technologies are shown to have
|
|
worked "similar" to their intended purpose as the bomb didn't go off in any of
|
|
the major Olympic venues. The people are happy because they have been fed
|
|
some images of others' manufactured suffering and they have been given someone
|
|
to blame for it. The people are ignorant to the way that intrusive
|
|
technologies like retina scanning have been normalised and readied for
|
|
insertion into their society WITHOUT public disapproval. The people have been
|
|
desensitised to the presence of heavily armed and expertly trained troops in
|
|
their everyday lives. And the upper crust are happy, because they like to
|
|
watch something which will benefit them in the future go so well.
|
|
|
|
The Jacob's Ladder of Consent is the way that governments sidestep public
|
|
uproar and disapproval. It has been tested and honed to the point where
|
|
unless we are aware of its workings, it is nearly impossible to find. There
|
|
are many, many other tools of social construction, which are being employed to
|
|
underhandedly turn life into a viable commercial interest. If the Jacob's
|
|
Ladder is the insertion point, then the areas about to be discussed are the
|
|
continuing and ever growing tools of social control. They are a social
|
|
cattle prod if you like.
|
|
|
|
|
|
2. CLASSIFYING THE POPULATION
|
|
|
|
Throughout human history, we as a race have displayed the need to be
|
|
ruled over and classified. Even though dividing the population into classes
|
|
doesn't seem to be the fashionable or intelligent thing to do in today's
|
|
modern life, the traditional classifications still exist as strong as ever,
|
|
and the gaps between the classes are being pried apart into schisms by the
|
|
upper crust. As stated, the terms "lower," "middle" and "upper" classes are
|
|
not used as much as they have been in the past, but the classifications they
|
|
represent are very apparent. The benefits gained by those who are on top are
|
|
many and varied. In their self-induced omnipotence, it makes a lot of sense
|
|
to force society to become a caste system.
|
|
|
|
This caste system seems only to be a modern day assimilation of the
|
|
traditional social class system, with lower Class drones who serve the middle
|
|
and upper class, serving food to them, building their houses, etc... but never
|
|
being able to serve each other, as their monetary supply is mediated so they
|
|
cannot afford to. A middle class of workers, who never see the light of day,
|
|
who live in a plastic world of TV and delusions of grandeur because they have
|
|
someone below them to feel good about. This middle class are the separator.
|
|
They are the filter for the section of the population below them, deciding
|
|
which crumbs fall, and which crumbs don't. The Upper Class who sit
|
|
comfortably above all, living off the servitude of those below them, and then
|
|
the upper echelon of humanity, the minority who control the monetary supply to
|
|
the population of the earth, which in turn gives them complete control. This
|
|
upper echelon also manipulate the upper class into the false belief that they
|
|
alone are the controlling factor.
|
|
|
|
Into this realm of total social classification is where society is
|
|
heading. It is like drawing a line between two points, then extending
|
|
the line to find it's destination. The point which forms the model of today
|
|
is only viewable by its extension into society. We have shops pointedly
|
|
directed at each separate caste which is evolving and ossifying around
|
|
its rung on the social ladder. These stores are just an example of the
|
|
ways that this caste system manifests itself today, and these ways are
|
|
becoming more and more pronounced.
|
|
|
|
These shops are only symptoms of the process of separating the population
|
|
into islands unto themselves. The products they stock and their prices
|
|
attract the patronage from the social castes they target. Shops which attract
|
|
their patronage from the upper caste are of the highly priced, glossy white,
|
|
multilevel inner city kind, while shops that attract people from the middle
|
|
class are your generic brand suburban shopping center type. For those people
|
|
who just can't make the proverbial ends meet, the powers that be so graciously
|
|
provide cheap import "Junk Shops", so that the lower class can get products
|
|
which they just can't afford elsewhere.
|
|
|
|
These shops are not a construct of the men in the smoky room to classify
|
|
the population. It is in fact the other way around. These shops have evolved
|
|
through the necessity of the varying castes and are being used as a tool to
|
|
further exasperate the gaps between them.
|
|
|
|
At this point, society still has the grey areas between each caste.
|
|
Upper-middle class, lower-middle class, etc. For us to fall properly into our
|
|
assigned places, the gaps between must be so vast that no one can be able to
|
|
move from them. If you are born low, you will stay low for the rest of your
|
|
life. Images of a world like Huxley's spring to mind, where humans are
|
|
created by a production line process and are physically altered to suit the
|
|
caste for which they are destined. This is not the case in the world today.
|
|
It is not so much a physical caste system, but more a monetary caste system,
|
|
which is being fabricated so that it will be an impossibility for anyone to
|
|
move much from where they were born into.
|
|
|
|
The grey areas are the parts of the system which are being taken away.
|
|
Today, we still hear stories of people who started with nothing, and clawed
|
|
their way to the top, and we still have those multimillionaires who come
|
|
tumbling down. Slowly, but noticeably, the world is being geared towards
|
|
taking away the possibility for that happening. To get the edge in today's
|
|
world, one must have that gold-plated university degree; if not, we are
|
|
destined for a life of servitude. Those degrees are being pushed further away
|
|
from the lower areas of society by making it more and more costly to go
|
|
through university, making it only those with money who are allowed to have an
|
|
education.
|
|
|
|
Another area where the caste boundaries are being ossified and separated
|
|
is within the health system. Public health systems are being slowly strangled
|
|
and dismantled. The best medical care, which just so happens to be private
|
|
health care, costs far too much for the average person to afford. The lower
|
|
classes are slipping into a production line existence, waiting patiently in
|
|
line for what those above them get instantly because they have the money. If
|
|
the commercialisation of health care continues as it is, we will find
|
|
ourselves with absolutely no provision for a health system which is accessible
|
|
by those who don't have the wealth to pay for private health care.
|
|
|
|
To simplify and draw together the ideas discussed above, the social
|
|
castes are being separated and consolidated by a monetary system which
|
|
is being created to be the greatest benefit to those at the top, then
|
|
benefit in much lesser degrees those who stand below them, with no
|
|
possibility of the schisms between being bridged. With democracy being
|
|
the excuse for the rampant commercialism which was bred from greed.
|
|
|
|
A tangential manifestation of social classification lays in music. By
|
|
classifying music into definite categories, the people who listen to that form
|
|
of music are in turn classified. This isn't as visible in the older portion
|
|
of the population, but the younger population are being tragically typecast by
|
|
the music that they listen to, and by the manufactured cultures which have
|
|
been handed to them along with that music.
|
|
|
|
It isn't that hard to pinpoint the effect this gives. A subculture
|
|
created by categorised music, with commercialism making sure that it is like
|
|
some religion to listen to only one kind of music, and to wear the clothes and
|
|
adopt the attitude which forms part of the music classification package deal.
|
|
Some music subcultures even provide their devotees with a global outlook and a
|
|
life plan. Bring into the equation intra-generation fighting, so to speak,
|
|
brought about by the mindset "The attitude which I have moulded from the music
|
|
category I listen to doesn't like yours."
|
|
|
|
This type of classification broadens and categorises the population on a
|
|
lateral level across generations, pushing individuals within a generation
|
|
further away from each other. Keeping them looking in hatred at each other,
|
|
while being ignorant of what is going on above them.
|
|
|
|
Other factors do come into play when speaking of lateral generation
|
|
classification, religion (which touches on music) and television (which
|
|
touches on religion). Geographical placing of cultures has a fairly major
|
|
effect as well. Populations placed near oceans have whole surfing cultures
|
|
spring up. Many more subcultures exist which further classify the population
|
|
on a lateral level, with very few of these divisions breaching the
|
|
generational boundaries.
