286 lines
10 KiB
Plaintext
286 lines
10 KiB
Plaintext
THE INTERNAL LIFE
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The difference between a blow dryer and a flame thrower?
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You make the call.
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Something to do with tactics...
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A firm grasp of the obvious.
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Another stunning victory for the uncunning,
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The glass jaw of defeat.
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In the international magazine shop, the proprietor plays
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The World's Worst Ethnic Music, volume two.
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His lucky tape.
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My favorite genre of music: pointless noodling.
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Or rather, Pointillist Mood Ring.
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Yours too? Whatta team!
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Nobody promised us beauty--the stairway
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To the apartment caked with paint the color of a toothache.
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Nothing you would have tolerated in a fire escape
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Half a lifetime ago. Sorry sweetie.
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Now your working life is half over and what've you got?
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A chicken in every pot and not a pot to piss in
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And the good taste not to waste your wishes on realism.
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Saving grace that the internal life lasts longer than long:
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Stars shall fall from the sky,
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Ibuprofen bottles shall pop their childproof caps!
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But not yet, maybe not even soon.
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What fun would that be? What challenge?
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After work you hear:
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"Anchor Steam is to me what spinach is to Popeye."
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Ain't nobody's business if I say
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Outside the Art Factory all the young painters
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Owe themselves a living,
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Lined up dressed in black, praying
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God I hope my grant comes through
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God I hope my grant comes through--
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Money destined for names everybody already knows.
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Next up, the firing squad,
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A better bad movie,
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A widget, a mouse-trap, a paradigm, a school.
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A trend, if we're lucky.
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Sunday October 28, 1990 5:45 pm SF Coffee Co.
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David Fox
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DO WHAT YOU LOVE AND THE MONEY WILL FOLLOW, IF YOU VISUALIZE A RICH
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RELATIVE (WHO LIKES YOU) DYING REAL SOON NOW
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Let's talk data.
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You're DBased. All sorted out. All out of sorts.
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More debris from the Information Age
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Scattershot rattletrap ricochet all the way home.
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The usual "chew on this, buddy."
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Very infotaining.
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The word "networking" has aquired so many meanings
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It now means everything.
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So give it up, give in to it.
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There's twelve steps out there somewhere
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That address your particular problem.
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As opposed to that dweeb over there,
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Who imagines himself an information surfer in mid-dude-ism,
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But in a parallel reality
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He's just a guy with an ulcer for a job,
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A flycasting wannabe
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With a Sharper Image catalog for an imagination.
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"Watch the undertow, buddy.
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Watch the undertow. "
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We didn't make this world, so we'll have to lie to it.
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Is it resume time? We'll let you know.
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News is not reported, it is released
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Wicked as a spitball. Write a personals ad:
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"Desperate seeking insanely desperate. Someone
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Who will take me."
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Upload it to the on-line service. She'll buy it.
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Why not? She's a consumer.
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Dinner, drinks, dancing, and maybe later,
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Date-rape.
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That's the way business is done. It's a career,
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Not your life or anything. Now bend over.
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With enough coke it can even seem like pleasure.
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But don't forget to count them beans. Keep your receipts.
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The city is just a conduit for business.
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Plug and play. Plug away.
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Spelunk your synapses for the next innovation:
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Misfire or mismanagement. Rising stars go nova,
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Then you're out on your ass. Resume time!
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Jerk your fingers to the known. You've got connections.
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Work them puppies!
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So there it is:
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The state of the art, the state of the states.
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All wired up and nothing to know.
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We'll get back to you.
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Wednesday November 7, 1990 11:12 pm
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David Fox
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FUNEREAL:
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A word from another age, an age of
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What? Property? Propriety?
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To us it's all Zagnut bars and Rice Krispies:
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"First, you harvest the rice. Then..."
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The new term for bus is "crack shuttle,"
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And let's not get into the MicroChannel(tm)
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Versus Extended Industry Standard Architecture bit, okay?
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With computers, I'll take the chip
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And let everything else fall where it may,
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As if performance were speed and speed only.
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Spinelli's espresso,
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A dog so nervous, even his pecker jitters.
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To work downtown, you not only have to do the job,
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But be pretty enough for them, and wear the right clothes.
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You have to talk the talk, and walk the talk,
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A real no-brainer. Duh-on-a-stick.
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Precision is greatly overrated:
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I say close enough for jazz, close enough for government work.
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Just round the tax I owe
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Up to the nearest o-let's-say ten thousand.
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Don't deal with decimals. That part of the brain is dead.
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So let's mourn it now, the death of calculation.
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Ten hours of silence, a nice round number.
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We've got vending machines full of Zagnut bars for the engineers And
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accountants, so nobody else needs to count out change.
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Sunday November 4, 1990 4:11 pm SF Coffee Co.
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David Fox
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HARDWIRED
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In the desert, the boring desert the jarhead sleeps tonight.
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Dream on, white boy. Wake me up when I'm over it.
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Back here at home where he used to vote
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All the good causes are lined up and down the street:
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Feed the homeless dinner tonight, stop US militarism, stop
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Prop pick a number, any number.
