253 lines
9.8 KiB
Plaintext
253 lines
9.8 KiB
Plaintext
|
||
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO oOOOO OOOO. OOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
|
||
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" .OOOOOO OOOOOo OOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
|
||
OOOO oOOOOOOO OOOOOOO. OOOO oOOOO
|
||
OOOO .OOOO OOOO OOOOOOOOo OOOO OOOO"
|
||
OOOO oOOOO OOOO OOOO "OOOO. OOOO OOOOo .OOOO'
|
||
OOOO .OOOO" OOOO OOOO OOOOoOOOO "OOOO. oOOOO
|
||
OOOO oOOOOOOO..OOOO OOOO "OOOOOOO OOOOoOOOO"
|
||
OOOO .OOOO"""OOOOOOOO OOOO OOOOOO "OOOOOOO'
|
||
OOOO oOOOO ""OOOO OOOO "OOOO OOOOOO
|
||
|
||
|-----------------------------------------------------------------------------|
|
||
| |
|
||
| There Ain't No Justice |
|
||
| |
|
||
| #63 |
|
||
| |
|
||
|-----------------------------------------------------------------------------|
|
||
- Going Crazy in the Suburbs 06: Changing Values -
|
||
by Hairy Leech
|
||
|
||
|
||
so i was sitting there, looking at my homely little terminal program, the
|
||
thing that automatically booted every time i turned my computer on, and i
|
||
was bored.
|
||
|
||
first, first you see, first i went for the programs.
|
||
then, then you realize, then i went for the chatting.
|
||
now, now you understand, now i want neither.
|
||
|
||
so i was sitting there, looking at my homely little terminal program, the
|
||
thing that automatically booted every time i turned my computer on, and i
|
||
was a thinking that my values, they be changing once more.
|
||
|
||
first, first you see, first i loved all kinds of theft. then, then you
|
||
realize, then i was caught, but that had little effect. now, now you
|
||
understand, now i feel as if it's wrong, so i no longer do it.
|
||
|
||
not that that has anything to do with any of this, mind you.
|
||
|
||
so i was sitting there, looking at my homely little terminal program, the
|
||
thing that automatically booted every time i turned my computer on, and i
|
||
was realizing i was no longer a child.
|
||
|
||
i've done enough so far to know what i like.
|
||
|
||
i like to write, but that has definate draw backs. only a handfull of
|
||
people eventually read whatever it is that i write, so i have a very small
|
||
amount of feedback on it, whatever it is, if any at all.
|
||
|
||
and out of that handfull of people, only perhaps one or two or, dare i
|
||
imagine, three, take any single bit of it seriously and think about what
|
||
i'm trying to say.
|
||
|
||
and out of those one or two or, dare i imagine, three people, i'd say
|
||
perhaps only one actually somewhat, to the smallest extent possible,
|
||
understands what it is that i am saying.
|
||
|
||
and that one person, of course, is me.
|
||
|
||
well, i imagine so.
|
||
|
||
i mean, i don't really sit down and say, "i want to say this this and
|
||
this." not at all. so who knows what i'm trying to say. surely i don't. or
|
||
do i? hmmm. points to ponder.
|
||
|
||
i like to read, but that has definate draw backs. books cost money, you
|
||
see, and that happens to be the one large thing that i am lacking.
|
||
|
||
and of course there is the library, the place that i never get to, due to
|
||
lack of time.
|
||
|
||
and of course there is no time to read a book anyway, due to lack of time,
|
||
see above.
|
||
|
||
i like to paint, but that has definate draw backs. i refuse to use a brush,
|
||
because, well, i don't like brushes, and that leads, of course, to finger
|
||
painting. and that leads, of course, to fingers full of paint. and that
|
||
leads, of course, to that annoying and dull sensation you get when your
|
||
fingers are covered with multiple coats of paint.
|
||
|
||
and anyway, i don't paint pictures, heavens no, i paint.. things. things
|
||
that i don't understand. and that always leads to lots of annoying
|
||
questions.
|
||
|
||
well, actually, come to think of it and all, it dosen't. no one seems to
|
||
give a flying tuna cassarole about what my paintings mean. and that's quite
|
||
distressing.
|
||
|
||
well, i like to sit and mumble the secret inner-workings of my mind to one
|
||
person in particular, but that comes with it's own set of limitations. you
|
||
see, i like to do all that in the rain, in the nice pouring down rain, at
|
||
night, by the perfectly horrible lakewood lake.
|
||
|
||
to be in a nice somber mood, you see, talking about all of my little quirks
|
||
calmly, quietly, with someone who loves me, with someone who i love, while
|
||
watching the rain fall, watching it make the little explosions in the
|
||
water, like tiny bombs of water falling.. shockwaves streching out in all
|
||
directions, only to be struck by more miniature bombs.. it's quite
|
||
spiritual, if i do say so.
|
||
|
||
and this is all fine and good, but it has it's definate draw backs. for
|
||
instance, it has to be in the late spring or summer, so that it is actually
|
||
bareable to be sitting outside in the rain.
|
||
|
||
and, well, anyway.. my mind is a mess and not a good place to reside.
|
||
|
||
but i'm getting better.
|
||
|
||
with each passing day.