|
|
|
|
So what we have is a two-dimensional array effect of social
|
|
classification. Over the whole population, we have caste divisions made by
|
|
superficial monetary wealth. Then laterally, within this definite social
|
|
caste system, we find further classification within generational boundaries.
|
|
These lateral classifications are designed as package deals for the sections
|
|
of the community which fall into them, who only see what is happening within
|
|
their own boundaries, and who are ignorant to the steps being taken towards
|
|
ossifying their caste boundaries.
|
|
|
|
|
|
3. PUSHING THE POWER FURTHER UP THE SCALE
|
|
|
|
The concept of social disapproval being one of the anchors on the
|
|
bandwagon of social control was discussed earlier. Voices only cut so deep,
|
|
and when we are talking about an upper level of controllers, who are on the
|
|
most part deaf to our cries, voices mean very little at all.
|
|
|
|
The whole round-about process of the "Jacob's Ladder Of Consent" could be
|
|
ignored, and the agendas instigated instantly. Think for a minute. If this
|
|
was to happen, and if it was to happen as sudden as this, what images would we
|
|
see being beamed into our lounge rooms from around the world?
|
|
|
|
Riots? Massive public uprisings against the powers-that-be? Possibly
|
|
and probably. The power that the people hold is not in voices alone. The
|
|
voicing of opinions only goes so far, as anything which is opposed in this
|
|
way, will be routed around, re-worked, and re-inserted. Physical opposition
|
|
and the retaining of this power is the transcending part of public
|
|
disapproval.
|
|
|
|
Admittedly though, the power of voicing is vast, but this doesn't come
|
|
from one voice alone. It comes from many voices joined together, again,
|
|
returning to a form of physical opposition. This power, in its many forms, is
|
|
very recognisably a large snag in the fabrication of society.
|
|
|
|
A Jacob's Ladder of Consent has been set up to take away this power, and
|
|
the diffusion of this power upwards can be found in many other Jacob's Ladders
|
|
in the forms of censorship and the like. One permutation of this is the gun
|
|
control debate.
|
|
|
|
Theoretically, let's say that gun control is achieved and owning a gun
|
|
is criminalised. It seems apparent, from the world today, that if this
|
|
theoretical situation was to arise, the police would retain the use and
|
|
ownership of guns, and so would our armies. In this example, where has the
|
|
power been shifted to? It has been taken away from the population and shifted
|
|
upwards in the social hierarchy to the people who are meant to protect us.
|
|
Protect us from what? Ourselves?
|
|
|
|
It is not the intention of this section to incite people to riot or to
|
|
impress a view that guns are good and we all should own them. Its intention
|
|
is to show the power that they represent and to illuminate where that power
|
|
will go if it is taken away. This is not a parallel of the author's opinion on
|
|
the subject, but as stated, it is an attempt to point out the underhanded
|
|
intentions which exist in the gun control debate.
|
|
|
|
The power is only shifted if it still exists. That is, the above example
|
|
is only relevant if firearms are retained by police and armies, which are the
|
|
protectors of governmental control, not the people. If every gun on the face
|
|
of the planet was destroyed, then we wouldn't lose out, as governments would
|
|
lose the same as the people. This, however, is right up there with wishing
|
|
for world peace -- impossible and only achievable if greed ceased to exist.
|
|
|
|
|
|
4. DRUGGING THE POPULATION
|
|
|
|
In the 1960's, a very good example was brought to the surface of how a
|
|
drug can be used to curb the threat posed to governmental power structures by
|
|
a portion of society which shows the highest threat. The drug being referred
|
|
to from the 1960's was LSD. The conspiracy theories aside, if we look at the
|
|
situation from the 1960's and how much of a threat the uprising masses were
|
|
to the government of the USA, we can see that the instigation of LSD into
|
|
society may very well have been what caused the 1960's to deteriorate into the
|
|
drug crazed frenzy that we see it being portrayed as today.
|
|
|
|
|
|
4.1 Alcohol
|
|
|
|
Making the use of drugs desirable is a very useful way to keep the
|
|
population blind. Today, we see the drinking of alcohol taking on a whole new
|
|
meaning as a fashion statement. When we step back and look at the side
|
|
effects of alcohol use, it is possible to see how useful they would be to an
|
|
evolving power structure which has a basic necessity for their minions to be
|
|
kept benign and drugged.
|
|
|
|
In colloquial terms, the main long term effects which come from alcohol
|
|
use are memory loss and the dulling of the cognitive process. These are just
|
|
a few of the bare effects of alcohol relating to the mental shades of its side
|
|
effects, many other physical effects exist. Look at those two effects:
|
|
|
|
a) Alcohol promotes memory loss -- very necessary in the construction of
|
|
the social hierarchy which relies on it's population to be happy and
|
|
complacent. The good old days when things were better don't exist if
|
|
you can't remember those good old days properly.
|
|
|
|
b) Alcohol reduces the cognitive process -- this is the interesting one,
|
|
and the most dangerous. It dulls your mind, makes you lethargic, and
|
|
basically causes a physical apathy and procrastination.
|
|
|
|
Why target alcohol as being an "opiate for the masses?" Look at the way
|
|
today's society has been created. Alcohol is increasingly becoming a fashion
|
|
statement. It is now "cool" to drink designer drinks, and for the rest of the
|
|
community which this doesn't appeal to, a "Joe Six-pack" mentality has been
|
|
created and in place for many, many years now, where it is a way of life to
|
|
drink beer and go out with your mates to the footy. This "Joe Six-pack" area
|
|
of our community is the area in which the best comparison can be made between
|
|
the effects of alcohol and the apathy towards the world around them and their
|
|
unwillingness to speak out against governmental wrong doing. There are other
|
|
factors which do come into play. This area of the community has been bred by
|
|
their parents to live this lifestyle, they have been taught to embrace the
|
|
consumer life for all it is worth, and to only think about family and work, to
|
|
strive for "the great Australian dream", or "the great American dream" or the
|
|
great whatever dream.
|
|
|
|
All this aside, this is the section of the population which harbors the
|
|
most apathy, with alcohol being intrinsic in their lifestyle. The long term
|
|
effects of alcohol described earlier only come about in any measurable form by
|
|
long term alcohol abuse. This long term abuse does not mean hard-line
|
|
alcoholism only. These mental effects are also visible in those people whom
|
|
incorporate alcohol in any amount into their everyday lives. The people who
|
|
come home to the wife and kids and have "a few" beers" or glasses of wine,
|
|
which, to the point of being stereotypical, is inherent in the "Joe Six-Pack"
|
|
caste.
|
|
|
|
|
|
4.2 Religion
|
|
|
|
Although religion isn't holding as much sway in the public eye as it has
|
|
done throughout history (this is in the public eye -- behind the scenes it is
|
|
a completely different story), it still holds enough power to be regarded as a
|
|
drug which is used and abused by those who wish to gain control for their own
|
|
purpose.
|
|
|
|
Drugs themselves are traditionally seen as having physical effects, and
|
|
these are the effects which are capitalised upon, as discussed earlier with
|
|
alcohol. Religion, however, is a form of psychological drug, a form of
|
|
conditioning. It keeps the minds of those who are addicted closed and
|
|
dogmatic. Many religions also need monetary payment for their services,
|
|
because God needs money, as money is holy. It may very well be the upper
|
|
crest of some of these religions who form part of the "ruling elite" who have
|
|
been referred to.
|
|
|
|
The way religious belief is structured would be a very appealing aspect
|
|
to one who would wish to use it as a tool. A group of people who swear
|
|
allegiance to a figure head, then live their lives adhering to a book, or
|
|
group of books, which this figurehead has allegedly passed down to these
|
|
people. Normally, a religion asks its followers to be closeminded to anything
|
|
which falls outside of their belief structure and also provides a system of
|
|
rationalising away anything which falls outside of these beliefs.
