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         + doomed to obscurity + issue seven + february 10th, 1996 +


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              $$$$  $!!!!$ $!!!!$  $iiiiii$ $!!!!!$  $!!!!!$
              `"Y$$$ss$$$ `"Y$$ss$$$Y"' `"Y$$ss$$Y"'


 + time & time again it's proven ; stupid people shouldn't breathe - jasonf +

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 "i win a cookie"
 by - mogel
 
        man oh man.  i decided to take a break from my life of intense sexual
 gratification to push another heapin' of t-file mastery in your undeserving
 faces.  eat it up, lubdub!@

        since you asked, my big trip to illinois & indiana was a blast.
 there was a deep, contorted phear in the air as me, skooter, tao, murmur,
 jamesy, kojak, atlas, jamesy, quarex, swiss pope, vanir, & assorted warez
 guys met.  we pissed in your mother's face, jackass.

        wonder upon wonders!@  prism.net, dto's home system is back up &
 eternally in action again.  this includes the return of our mailing address
 dto@prism.net, our official ftp site ftp.prism.net /pub/text/dto, & our
 mailing list - where you can get gnu phresh dto issues 0-day, just by
 sending email to dto@prism.net & having the body of your mail say
 "subscribe dto".  that's easier than having SEX with YOUR MOTHER.

        TEEHEE!!!!!

        reflection upon reflection is the route to my erection, you know.
 speaking of being aroused, i've made my peace with dto's own sex-kitten,
 black francis.  hey, through all the crap that went down, it was ultimately
 pointed out _i_ was the jackass that irked bF enough to leave.  therefore,
 i'd like to sincerely apologize to both bF & all of dto's writers & readers
 for being a fuckface.

        MOGEL SUCKS, OKAY?  EVERYONE WRITE IT DOWN.

        at any rate, upon next issue of dto, bF will be back with us with his
 position as head editor restored.  everyone welcome bF back.

 everyone : "welcome back, bF!"
 bF : "HA HA!  FOOLED YOU, ASSFACES!"

        also, with this issue, james hetfield, one of the founders of dto
 that ducked out as a head guy right before issue one came out, has returned
 to us, full force.  we've decided to name jamesy to be our SIXTH
 president-type-chap.  this makes our executive staff :

        black francis - head editor
                mogel - director of submissions
               murmur - director of goat-spiel, pong, & vegetables.
                  tao - head of dto propaganda
                eerie - his boy elroy
               jamesy - head of the dto pets
 
        WHY THE HELL NOT?  WE CAN HAVE AS MANY PRESIDENTS AS WE WANT.  GO TO
 HELL#!

        this spectacular issue also features the FINALLY released dto
 manifesto - our political declaration which will be guiding our actions for
 many years to come.  as a little helping hand, i think i should give you the
 full story on how the manifesto came about, exactly.

        you see, here we are at issue seven of our beloved 'zine & we, as of
 now, have received a quite MINIMAL amount of media recognition.  this is not
 a good thing.

        after much contemplating & theorizing, it was hypothesized that the
 culprit in this most heinous of injustices is .. the name of the 'zine
 itself.

        "the name of the 'zine itself?", you ask.
        
        that's right, jack.  being entitled "doomed to obscurity" is the 
 single factor which has kept us all from our lifelong dreams of being
 showcased on geraldo & paraded all over the evening news like an expensive
 escort at a hollywood movie premiere.  we were quite troubled.

        you see, in psychology, there's a little something called "the 
 labelling theory" which basically states that if you, or a group of people,
 for that matter, label someone frequently enough, no matter what that
 persons true intentions are, that someone is bound to succumb to the 
 pressures of society & eventually become what he or she has been labelled.

        not following me here?  let me give you an example :

        a group of boys are eating lunch at school in their usually sloppy
 manner.  a teacher walks by the boys & falls witness to their disgusting
 ritual.

        jokingly, the teacher comments, "you guys are a bunch of animals, for
 christ sakes!" & proceeds to walk away.

        the boys stop eating for a second to look around the table at each 
 other & say, "hey, you know, he's right .. we ARE a bunch of animals." &
 then continue to pile food & anything in it's path into their mouths.