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"I don't want to argue, I just want you to agree with me."
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The perfect marriage of the Harvard School of Business MBA
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And the U of Anyold MFA:
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An economy based on weapons that don't work.
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The usual revenge of the second rate.
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We've gotta blow up some tanks so we can build more.
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"Stick with me, kid, you'll go
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Bankrupt." The Savings and Loans have all closed down,
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But the ATMs are everywhere. Now they've got your address,
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Next they'll have you pissing in a jar.
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The proof is in the putting
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Out, putting down, putting off. It's always been put up and shut up
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Or shut down the whole operation.
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A shut off valve is needed, is blown.
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A whole generation that grew up in video arcades,
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And would rather shoot down aircraft
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Than shoot off their mouths? I can hardly believe that.
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Between the neo-urbane musings of the pols
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And the foul mouthings of the unleashed mentally ill,
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The have-nots ask the almost-have-nots for change.
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You don't want change.
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You're one paycheck away yourself.
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The work would be hilarious if it didn't kill you. No ideas but in
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Excuses, if the good ones aren't all spoken for.
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Between the quick and the dead and the quicker and the quicklime,
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Hell, there must be hundreds of ways to turn a desert
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Into glass.
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Tuesday November 13, 1990 8:28 pm
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David Fox
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BENDING THE ELECTIONEER
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Kathleen was quoting somebody when she said
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"You can't swing a dead cat by the tail in San Francisco
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Without hitting somebody with a nose ring"
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And I meant to ask "Is that the law
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Or just a statistical analysis?"
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In the mail ten pounds of Voter Information
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I don't want to read.
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What do you expect in a state whose history starts out
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Like a small Latin American country then turns
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Into a cartoon?
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The candidates don't matter.
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Its all those propositions, home-brewed law. Gotta study up.
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BackEastDownSouth we used the familiar formula:
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Vote and complain, vote and complain.
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We're in reverse:
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How much participation can we stand?
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"The voters wanted it": the perfect excuse
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When our pols run for elsewhere office and want to sound-byte
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less liberal.
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Such individuals that rise to serve!
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Why would we want to ignore them?
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Sunday October 28, 1990 8:01 pm
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David Fox
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URBANISH ENTHUSIASMS
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You can respect anything, but awe just happens.
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I'm living proof I'll live through this
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But what does that prove?
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No end to view it from but now,
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Or now
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Or now...like outtasight, but hardly insight.
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Might as well be the jerk
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And heave of industrial parts
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If you're actually gonna drink that yellow drool
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Straight from the faucet.
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We do not endure the city, we are it,
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Bile, backwash, and look! what a view!
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I can hardly believe that's us too--
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The pyramid lit up, skinny sky-finger
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Finger fucks the clouds,
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Gives god and everybody the finger.
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I'd second that, if there weren't already such a crowd,
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But look what it is!
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Brighter than stars! And closer!
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If we could only breathe this crap, it'd be paradise.
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Monday October 22, 1990 12:00 am SFCC, 10:05 pm
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David Fox
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ANOTHER GODDESS POEM
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Whatcha gonna do when honeybunny goes Flake-O?
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As Senator Don Riegle Jr. of Michigan
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Once said in a tape-recorded conversation with an aide:
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"I--I--God, I feel such super love for you.
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By the way, the newsletter should start arriving."
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No anti-bodies for this disease, no sir.
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No wuss this.
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"Healing wounds all times,
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What you don't hurt won't know you..."
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Just do the gig, okay Nancy?
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The lesbian dressed biker-butch and I cruise the same
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Women--too young for either of us--
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Outside SF Coffee Co., the sun
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On the coffee-stained sidewalk, face sides, school folding chairs.
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Learn something why doncha?
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"If I want your opinion, I'll beat it outta ya."
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We laughed at that--in sickness, health. Vice inverse-o.
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O, we can buy books from the happiness industry,
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We can pay cash money for counseling,
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We can really spend some time on what's really wrong with us...
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We can grow into it:
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The perfect mate.
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Or what the hell, just visualize it. Nice try. Instead it's:
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"I feel such super love for you I could buy you
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A mirror, cheaper than a coffin."
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You send me my stuff, through friends, in a bag.
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I send you your stuff. Same bag, different friends.
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On the sidewalk, on a folding chair custom designed
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For a howling pain in the ass,
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She sips coffee, squirms in her leathers,
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Reads another page of another book on
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The One True Goddess.
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Burps loud. Says "'Scuse ME."
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Sunday October 14, 1990 4:50 pm SFCC
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Wednesday October 17, 1990 9:14 pm
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David Fox
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X-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-X
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Another file downloaded from: The NIRVANAnet(tm) Seven
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& the Temple of the Screaming Electron Taipan Enigma 510/935-5845
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Burn This Flag Zardoz 408/363-9766
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realitycheck Poindexter Fortran 510/527-1662
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Lies Unlimited Mick Freen 801/278-2699
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The New Dork Sublime Biffnix 415/864-DORK
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The Shrine Rif Raf 206/794-6674
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Planet Mirth Simon Jester 510/786-6560
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"Raw Data for Raw Nerves"
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X-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-X
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