|
|
|
|
This is almost a foolproof way of keeping a good percentage of the
|
|
population benign and indifferent. Keep them believing that their mundane
|
|
lives of servitude will some day be changed when their "messiah" comes to save
|
|
them. Everyone needs a dream, however fanciful. This is the crux of this
|
|
section. Any drugs which have been inserted into our society, whether
|
|
intended for a purpose or through social evolution, seem to have the same
|
|
effects. The reason why we have so many varieties is simple. What may appeal
|
|
to one section of the population may not appeal to another, and we can't have
|
|
anyone slipping through the net and actually being aware of that which is
|
|
happening around them, can we?
|
|
|
|
Have a look at the many "distractions from thought" which we have
|
|
evolving around us. Either your traditional forms of drugs, alcohol, opiates,
|
|
pharmaceuticals, mind altering drugs and the like, and also the non-standard
|
|
drugs: TV, religion, computers, movies, sport. This is not to insinuate that
|
|
all of these are bad things and that we should throw off the shackles of
|
|
modern life. It is only to show how certain aspects of this modern life can,
|
|
and probably are, used for the purpose of keeping the human mind occupied on
|
|
tasks which don't involve considering what things may be going on just outside
|
|
of the TV's narrow line of sight. "Idle Time is the devil's plaything," and
|
|
the devil is anything which we are told not to think about.
|
|
|
|
|
|
5. THE FINE ART OF CYNICISM
|
|
|
|
How easy it is to systemise, illuminate and to point out the ways our
|
|
lives are becoming a commercial interest. How hard it is to find answers to
|
|
how to stop this from happening and how often we see people who complain
|
|
about the state of the world, but do nothing to find solutions. The problem
|
|
we are posed with is this: intentionally or unintentionally, our lives, and
|
|
the lives of those around us, are slowly being turned into a money making
|
|
process. Our freedom of choice is being eroded along with our powers to make
|
|
change. These are being replaced with a misconception that they still exist.
|
|
We on the lower rungs of the social hierarchy are having our lives turned into
|
|
inescapable servitude, and we are being enticed to enjoy this new life, with
|
|
the help of "distraction from thought".
|
|
|
|
The hard part is defining how to stop this process. Awareness is one of
|
|
the answers. Being aware of the many ways in which our freedoms are being
|
|
siphoned away, being aware of the consumerism which makes it all seem ok. Not
|
|
bowing down to the new god money, and not allowing ourselves to be swept along
|
|
with the crowd. Education is another answer. Not the conditioning which we
|
|
see being portrayed as education, but the sharing of ideas and ideals. Having
|
|
an open mind and not adhering to "ready to serve" consumer mentalities.
|
|
Listening to all that is around you, absorbing every piece in the puzzle, then
|
|
fitting it all together. Watching all that goes on around you with a cynical
|
|
eye, and being able to tell the many shades of propaganda, greed and social
|
|
fabrication, and the many ways that they manifest themselves.
|
|
|
|
This may not be enough of an answer for some people, but there is no
|
|
simple answer. It IS easy to outline problems, but answers often come much
|
|
harder. In the end, it must be awareness which will prove to be the most
|
|
workable solution. We cannot beat them at their own game, as officially the
|
|
game doesn't exist. If we were to find a way of playing, we would be guilty
|
|
of becoming like them. Awareness is the key. Awareness of the ways in which
|
|
we are being bred for the monetary gain of those above us.
|
|
|
|
Money isn't actually the core of the problem; however, it is the seed
|
|
that the problem grew from. Greed is the core of the problem, and to the
|
|
point of being pessimistic, nothing will ever change until we as a species
|
|
lose the ability to sell out its fellow people for the advancement of a bank
|
|
balance, but we all know the story of the ice cube and its chances in hell.
|
|
|
|
<http://wonderland.apana.org.au/~belgrave/the_expurgated.obey.html>
|
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|
====================================================================
|
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--== COPYRIGHT ==--
|
|
This article has a profit copyright. The author grants permission to
|
|
reproduce in any medium so long as no profit is being made from it's
|
|
reproduction. Please contact the author for permission to reproduce if a
|
|
profit is to be made from this articles reproduction.
|
|
====================================================================
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REFERENCES:
|
|
1. "The Deceptive History Of The Australia Card", Jim Nolan
|
|
2. "Cyber Attack A Real Threat", Westside News, July 10
|
|
3. "The Greening", Larry Abram
|
|
4. "Terrorism Strikes at the Olympics ...", Steve Macko
|
|
EmergencyNet NEWS Service, Saturday, July 27, 1996
|
|
|
|
--SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB--
|
|
|
|
|
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[=- POETASTRiE -=]
|
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|
|
"The poets? They stink. They write badly. They're idiots you see, because
|
|
the strong people don't write poetry.... They become hitmen for the Mafia.
|
|
The good people do the serious jobs."
|
|
--Charles Bukowski
|
|
|
|
|
|
--SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB--
|
|
|
|
THE DRAGON
|
|
by StormChaser
|
|
|
|
The distance is dark and threatening.
|
|
The weatherman is getting worried.
|
|
Move underground, he calls from the living room.
|
|
The worst line of storms he's seen in years.
|
|
He merely echoes the churning sky.
|
|
As I watch from my bay window,
|
|
My heart races with anticipation.
|
|
I am going to meet Mother Nature
|
|
Head on.
|
|
The tea kettle is whistling in the kitchen.
|
|
The piercing sound intensifies a feeling of power and excitement
|
|
building within.
|
|
The door flies open
|
|
Crashes into the wall.
|
|
My entire body jerks toward the sound.
|
|
As the wind envelops me
|
|
It seems to drag me out the door.
|
|
The sky has turned black.
|
|
Clouds are spinning.
|
|
The neighbors,
|
|
Clutching their loved ones,
|
|
Race to their storm cellars.
|
|
Nothing but warped wooden doors and rusty locks.
|
|
They won't shield them from the angry hand of God.
|
|
One of them screams at me to run for my life.
|
|
I only drift aimlessly to the middle of the street.
|
|
Fearless.
|
|
The clouds are ripped apart by the gale.
|
|
As the monster becomes.
|
|
The winds are whipping my hair in my face and tearing at my
|
|
clothes.
|
|
The trees up the street are slashed from their roots by the
|
|
moaning, growling abyss that
|
|
hurls itself toward me.
|
|
It spins so fast yet I can see each lawn chair, each picnic table,
|
|
each toy left carelessly
|
|
outside
|
|
Rotate slowly in it's grasp.
|
|
Sucking.
|
|
Sucking the life from the vacant street
|
|
And feeding on the fear from underground.
|
|
Branches and mailboxes rip through the air. They seem to aim for
|
|
me.
|
|
From up the street I can see it take the houses.
|
|
The roofs go first, shingle by shingle.
|
|
They fly so gracefully.
|
|
The echo of the windows crashing
|
|
Pierces through the roar of the winds.
|
|
The houses are gone.
|
|
They remain constant only in the funnel, spinning endlessly.
|
|
It lifts its foot for a moment,
|
|
Like a slithering dragon, intent on destruction.
|
|
Then it stomps back down on the storm cellar.
|
|
The wood splinters and lets go of it's hinges.
|
|
Lifeless bodies of people I once knew,
|
|
Naive neighbors seeking useless refuge from the hideous dragon.
|
|
Now soaring limp and helpless
|
|
In the dizzying whip of the winds.
|
|
When the novelty has worn out,
|
|
The dragon throws them back to earth
|
|
With such awesome force
|
|
That their bones shatter like delicate china.
|
|
It is time. I must challenge it.
|
|
Like the others before it,
|
|
This monster has taken too much.