        .. it's a self-fulfilling prophecy, more or less.

        after the inner circle had come this this painful realization, we saw
 that our ironic joke would backfire in our face & we would most certainly be
 doomed to obscurity.

        thus, in light of the recent developments, it was proposed that dto
 would have a dramatic name change.  several suitable 'zine names were tossed
 around for us to use, some of which were :

        "we will get laid", "guys with big penises", "smart people with lots
 of money & really nice shoes", "guys who have loose girlfriends with really
 big titties", or, "writers who barely have enough time to write really good
 articles between wild orgies" ..

        then, in the midst of this brainstorming, someone alluded to another
 psychological theory called the 'alternative' theory, the one which created
 fame for 'grunge' music.  this theory, in essence, states that when
 something attempts to be different & out of the ordinary, it stands out to
 a great degree & those that want to be socially 'different' gobble it up
 like candy.  sort of like the bisexual movement.

        it was certainly a relevant point to bring up.  now the only problem
 was that we had two conflicting theories.  after weeks of heavy debate, we
 discovered that shadow tao had forgotten that he had gotten a
 psychological-theory-scale last year for christmas & kept it in his closet.
 using his scale, we discovered that in actuality, the 'alternative' theory
 had more precedence in the human mind that the 'labelling' theory.

        phew!@

        however, just to be on the safe side, we decided to declare the
 public our appropriate direction for what we want to accomplish with dto
 in some form, thus the manifesto was created & written by the dto inner
 circle.

        unfortunately, the day after the manifesto was written it was pointed
 out that in actuality, dto is _already_ famous.  people just haven't
 realized it yet!@  guh.

        sheesh, this editorial was long as all heck.  well, enjoy this
 cooley-cool issue, gang.  it's fully of all kinds of the brooding angst,
 vampires, & gothic cyberpunk that you've come to expect from us.

        sm00ches!@

                                     ____
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 ----------------------------- |     |  |     | -----------------------------
 ----------------------------- |  |  |  |  |  | -----------------------------
                               |  |  |  |  |  |
   doomed to obscurity seven   |  |  |  |  |  |   & all contents therein ..
                               |  |  |  |  |  |
 ----------------------------- |  |  |  |  |  | -----------------------------
 ----------------------------- |_____|  |_____| -----------------------------
                                     |___ _

  1 - i win a cookie
        by - mogel
  2 - doomed to obscurity seven & all contents therein ..
        by - mogel
  3 - the dto manifesto
        by - the dto inner circle
  4 - a story
        by - james hetfield
  5 - press your lips against my buttock, suction practicing person!
        by - eerie
  6 - the crane & the crow
        by - shadow tao
  7 - <insert penis>
        by - fake scorpion
  8 - it's 9:15am, do you know if your brain works?
        by - kojak
  9 - the simmons family saga, continued
        by - sweeney erect
 10 - regrets
        by - murmur
 11 - the day the geek snapped
        by - creed
 12 - to forgive & regret
        by - styx
 13 - the chaos theory ; friday, july 15
        by - eerie
 14 - my name is mud
        by - murmur
 15 - hapless in the hands of some kind of god
        by - crank
 16 - parsley - condiments ; chapter 173
        by - murmur
 17 - demons breed at computer city
        by - crank

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 "the dto manifesto"
 by - the inner circle