|
||
|
||
better and better.
|
||
|
||
i like my job, but you realize, that's a foolish thing to like.
|
||
|
||
while i sit and examine myself as i often do, as i'm doing now, in fact, i
|
||
think that i must make a horrible boyfriend. look at me the way i see
|
||
myself, if you please.
|
||
|
||
my life has been spent in quiet darkness, alone for 16 years.
|
||
my mood changes constantly for no apparant reason.
|
||
|
||
i can't quite say what it is that i want to say, even though, as we have
|
||
already established, i have no more of an idea what i want to say than you
|
||
do.
|
||
|
||
i can be soft, and gentle, and caring, and kind, and tender, and loving.
|
||
|
||
i can sit and share fragile parts of myself with people, giving them a
|
||
little bit of me to carry around and toy with, examine.
|
||
|
||
i can calm and sooth when there is call for calming and soothing.
|
||
|
||
i can cradle a sweet, beautiful young woman when she has to cry, clutch,
|
||
hold on to something.
|
||
|
||
i can tell her it's all going to be ok, even though i may doubt it myself
|
||
most of the time.
|
||
|
||
i can think up reasons for her to be happy and cheerful, even though the
|
||
same reasons constantly escape me when i need them.
|
||
|
||
i can be the kindest, sweetest person you've ever met.
|
||
|
||
but i can't be fun.
|
||
|
||
i don't know how to have fun.
|
||
|
||
i can make you laugh by insulting myself.
|
||
|
||
but i don't know how to have fun.
|
||
|
||
i blame my childhood. my formitive years. the years spent in darkness,
|
||
boredom. devoid of human contact save my family. the family i no longer
|
||
know.
|
||
|
||
i like to write, but people always decide to call me at 12:26 in the
|
||
morning and spoil whatever chain of thought i once had.
|
||
|
||
i was never able to tell anyone about personal problems while growing up. i
|
||
could never tell my father anything, because he never answered. anyone. i
|
||
could never tell my mother anything, i don't know why. she was.. is.. close
|
||
to me, closer than i'd like to think at times. but she isn't nearly close
|
||
enough. i could never tell anyone that i was scared of the future, scared
|
||
of being a failure, scared of the dark, afraid.. anything.
|
||
|
||
and now, now you see, now.. now i've finally strayed upon someone who i can
|
||
tell all these things, someone who understands it all, and i realize what a
|
||
small, frightened child i am inside.
|
||
|
||
there are times when i find myself doing things just because i want to be
|
||
babied. i want to be held. i want someone to hold me, stroke my hair, tell
|
||
me everything is perfectly well.
|
||
|
||
i walk around silent. i look down all the time. i sigh.
|
||
|
||
and then, then someone asks me, "what's wrong?" and what do i do? what do i
|
||
say?
|
||
|
||
"nothing."
|
||
|
||
i make them pry it out of me.
|
||
|
||
i don't know why i do these things.
|
||
|
||
i wonder if they're wrong.
|
||
|
||
i wonder if i should change.
|
||
|
||
unplugged the damned telephone, by cricky.
|
||
|
||
what a sordid tale i am.
|
||
|
||
my mind is like a tornado, a swirling mass of thoughts, spinning around so
|
||
very fast. with no meaning to any of it, and no intent or purpose, no idea
|
||
at all. no connections between any of the seperate pieces, no chains to
|
||
connect or bind.
|
||
|
||
and i think i have a rash.
|
||
|
||
i'm actually quite a boring shit. i'm surprised no one sees it. they see me
|
||
say things, they see me spill my life story for all to see, and they think
|
||
i hold things back. they think i'm (and i quote) "mysterious." and they
|
||
don't realize i'm actually just a boring shit.
|
||
|
||
i imagine one day they will, and then they'll loose interest completely.
|
||
|
||
i'm going slowly blind and deaf. how nice.
|
||
|
||
and 17 years from the starting line, the eyes are ahead by a few lashes,
|
||
but the ears are closing in quickly..
|
||
|
||
and my life is filled with quiet, somber moments.
|
||
|
||
if it isn't the rain, it's the fire. flickering candles, dim lighting, soft
|
||
warm carpet..
|
||
|
||
i want to ride a horse.
|
||
|
||
so i was sitting there, looking at my homely little terminal program, the
|
||
thing that automatically booted every time i turned my computer on, and i
|
||
was quite exausted actually, and i decided to enjoy the tortured silence of
|
||
dreamless sleep.
|
||
|
||
and i realized, i realized once again with the same happiness, with the
|
||
same joy and excitement, i realized i was in love.
|
||
|
||
|
||
<20> <20><> <20>
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD> <20> <20> <20>
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>۲<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD> <20><>
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD> <20>
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD> <20><><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD> <20> <20>
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD> Phoenix Modernz Systems: 908/830-TANJ
|
||
<EFBFBD>۱<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD> The Syndicate: 908/506-6651
|
||
<EFBFBD>۱<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD> The Matrix BBS: 908/905-6691
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD> First United Church Kalisti: 602/753-3784
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD> The Cell: 817/870-1060
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD> <20> <20>
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD> <20><><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD> <20>
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>۲<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD> <20><>
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD> <20> <20> <20> |