|
|
All that is evil and all that is good stirs within its core.
|
|
Despite its rapid speed it seems to tiptoe towards me.
|
|
The convergence of destruction and new beginnings accepts my
|
|
challenge.
|
|
I do not run, I do not flinch.
|
|
Through the screaming winds, the splintering cellar doors, and the
|
|
shattering glass,
|
|
Through the roar of the dragon,
|
|
Comes a familiar whistle
|
|
Of boiling water.
|
|
I open my eyes
|
|
To find myself staring out of my bay window
|
|
At the blackened sky.
|
|
The door flies open,
|
|
Crashes into the wall....
|
|
|
|
|
|
--SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB--
|
|
|
|
|
|
"When Jesus descended into Hell, the sinners listened to his words and
|
|
were all saved. But the saints, believing as usual that they were being
|
|
put to the test, rejected his words and were all damned."
|
|
--Marcion, _Antithesis_
|
|
|
|
|
|
--SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB--
|
|
|
|
DON'T STOP SWAYiNG
|
|
by StormChaser
|
|
|
|
His fist connected once more with the man's jaw. She put a hand on his
|
|
shirtless back, telling him with her touch that is was over. He stood up, the
|
|
victor. Although the atmosphere weighed heavily with the smell of sweat,
|
|
blood, and rage, the pride of victory made him seem just a little taller. She
|
|
trembled with the fear and hatred of violence. But she also quivered with
|
|
desire for the man who held her tearstained face against his bare chest.
|
|
|
|
He, too, shook with a dismal excitement. He looked down at the unconscious
|
|
monster as it bled on the carpet. The man had it coming to him; he had gone
|
|
too far. His diseased mind revolved around her. Loving her, killing her, being
|
|
her. But the man didn't know about him. He didn't know that her would stop at
|
|
nothing to protect the precious creature, now weeping in his arms.
|
|
|
|
They held each other tightly as all the emotions of relief, fear,
|
|
excitement, and love floated around them, keeping them warm. The sirens
|
|
pierced the night, finalizing their safety. She looked up, into his benevolent
|
|
gaze and thanked him silently as they rocked back and forth. Out loud she
|
|
whispered, "Don't stop swaying."
|
|
|
|
--SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB--
|
|
|
|
|
|
[=- FiCTiON -=]
|
|
|
|
|
|
--SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB--
|
|
|
|
GREECE
|
|
by Crux Ansata
|
|
|
|
I don't know why we picked Greece.
|
|
|
|
For that matter, I don't quite know why we decided to make this trip at
|
|
all. Perhaps we were just trying to recapture something. Recapture what, I'm
|
|
not quite sure, but this is the best I can come up with.
|
|
|
|
Somehow, we had fallen apart. In one sense, this speaks of us as a
|
|
couple, but in another this speaks of us as individuals. Over time we had
|
|
parted ways, even as we were together. This was true spatially, temporally,
|
|
with her rehearsals and performances and my endless editing details and my own
|
|
circle of friends -- I could never stomach the kind of people she had to deal
|
|
with for her career -- we didn't see each other very much aside from bed and
|
|
those instances we'd almost be surprised and embarrassed to find ourselves
|
|
looking across a dinner table or over scripts and notes at each other.
|
|
|
|
But "real life", as it is called, is not so real, and this "reality" was
|
|
only the type, the symbol of the much more real life below the surface, as we
|
|
parted ways in our hearts.
|
|
|
|
* * * * *
|
|
|
|
After she left for school she only visited me once. We talked on the
|
|
phone, we wrote letters, but she only visited me once. She really had nothing
|
|
to come back to. Parents dead, family never really that close, a grandmother
|
|
slash surrogate mother that she always disliked a bit less than I.
|
|
|
|
That time is burned in my mind. There are times we remember, but then
|
|
there are times we cannot forget. This is one of the latter.
|
|
|
|
* * * * *
|
|
|
|
At first, we could keep ourselves happy through sheer containment. To an
|
|
extent we intended to be happy on our vacation, no matter what the truth may
|
|
be. Strained laughter, the pleasure of simply ignoring the pain. Happiest
|
|
few hours I'd had in years, actually. And then, in the little cottage I had
|
|
rented through conning a friend into loaning me more than I'd ever be able to
|
|
repay -- again -- we'd be forced to deal with each other.
|
|
|
|
We tried talking. It worked a little, but inevitably one or the other
|
|
would mention something -- a friend, a project, a get-together she forgot I
|
|
hadn't been her escort for -- and the room would ice over again.
|
|
|
|
We tried sex. That worked a little better. No talking, no thinking, no
|
|
contact, just the ritualized motions of showing you care. Could be done in
|
|
one's sleep, actually.
|
|
|
|
We tried fighting. That worked the best. It was something we both had a
|
|
hell of a lot of practice in.
|
|
|
|
* * * * *
|
|
|
|
When did it begin? Did it ever begin? (Does anything ever begin?) At
|
|
what point did we stop being "we, you and I" and start being "you and I, we"?
|
|
|
|
Does a relationship begin to die as soon as it is born, like a
|
|
metaphysical life? "Death begins at the moment of conception. The Pope says
|
|
so."
|
|
|
|
I think, to be a little less philosophical about it, this started when
|
|
she returned from school.
|
|
|
|
"I am expecting to meet a stranger here tonight."
|
|
|
|
That is what I told her on our first date after she came back, to visit.
|
|
I claimed my right as "kind of former but not really over boyfriend" quickly,
|
|
and hoped to see her as much as possible before she left me again.
|
|
|
|
"Have you?"
|
|
|
|
I couldn't answer. I just stood there, an uncomfortable distance from
|
|
her, an uncomfortable silence between us, and looked at my feet. I still
|
|
can't answer. How much did she change, and how much did I change, and how
|
|
much did I change us through my expectations?
|
|
|
|
There are some questions that simply *have* no answers. There are
|
|
questions we do not really want to have answered.
|
|
|
|
* * * * *
|
|
|
|
She yelled. She cried. I said things that hurt just with the saying.
|
|
She might have thrown something. Sometimes she does that. Ever since I
|
|
stopped standing near when I can smell the tears coming.
|
|
|
|
I dressed and I left. Out into the cold night of the forested hillside.
|
|
I walked through the woods, listening to the waves of the wine dark sea. Or
|
|
actually, what I discovered was just a brackish mountain stream.
|
|
|
|
I followed the sound of the water, and then, later, the river itself, up,
|
|
aimlessly upstream, fighting against the current. I slowly became aware that
|
|
the song of the river was being accompanied by the song of a girl's voice, and
|
|
followed that, too, along the river and up to a pool.
|
|
|
|
She didn't see me. Some shepherdess, I suppose, or village girl. Young.
|
|
I reached the shadowed edge of the clearing as she dropped her dress from her
|
|
shoulders, and as she slid into the water, turned her singing face into the
|
|
moonlight and shone with a corpse's pallor.
|
|
|
|
I approached, quietly, under the cover of her splashing and Greek
|
|
folksongs and the mumbling of the river, and sat beside her dress on the
|
|
shore. The dress was the off-white of poverty, or of utility, a covering
|
|
trying to be white but having to deal with the stains of life. I held it,
|
|
rough, weathered, real. Her scent still clung to it, earthy, and I tried to
|
|
make it seem unpleasant. And, somehow, the almost pathetic stitching, no
|
|
doubt representing hours in the firelight, tried to seem beautiful. It was a
|
|
battle of wills.
|
|
|
|
I sat and watched her play, for a while, pulling my jacket tighter, less
|
|
used to the night chill than her, and less warmed in my stillness. As she
|
|
pulled herself back on the shore, I lit up our faces as I lit a cigarette, and
|
|
briefly illuminated her goosebump covered body.