        WE, AS A FREE-THINKING & ABLE-BODIED COLLECTION OF DISTINCT &
 RATIONAL INDIVIDUALS, EMBODYING THE UNIVERSAL KNOWLEDGE AS BRANDISHED UNDER
 THE TITLE OF ITS MOST RECENT INCARNATION, OUR EVERLASTING SYMBOL OF
 APOCALYPTIC IRONY 'DOOMED TO OBSCURITY', HEREBY FORMALLY DECLARE THAT FROM
 THIS MOMENT FORWARD THE CHARTER BY WHICH WE SHALL PROGRESSIVELY &
 SYSTEMATICALLY SEEK TO SUBDUE, ASSIMILATE, & FOREVER DOMINATE GLOBAL
 SOCIETY, SHALL BE IN EFFECT, & SHALL NOT CEASE TO BE IN EFFECT,
 NOTWITHSTANDING AN OFFICIAL DECLARATION TO THE CONTRARY BY SAID UNIFIED
 ORGANIZATION OF SAID DISTINCT & RATIONAL INDIVIDUALS.

        THE TIME IS NOW!@

        FORGED IN ANGST - DOOMED TO OBSCURITY & ITS UNIQUE & SOCIALLY VARIED
 GATHERING OF ENERGETIC FORCES FROM ACROSS THE WORLD AROSE FROM THE
 BLISTERING, SCORNING FIRES OF MEDIOCRITY & SELF-INDULGENCE.  THE LOW, THE
 HIGH, THE PSYCHOLOGICALLY IMBALANCED, & THOSE INBETWEEN HAVE RAISED THE
 BANNER OF DOOMED TO OBSCURITY, EMBRACED BY ITS COLD & SAUCY TRUTH!

        DTO, A GRIM, RIGID, PENSIVE YET RANDOM SAVIOR OF THE OPPRESSED
 MASSES, WILL DELIVER *YOU* FROM THE STAGNATION OF THE COMMERCIAL MAGAZINE 
 & IMPERIALIST TRITE-MONGERS THAT HAVE ALREADY STAKED THEIR CLAIMS IN THE
 DEPTHS OF OUR VERY SUGGESTIVE NEURONS!  THEY THAT RUN RAMPANT UPON OUR
 TROUBLED AGE OF BLATANT PHLEM-INDUCTIVE MIND CONTROL, UNCHECKED BY A
 RESERVED & ALTOGETHER TEPID 'ZINE BOURGEOISIE, WILL FEEL THE HARD JUSTICE OF
 THE MASSES, CLUTCHING FOR THE TRUTH THAT HAUNTS THEM!@

        WE WILL DELIVER YOU FROM THE ESTABLISHMENT THAT CONSPIRES TO INUNDATE
 YOUR LIFE WITH ITS CONVOLUTED PROPAGANDA & PSEUDO-IDEALISMS!

        WE WILL BRING YOU THE TRUTH!

        WE WILL BRING YOU THE LIGHT!

        WE WILL BRING YOU THE *WAY*!@#

        WE WILL MAKE OURSELVES OMNIPRESENT BY PUTTING A SUGGESTIVE
 STRANGLEHOLD ON THE FLACCID MORTAL MEDIA THAT CAN NOT BE OVERCOME.  BY THIS
 PROCESS OF ENHANCED ACTIVITY & THE SUBSEQUENT INABILITY OF THE WEAK-MINDED
 PIGEONS THAT HAVE BECOME ESTABLISHED IN THEIR COMFY ADJUSTABLE CHAIRS TO
 OVERCOME THE PARADIGM OF THE INTELLECTUAL ELITE, OVERWHELMING ATTENTION FROM
 STANDARD MIND-ENHANCING AGENTS OF CIVILIZATION WILL BE GRANTED TO WE, WE WHO
 SEEK THE ULTIMATE TRUTH THROUGH MEDITATION ON THE VERY ESSENCE OF HUMANITY,
 THE WORDS WITH WHICH WE EXPRESS OUR VERY THOUGHTS!