|
|
|
|
Apparently not startled in the least to find me sitting beside her
|
|
clothes in the moonlight, she laughed and babbled a lot of Greek. I shared
|
|
her smile, but not her conversation. After a few expressive gestures, I
|
|
shared my cigarettes.
|
|
|
|
A few gestures of my own, and she sat beside me, shivering as the wind
|
|
dried her, and pressed against me, my arm around her.
|
|
|
|
She talked, and I listened. She -- from time to time -- would laugh, and
|
|
I would smile. Finally, she sang a few more songs, and I looked, melancholy,
|
|
into the distance, or occasionally smiled back at her. She sat beside me, so
|
|
thoughtless, so shameless, I expect she must have been a little simple minded.
|
|
I suppose that's what I need sometimes, though. Simple.
|
|
|
|
And as we sat, I looked less into an obscure distance, and more into a
|
|
present obscurity, and her singing got closer and lower. Her gooseflesh had
|
|
gone, and she felt warm in my arms, and held me as I held her, warming each
|
|
other. A kiss, and perhaps, and perhaps nothing, or perhaps simply nothing I
|
|
can understand.
|
|
|
|
And I looked into the distance again, into the distant stars looking down
|
|
on us, and cradled her until she fell asleep, a vulnerable child in my arms,
|
|
surely not more than thirteen, fourteen, her skin looking less ghostly against
|
|
her dress, a shroud she was laid upon, shivering slightly as I stood, but not
|
|
yet wrapped in. In her sleep, she absently clutched for it, and I lifted the
|
|
edges over her body.
|
|
|
|
And one more kiss, and I was gone.
|
|
|
|
When I got back, she had locked all the doors. I figured she'd latched
|
|
them, too, so I didn't bother with the front door. Circled through the back,
|
|
leading into a hallway to the small bedroom. A concession to vacationers who
|
|
needed an escape route for nighttime visitors, I suppose.
|
|
|
|
I found her sprawled out on the bed, nude, her hair framing her face and
|
|
her limbs haphazardly tossed. In the pale moonlight coming through the
|
|
windows -- Americans don't shutter windows -- I could see a dark spot around
|
|
one arm, turned down. She'd cut her wrists again. Her other arm was across
|
|
her body, and a river of blood trickled between her breasts.
|
|
|
|
Unconscious like this I can feel a tenderness for her as intense as the
|
|
day we first kissed. I went into my suitcase and unpacked a washcloth and
|
|
some bandages, and praised God for indoor plumbing in two whole temperatures:
|
|
frozen and tepid.
|
|
|
|
I bathed her wrists and breasts, bandaged her. We both knew this
|
|
wouldn't kill her. On some subconscious level, or maybe it is intentional,
|
|
she always draws a little blood without cutting anything important. I don't
|
|
even know if it is a cry for attention, really. We all need an escape valve,
|
|
a way of hurting ourselves enough to let off steam without hurting ourselves
|
|
enough to make it permanent, enough to die. I think there was a certain blood
|
|
sacrifice ritual to the whole sequence. We'd fight, I'd leave, and when I'd
|
|
come home, more often than not I'd bandage her wounds, tuck her in, kiss her
|
|
on the forehead and spend a night staring into the cold darkness through tear
|
|
filled eyes.
|
|
|
|
She might have mumbled something as I lay her down. It might have been
|
|
nothing, or I might have heard her say, "I love you." She always knew I'd
|
|
come back. I suppose that is love. I suppose that trust, that I would return
|
|
-- that I would be there -- is love. If it isn't, I don't know what is.
|
|
|
|
* * * * *
|
|
|
|
"No," she is telling me. "You never seemed strong."
|
|
|
|
We are sitting on the hood of my car, the warmth of the cooling engine
|
|
warming us nicely in the cooling evening air. We are talking together; we are
|
|
not talking to each other. We gaze across the headstones with a chasm a
|
|
handspan across separating us. In the distance, I think I can see her leaving
|
|
again, for another semester away from me.
|
|
|
|
"Your shell seemed strong, but you seemed weak, if only because you
|
|
needed it." It is odd what kind of things come out when we think we are
|
|
parting. Things we hid from each other. Things we never noticed. Things we
|
|
never allowed ourselves to notice. "Or thought you needed it. With me you
|
|
didn't. With me you could have let it down, let yourself be vulnerable. I
|
|
always hated that about you. I felt you didn't trust me." Or not so odd,
|
|
perhaps. There are things we cannot allow ourselves to see, if we are to keep
|
|
a relationship. As our respective school careers ended and we came to realize
|
|
we had to be together, no matter how much we hated each other, we both had
|
|
things we had to forget. Every evening when I come back, I have to forget.
|
|
It is the only way to live.
|
|
|
|
I am vaguely studying a nothing in the distance, perhaps watching her
|
|
plane fly away again, giving the words a chance to run away before cluttering
|
|
the area with my own.
|
|
|
|
She clutches her knees against her breasts, her arms wrapped around her
|
|
shins. We have been here too long; she shivers as the warmth of the car
|
|
disappears with the last warmth of the sun. Her chin rests against her knees,
|
|
and when she talks, out of the corner of my eye I can see her head bob up and
|
|
down. Out of nowhere, I start watching her hair, without turning my head, as
|
|
I feel my mind trying to isolate the words I want. It is longer than I have
|
|
seen it on her -- except in pictures -- and it beats against her back in tempo
|
|
with her speech. It looks good on her. Everything looks good on her.
|
|
|
|
"Do you remember one time -- I haven't a clue what we were talking about
|
|
-- you told me you expected I'd been really teased as a child? You said you
|
|
could see how someone could turn out like me, as if I could be reduced to a
|
|
set of environmental factors, as if I was nothing more than my history? You
|
|
looked so condescending, so maternal. At that moment I was entirely
|
|
vulnerable. You know, I think I hated you at that moment."
|
|
|
|
She turns her face towards me. "I know." The distance is gone.
|
|
Somehow, I hear tenderness in her voice. For a moment, I think we see each
|
|
other. For a moment, we are real, and not abstract memories and might have
|
|
beens. For a moment, I feel the hate welling up again.
|
|
|
|
My nerve breaks first. I look back across the graves. "One must hate
|
|
anyone one is vulnerable to. Otherwise it will kill you. Love is the power
|
|
to hurt someone, but hate is the power to be hurt.
|
|
|
|
Somehow, we finished the evening, and the visit, and thought we had put
|
|
each other behind ourselves. And we had. And we always came back.
|
|
|
|
* * * * *
|
|
|
|
I don't know why we went there. I don't know why we went. Whatever it
|
|
was we were looking for, it was not in Greece. I don't expect it is anywhere,
|
|
in space. I thought it was somewhere in time, but I'm no longer sure.
|
|
|
|
Where is love? Where is union? Can you lose it, or do you just ride the
|
|
wave closer and then farther again?
|
|
|
|
Below the surface, inside, in the heart, or in the great Platonic ideal
|
|
world. That must be where love is. Somewhere there are the realities. If we
|
|
could see it, maybe we could know why we have to be together, whether we think
|
|
we love or hate each other.
|
|
|
|
And are these really different?
|
|
|
|
We went to Greece together, and we came back together. We always come
|
|
back, and on some level we are always together. We really have no choice.
|
|
And I, for one, am happier that way.
|
|
|
|
--SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB--
|
|
|
|
|
|
"She spotted me like dalmatians,
|
|
Her wick was slowly fading
|
|
She said, 'All I want from you is patience,'
|
|
But patience just keeps you waiting."
|
|
--Burke Ingraffia, "Patience Keeps You Waiting"
|
|
|
|
|
|
--SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB--
|
|
|
|
PEAS ON EARTH
|
|
by Clockwork
|
|
|
|
Incessantly lonely nomad seeking
|
|
large, overly obese, farm animal
|
|
for meaningful, possible long-term,
|
|
relationship in run-down trailer park.
|
|
|
|
And so His plan was in place. One of mindless proportion and infinite
|
|
wisdom. That is what the brochure said, anyway. Alan had been extremely
|
|
obsessed with paid-for-television advertising the past lunar cycle, even to
|
|
the point of becoming fluent in Spanish to catch the ones on Unavision.
|
|
|
|
he was in the PTA you know.
|
|
but it didn't have to be that way.
|
|
oh, I know.
|
|
terrible, isn't it?
|
|
horrible, horrible, horrible.
|
|
he has fleas you know.
|
|
but it didn't have to be that way.
|
|
oh, I know.
|
|
terrible, isn't it?
|
|
horrible, horrible, horrible.
|
|
|
|
Littering the 70s ensembled living room of his mother's home,
|
|
uncountable free brochures and cheaply packaged videotapes had been tossed
|
|
about by Him. This is where He sat, achingly reclining in a puke lime green
|
|
chair that had been in the family His entire life, while the ancient box of a
|
|
television sat on the floor in front of Him, oozing the words of his biddings.
|
|
His Father and HIS Father sat for mere moments in the same chair, leaving
|
|
behind a unmistakable mass of Them. Of hope and hate and large blistering
|
|
wrinkles caught on by the light.
|
|
|
|
This is where it is. This is where I'll be. This is what I am. This
|
|
is.
|
|
|
|
Thumbing through the frozen stuffing and turkey mixture on His lap, Alan
|
|
came across a shriveled green pea that had escaped from its walls, and eyed it
|
|
cautiously. You can never know about those Greenies. Crazy vegetables had
|
|
spread across the country, infecting many with their "Save the Trees" disease.
|
|
Only peas know such evil. Alan did not have plans to become one of them.
|
|
|
|
He averted his eyes away from the reservoir of gravy and pretended to
|
|
glance about at the wallpaper. The pea was attempting to scale a hunk of
|
|
turkey, heading straight for his flesh, but Alan knew this already, and
|
|
remained calm about it. Waiting for just the right moment, Alan seized his
|
|
form with deftly swift actions, and, jumping atop the limey chair with a
|
|
Scottish grunt, challenged the pea to war. Alan knew what this meant, and He
|
|
was prepared to stand behind His biddings. The pea, too, knew what that
|
|
meant, somehow.
|
|
|
|
Alan did not count on the cavalry of shriveled pea-like vegetables
|
|
standing behind the voice and body of its leader. Even some of the miniature
|
|
onion flavorings were full of conviction and pride. Alan knew what was to
|
|
come of this. He knew the cultivation of his existence had come to an end --
|
|
His tractor running out of fields to plow -- why waste it on a few
|
|
ill-doctored vegetables.
|
|
|
|
And so He bowed to the pea, extending His middle finger with apology.
|
|
Many out There would take this with offense, and promptly shoot Him in the
|
|
chest and then tell His mother. In the realms of the Kingdom, however, this
|
|
is wisely known as an apology of sorts -- something used to say, "Hey, man, I
|
|
was just kidding about that whole frozen vegetables suck thing. So, like,
|
|
chill."
|
|
|
|
And that was that.
|
|
|
|
--SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB--
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Make death die."
|
|
--Valentinus
|
|
|
|
|
|
--SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB--
|
|
|
|
MENTAL MALPRACTiCE
|
|
by Kilgore Trout
|
|
|
|
I jammed the syringe of novacaine into my pineal eye, but I could still
|
|
see the screams.
|
|
|
|
"Doctor, doctor," the nurse screamed, "the patient has anesthetized
|
|
himself. What do you recommend?"
|
|
|
|
The head doctor pulled down his surgical mask and smiled. "Make the boy
|
|
feel again," he said, pulling up a stool and lighting a cigarette. "After all,
|
|
that's why he came to us -- to feel."
|
|
|
|
Two orderlies appeared and wrestled me onto the gurney. I managed to
|
|
kick the nurse in the chest before I was finally strapped down. The leather
|
|
restraints immediately became soaked with my sweat. The doctor approached me
|
|
with a large scalpel.
|
|
|
|
"Goddammit, they sure don't make patients like they used to." The nurse
|
|
drew a line across my forehead with a marker as the doctor spoke. "I'll be
|
|
happy when Armageddon comes, Nurse. Then everyone will be nice and docile so
|
|
I won't have to put with this resistance shit."
|
|
|
|
"Doctor, I thought when Jesus comes back, there won't be any sick
|
|
people," the nurse said.
|
|
|
|
The surgeon looked up quizzically. "No sick people? Of course there will
|
|
be sick people! What else is a doctor in God's Army supposed to do? But
|
|
that's still in the future. Right now, we've got some cutting to do."
|
|
|
|
My mouth opened to yell for help, but the nurse shoved in a ball gad and
|
|
fastened it around my head. The door to the O.R. opened and a petite man
|
|
peered in.
|
|
|
|
"Uh, doctor," he said, pointing out into the hall, "the patient in Three
|
|
is flatlining, and he doesn't have insurance. Should we still try to save
|
|
him?"
|
|
|
|
"You know the rules," the doctor scolded. "If we save one person for
|
|
free, we've got to start saving everybody for free. Go wheel him down to the
|
|
morgue and call it a night."
|
|
|
|
"Righto," replied the man, who promptly disappeared.
|
|
|
|
The doctor leaned over and cut along the black line. Blood ran into my
|
|
eyes, and I waited in darkness as he got a good grip and snapped the top of my
|
|
head off.
|
|
|
|
"Jesus, Nurse, would you look at this brain?" I heard him say. "His
|
|
cerebellum is so huge! And look right here -- the mantle is starting to break
|
|
up. There must be something wrong with his core."
|
|
|
|
I heard the whir of a drill and then a goopy, splattering noise.
|
|
|
|
* * * * *
|
|
|
|
Anne shook her head and dabbed her eyes with a tissue. "Why did this
|
|
have to happen to us? Why, Cyrus? What have we done?"
|
|
|
|
"Nothing," I consoled, putting my arm around her. "Sometimes these
|
|
things happen. I don't know what else to say. We'll get through it,
|
|
somehow."
|
|
|
|
"But our child is dead! I saw the truck coming, and I tried to swerve
|
|
away, but it was... too late. And when I saw her in the car seat..."
|
|
|
|
"It's not your fault, Anne. Don't blame yourself. You did everything
|
|
you could."
|
|
|
|
She continued to cry, and I just held her. I couldn't do anything else.
|
|
|
|
* * * * *
|
|
|
|
When I came to in the ICU, I panicked. Tubes were running all across my
|
|
body, and I could feel something cold and metallic in my ass. My hands and
|
|
feet were still strapped onto the bed. One of the orderlies was sitting by
|
|
the door, reading _Behold a Pale Horse_ by William Cooper. He glanced up,
|
|
noticing that I was awake.
|
|
|
|
"Oh, good," he said. "I'll go get the doctor."
|
|
|
|
A few minutes later he returned with the surgeon in tow.
|
|
|
|
"Feeling better, Cyrus?" he asked, picking up the clipboard on my bed.
|
|
|
|
"I dunno, Doc. Why don't you tell me? And why is there something up my
|
|
ass?"
|
|
|
|
He chuckled. "All of your questions will be answered in due time. right
|
|
now, I think I ought to introduce myself, seeing that we've been through quite
|
|
a bit. My name is Dr. Eric Driskell, and I'm the head surgeon at this
|
|
wonderful institute. I would shake your hand, but, uh, you're all tied up."
|
|
|
|
"And why is that?" I asked.