        .. & IT IS WITH THIS UNAVOIDABLE ATTENTION THAT WE SHALL UNLEASH THE
 TRUE BRILLIANCE OF THESE COLLECTIVE NEURAL IMPULSES OF FORMERLY STAGNATED
 POWER ; THEN, & ONLY THEN, AFTER THE ATTENTION HAS BEEN GARNISHED, SHALL
 THIS, THE FORMULA OF CONSECRATION, BE SPRUNG INTO ACTION :

                      THE DTO FORMULA (tm)

              MEDIA ATTENTION == FAME
                         FAME == GIRLS. err. no. MONEY.
                        MONEY == GIRLS (YEAH!@#)
                        GIRLS == SEX

        THUS, USING OUR FLAWLESS MATHEMATICAL FORMULA, YOU COME TO SEE :

                      !!! DTO == SEX !!!

        SEX FOR ALL!

        ONCE THIS GOAL IS ACHIEVED, ONCE THIS FINAL CONSUMMATION OF ALL THAT
 IS GOOD & PROPER HAS BECOME ETCHED INTO OUR MINDS AS THE LAW OF THE LAND,
 WITH THIS 'DOOMED TO OBSCURITY', THIS OUTFIT OF THE FREE & THE WILLING
 BEHIND THE UNIVERSAL TRUTH, SEX FOR ALL, MAY WE FINALLY REACH TRUE NIRVANA.

        SO, FREE-THINKING INDIVIDUALS OF THE WORLD, UNITE!

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 "a story"
 by - james hetfield

        i want to write a story.  a story of protagonists & antagonists &
 foils & conflicts & climaxes & resolutions.  i want to have a heroic hero,
 with strong strength & positic poise.  i want an antagonist so antagonistic
 he wreaks terror into the hearts of children far & wide.

        the hero would, of course, be me.  i would be the writer living in a
 grubby apartment that is trying to find a foothold in this world that sucks
 me dry of every emotion i have.  i would fight evil, fight society, & most
 importantly, fight myself - & in the end, i would triumph triumphantly.  i
 would have succeeded in my tasks, i would be known world-wide for my
 writing, i would get the girl, & i would be self-content.

        the villain would show up in many forms.  a gruesome opponent.  he
 would start as a person, a man who mocked me & destroyed me internally, but
 then the villain would grow to be more symbolic, to be society as a whole, a
 society that brings down the artist & only serves the business oriented.

        right when it seems like my demise, & i could not survive in this
 world any longer, i would find within myself the hidden insight that makes
 everything & everyone in this world make sense - & i would accept it &
 benefit from it.  i would go on to live a perfect life, a happily ever after
 life, a utopian ending.

        everyone would love this story.  they would say it is greatest
 written achievement of our time.  when it is made into an abc after school
 special, siskel & ebert would give it two thumbs up.  mel gibson would star
 as me & marlin brando would play the antagonist.  interviewers would
 interview me thirty years after the fact to try to understand where this
 great insight & magnificent piece of writing came from.  i would explain it
 to them, but not explain too much, for knowledge is a dangerous weapon in
 the hands of the ignorant.  i would continue to live the content & happy
 life i created for myself in the story, & finish my life being known as one
 of man's greatest humanitarians.

        shortly after i die, many other people would begin to understand my
 great achievement, & an entire literary genre would be started after me.
 post-modern-constructionism.  the great minds of the day would extensively
 study my work for hints of how to recreate the beauty & essence of the
 words.  when someone made a literary achievement of their own, they would be
 called a modern-day me.  in libraries there would be biographies on me right
 next to ones on t.s. eliot, william shakespeare, charles dickens & mark
 twain.

        i will survive in the hearts & minds of an entire generation.  or
 two.  or three.

        but then something will happen.  a lonely boy who has no path in life
 will find a tragic flaw in my most prized writing.  he will understand that
 there are no villains in life, there are no 'bad guys', simply people &
 their points of reference.  this fact will destroy my entire philosophy.
 the scope of all my work will become meaningless.  the only people who will
 ever read me again are college students enrolled in "writing of the latter
 middle suburban age, 1990-2010."  this class will only be available at
 college of mchenry county in illinois.  everyone will forget me.  i will be
 as significant in the scheme of things as j. alfred prufrock himself.  the
 new generation will befall into a culture that relies on nihilism to give
 them their lack of a path in life.  people will still learn, but knowledge
 will have no importance because of the hypocrisy & paradox of anything &
 everything & nothing.  life will, once again, be meaningless.