|
|
|
|
"Oh dear. I was hoping to avoid this part, but I guess you ought to
|
|
know. We don't want you to accidentally dislodge your brain."
|
|
|
|
"Excuse me?"
|
|
|
|
"You know those cheap doctor jokes everyone tells? Well, this is the
|
|
part where the doctor tells the bad news."
|
|
|
|
"And that would be?"
|
|
|
|
"Now, Cyrus, you've got to understand that in a huge bureaucracy like
|
|
this, mixups do occur. I'd suggest starting with Max Weber to learn--"
|
|
|
|
"What the hell is wrong with me?" I yelled.
|
|
|
|
The doctor grimaced. "We seem to have misplaced the top of your head."
|
|
|
|
"You what?"
|
|
|
|
"Don't worry. Our crack team of hospital janitors is scouring the
|
|
hospital as we speak, looking in trashcans and bedpans. We think it might
|
|
have been used for hair implants by mistake."
|
|
|
|
I tried to discern if the top of my head was indeed missing. I couldn't
|
|
tell.
|
|
|
|
"Look, Cy -- do you mind if I call you Cy?" Dr. Driskell asked.
|
|
|
|
I shook my head.
|
|
|
|
"Jesus, don't do that! Your brain could go airborne." He turned to the
|
|
orderly. "We need a head restraint pronto. Make sure it's got lots of knobs
|
|
and stuff so I can tweak the hell out of the configuration."
|
|
|
|
The orderly left. What kind of doctor was this?
|
|
|
|
"What kind of doctor are you?" I inquired aloud.
|
|
|
|
"I already told you. I'm the head surgeon." He grinned. "Get it?
|
|
Head? Surgeon?"
|
|
|
|
"I'm not really in a humorous mood," I admonished. "And if you can't
|
|
find the top of my head?"
|
|
|
|
"I guess we're calling it a grandiose trepenation. Do you know what a
|
|
trepanation is?"
|
|
|
|
I started to shake my head, thought better of it, and simply said, "No."
|
|
|
|
"Ah." The doctor started pacing. "In ancient cultures, they would drill
|
|
a hole into someone's head to release evil demons and spirits. Nowadays,
|
|
there are some who say that by drilling a hole in the skull, undue pressure is
|
|
removed from the brain which allows the brain to 'breathe' and causes instant
|
|
happiness. You might say we've given your brain air-conditioning. If we
|
|
can't find your brain, you'll still be a happy man. It might be a bit hard to
|
|
get laid, but that's why God created roofies. I've got some if you'd like a
|
|
few."
|
|
|
|
"How come I'm not feeling happy right now? Why am I really pissed off?"
|
|
|
|
"You're not? Not even a little blissful?"
|
|
|
|
"No."
|
|
|
|
"Not feeling any love for humanity?"
|
|
|
|
"Nope."
|
|
|
|
"There's no hints of illumination running around in your head?"
|
|
|
|
"Absolutely nothing of the sort."
|
|
|
|
Dr. Driskell frowned. "Damn, there goes that grant. Oh well. We'll get
|
|
you all patched up."
|
|
|
|
* * * * *
|
|
|
|
I got into bed next to Anne and kissed her cheek. She pushed me away.
|
|
|
|
"Not tonight, Cyrus," she complained. "I'm not in the mood."
|
|
|
|
I turned over onto my back. "Anne, you haven't been 'in the mood' for
|
|
four months. I've been as patient as humanly possible, but this is getting
|
|
very trying."
|
|
|
|
"I just don't want to have an accident."
|
|
|
|
"I'm going to wear a condom."
|
|
|
|
"But it might break."
|
|
|
|
"Anne, I told you I'd get a vasectomy. Then we wouldn't have to worry at
|
|
all. You can't keep living in fear like this."
|
|
|
|
"What if something happened to me? You wouldn't be able to have more
|
|
kids. I just can't go through that again. There's no way I'm getting
|
|
pregnant again."
|
|
|
|
"We don't even have to have sex tonight. I can't remember the last time
|
|
we've done anything romantic. You can't keep this up. It's going to tear you
|
|
apart."
|
|
|
|
She looked away. "It's just going to take some time."
|
|
|
|
I slid out of bed and went to the bathroom to masturbate.
|
|
|
|
* * * * *
|
|
|
|
I woke up to the kind smile of a nurse.
|
|
|
|
"Good news, Cyrus," she exclaimed. "I think you're going to be a happy
|
|
man today."
|
|
|
|
"I have to admit, I didn't think you'd find the top of my head," I said.
|
|
"Where was it?"
|
|
|
|
"Not so fast. We didn't find your scalp, but we did find one that
|
|
belonged to an elderly gentleman. His head is larger than yours, but Dr.
|
|
Driskell says with a little cosmetic work, it should do just find."
|
|
|
|
"I don't want some old man's head. I want my head with my hair on it."
|
|
|
|
"Now, now," the nurse scolded. "Beggars can't be choosers. Some people
|
|
would give their left arm for a new head of hair."
|
|
|
|
"I bet some people here have," I said coldly.
|
|
|
|
"There's no need to be rude. The doctor will be in later to talk to
|
|
you."
|
|
|
|
I tried to sit up, but the head restraint kept me immobile. "Nurse, can
|
|
I ask you something?"
|
|
|
|
"You may," she said with a manufactured smile.
|
|
|
|
"During the operation, was the doctor really talking about the end of the
|
|
world?"
|
|
|
|
She opened the door to leave. "Oh, we always talk about God and pray to
|
|
Him during operations. That's why we do such a good job. Have a nice day."
|
|
|
|
* * * * *
|
|
|
|
My mother-in-law called one day and told me that Anne had moved in with
|
|
her.
|
|
|
|
"Let me speak to her, Mom," I said.
|
|
|
|
"She doesn't want to talk," she replied. "Cyrus, Anne can't deal with
|
|
you right now. She's barely holding together here. She says she doesn't want
|
|
to be a burden to you, so you can get on with your life."
|
|
|
|
"But we're in this together," I complained. "Anything she goes through,
|
|
I go through."
|
|
|
|
"You weren't there, Cyrus. You didn't have to look at the bashed-in head
|
|
of your daughter. You don't have to see that image every night while you try
|
|
to sleep."
|
|
|
|
"Don't you think I still think about Juliana? Don't you think my mind
|
|
conjures up horrible recreations of what happened? Dammit, Mom, Anne needs
|
|
me, and I need her."
|
|
|
|
"You're probably right, you're probably right. But this is Anne's
|
|
choice, and Jake and I are going to stand by her. We enrolled her in therapy
|
|
today, and with time everything will get better."
|
|
|
|
"And where does this leave me? She's my wife. I want to talk to her."
|
|
|
|
"In time, dear, in time. When Anne is ready, she'll see you."
|
|
|
|
I hung up the phone. "Make death die," Valentinus wrote. How I wished I
|
|
could bring my little Juliana so I could win Anne back. But I couldn't
|
|
perform miracles, and now the two most precious things in my life were gone.
|
|
Would I be next?
|
|
|
|
* * * * *
|
|
|
|
I spent the next three days in a normal hospital room while Driskell
|
|
revamped his efforts to find the top of my head. I told him I didn't want the
|
|
old, fat man's scalp, and he said he understood, even though I detected a
|
|
sense of disappointment in his voice. They still had me in a head brace, so
|
|
one of the orderlies had wheeled in a television on a cart since I couldn't
|
|
watch the one high up in the corner. Those three days were full of outrageous
|
|
talk shows and even more outrageous soap operas.
|
|
|
|
Once, when I was in high school, a few friends and I were going through a
|
|
bunch of my parent's unmarked videotapes on the chance that we might find
|
|
something racy. One of the tapes contained old soap opera episodes, and we
|
|
fast-forwarded through them hoping something else might be on the tape. We
|
|
noticed that after coming back from a commercial, the camera was on a closeup
|
|
of someone's face and then pulled out. Before a commercial, the camera would
|
|
zoom in on an actor's face. This occurred all the time, and I realized while
|
|
lying in my hospital bed that the lack of creativity found in the camerawork
|
|
extended to all other aspects of the show as well. Such a discovery was
|
|
trivial, but there's not much to do when your head is restrained and you have
|
|
to let the nurses feed you.
|
|
|
|
The one high point of those three days was J-me, a medical student who
|
|
was doing a thesis on deviant surgical procedures that caused gnosis. She
|
|
told me that when she happened to glance in my room, see me immobilized and
|
|
notice that half of my head was missing, she knew a prime subject had been
|
|
found. I knew I'd disappoint her, but I needed the company. Besides, anyone
|
|
who spelled their name like she did had to be somewhat interesting.
|
|
|
|
After she had figured out that I hadn't received any type of access to
|
|
gnosis, she dispensed with her scholarly questions. she came by everyday for
|
|
a bit, though, and I appreciated that.
|
|
|
|
"You never told my why you had this operation in the first place," J-me
|
|
said one afternoon in a commercial break of _All My Children._
|
|
|
|
"I wanted to be able to love again," I explained. "My daughter died in a
|
|
car wreck a few years ago, which caused my ex to go into deep depression. She
|
|
finally left me, and I just didn't think I could give myself to people again.
|
|
I tried everything -- therapy, hypnosis, accupuncture, yoga, alcohol. I
|
|
thought maybe medical science could give me a cure, but I fear that field is
|
|
more fucked up than I am."
|
|
|
|
She sipped bad hospital coffee from a styrofoam cup. "I'm sorry. I
|
|
didn't know. And you didn't understand that they'd be tearing off part of
|
|
your head?"
|
|
|
|
I laughed. "I thought he was speaking metaphorically. I'd rather be
|
|
droll and uncaring than a freak."
|
|
|
|
"Well, at least you can say you've got an open mind," J-me joked.
|
|
|
|
"Jeez, does everybody in the medical profession make bad jokes?" I asked.
|
|
|
|
"Really, listen. You've experienced something few people have."
|
|
|
|
"Nobody should have to go through that."
|
|
|
|
"But you did. And you survived. You're a strong person. Haven't you
|
|
learned anything from your ordeal?"
|
|
|
|
"Yeah. Before the operation I was depressed and angry. Now I'm
|
|
depressed, angry, and ugly as hell. Maybe when I die Michael Jackson will buy
|
|
my skull, and then I'll be able to spend eternity on a pedestal next to the
|
|
bones of the Elephant Man."
|
|
|
|
"Most people would already by raving mad if they lost part of their head.
|
|
But here we sit, having a conversation like it's an ordinary experience."
|
|
|
|
"Maybe those people who are crazy have achieved gnosis and just can't
|
|
communicate it."
|
|
|
|
"Then what about you?" J-me asked. "You seem to be functioning
|
|
normally."
|
|
|
|
"I'm still in the hospital. Stick me outside and see how long I last.
|
|
Do you think I would 'function normally' in the real world looking like this?"
|
|
|
|
"It'd be more of the people around you who wouldn't act correctly. They'd
|
|
take a look at the hole in your head and freak. And if you ever went to
|
|
parties, people would wonder whether to play certain Nine Inch Nails and
|
|
Cracker songs."
|
|
|
|
I pretended to vomit. "There's that horrible sense of humor again. You
|
|
oughta have Dr. Driskell take a look at that."
|
|
|
|
"Fuck no, Cyrus. After seeing what happened to you, I'm doing all of my
|
|
operations myself."
|
|
|
|
"Wouldn't that hurt?"
|
|
|
|
"Not with the right drugs. Besides, I think there'd be something real
|
|
special about cutting into yourself and not feeling it. You really would be
|
|
in control of your life. If you could do that and not feel it, you could kill
|
|
yourself and not even experience the pain. You're holding the scalpel, and
|
|
you can either patch yourself up or do away with it. It doesn't really
|
|
matter, one way or the other, because at the time you are an observer, a third
|
|
party whose only interest is to cut and leave."
|
|
|
|
I glanced over at J-me. "You can be really strange sometimes," I said.
|
|
|
|
"But you listen," she replied. "I've got to go make my rounds. If you
|
|
need anything, you know where to find me."
|
|
|
|
"Thanks. Later."
|
|
|
|
J-me left and I started flipping through the talk shows, trying to decide
|
|
which ones I'd like to be on. I was pretty sure it wouldn't be too hard to
|
|
get on one now.
|
|
|
|
* * * * *
|
|
|
|
The gravestone was simple but beautiful. "Juliana Emily Martin," it
|
|
read. "Born February 29th, 1995, died September 23, 1995." I never could
|
|
figure out what pithy saying to put on the gravestone. Anne said we shouldn't
|
|
put anything.
|
|
|
|
I took a swig from the flask. The alcohol burned my throat. I stared at
|
|
the dates. A year ago today. I took another drink.
|
|
|
|
When a child dies, especially your own, you wonder about how much pain
|
|
they felt. Part of that derives from wanting to take that pain from them and
|
|
bear it yourself. I always hoped she died instantly and only felt happiness
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during her short life.
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Sometimes I wish I was Juliana. I think Anne beat me to it, though.
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* * * * *
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My eyes opened to the sight of a brick wall. I glanced around and saw
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that I was in an alley, lying in a bed of garbage, leaves, and cigarette
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butts. I stood up and found a payphone a few streets down. I dialed
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information and got J-me's phone number.
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"Hello?" she asked.
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"It's me, Cyrus," I answered. "I'm out of the hospital."
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"They let you go?"
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"Well, let's just say I didn't know I was going to be released until I
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woke up in a goddamn alley. They did bandage my head, which was nice."
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"Those fuckers," J-me fumed. "We'll sue their asses for every penny
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they've got. We'll get Driskell's license revoked and get him put in jail for
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gross bodily harm. That hospital will--"
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"Hold on, hold on. I don't even want to think about those people right
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now. Could you just come pick me up?"
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"But you want to sue them, don't you?"
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"Not really. Besides, I think I've already figured out my problem. It's
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got nothing to do with my head. Just come pick me up."
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J-me huffed. "You really want to spend the rest of your life like that?"
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"You don't seem to mind it too much."
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"Well, I'm different. Other people--"
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"Other people will have to deal with it. We'll talk over dinner."
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"Okay. You sure you're alright?" she asked.
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I glanced down at the ground where the bandages and my brain were strung
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about. "Perfectly fine," I assured her. "I've never felt better."
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--SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB--
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State of unBeing is copyrighted (c) 1996 by Kilgore Trout and
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Apocalypse Culture Publications. All rights are reserved to cover, format,
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editorials, and all incidental material. All individual items are
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copyrighted (c) 1996 by the individual author, unless otherwise stated. This
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file may be disseminated without restriction for nonprofit purposes so long
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as it is preserved complete and unmodified. Quotes and ideas not already
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in the public domain may be freely used so long as due recognition is
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provided. State of unBeing is available at the following places:
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CYBERVERSE 512.255.5728 14.4
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TEENAGE RiOt 418.833.4213 14.4 NUP: COSMIC_JOKE
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THAT STUPID PLACE 215.985.0462 14.4
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ftp to ftp.io.com /pub/SoB
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World Wide Web http://www.io.com/~hagbard/sob.html
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Submissions may also be sent to Kilgore Trout at <kilgore@sage.net>. The SoB
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distribution list may also be joined by sending email to Kilgore Trout.
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--SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB--
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