        in a few hundred years, an archaeologist will find one of my works in
 a time capsule, one of the few that will survive the holocaust.  they will
 note of my work that it "typifies american culture ; a culture derived from
 & maintained on the struggle to keep hope alive.  a culture disillusioned &
 removed from reality."  i will be one of the elite to be published in a book
 called "who's who in pre-holocaust writers."  everyone will find my work
 impossible to interpret, mainly because of the fact that the words were not
 created to be viewed by five eyes, only two.  even in translation my work
 will seem like gibber jabber.  no one will understand it.  then again, did
 anyone ever anyway?

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 "press your lips against my buttock, suction practicing person!"
 by - eerie

        fuck me!

        see, i said "fuck me!"  ain't that subversive?!@#

        i think it's a really grunge thing when you tell someone he/she 
 could fuck you.  like, raw like that, you go see john doe & say : "fuck me, 
 sucker!@"  it's a shame so many people have done it already.  y'know, 
 cobain & wife, vedder, reznor, corgan, that buncha whiners.  no one cares 
 about them anymore.  they've gotten big, they've gotten spoiled, & they've 
 been fucked.

        well if they asked for it, i don't see what they're complaining 
 about now ..

        hah!  fuck me!@  fuck me@#!  fuck me#!@^  see?  you don't even mind!@

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 "the crane & the crow"
 by - shadow tao

        he wandered down the street with no general purpose.  carefully, he
 felt each step along ; quietly surveying every motion of his stride.  he had
 no job for the moment.  he couldn't see his children.  he had no life.  he 
 felt nameless & alone.

        when beth had gotten custody of the kids, she had sworn to never let
 them near him again.  no reason, really.  she was angry at his luck in the
 settlement.

        the grey that blanketed the city had become darker, giving the glass
 of the buildings a swirling, liquid look.  he stepped onto a sidewalk that
 led into a small community park.  the trees guarded his way as he walked by,
 oblivious to the clouds.  the city was foreshadowed with the coming snow.

        the government would be the last place you would have to wonder about
 job security in the upper ranks.  the united frickin states.  how could the
 government just _shut down_?  that's not something that happens. 'FRANCE
 SHUT DOWN FOR RENOVATION'.  'CHINA TO CLOSE FOR TOURIST SEASON ; CITING
 PESTS'.  not something you see in the every day-to-day.  hmph.

        he strolled through a crossroad, into an area with a small stream &
 bridge.  the bridge seemed rather new & clean.  a quite pointless feature ;
 the stream was small enough to walk over.  he sat down & dangled his legs
 just above the trickle of water below.

        life seemed to be passing on without him.  a small leaf had slipped
 & tripped it's way downstream, quickly passing by him.  kind of symbolic.
 nothing really seemed important.  life was just .. *blah*.  a monk or a hare
 krishna walked by him on the path, stopping in a clearing near him.  out of
 reflex, he pulled his legs up from the side of the bridge.  there he sat,
 watching the monk go through his tai chi or meditation or whatever, with his
 legs crossed under him.  the movements were long & graceful, like a bird.
 was this the meaning?  just living?

        he had lost track of time & was staring blankly at the monk.  his
 life felt like a burden.  everything was just a pointless waste of time.

        a crow let out a grating caw.

        quiet descended on him.  light moved in a slow dance around the
 bridge.  it was almost peaceful enough to sleep.

        he felt a tingling in his back.  at first, he tried to ignore it, but
 it soon had absorbed his entire body.  he gasped at the sensation, not
 sure what else to do.  it kind of seemed as if he could feel everything in
 the universe; it felt as if he was embodied with life itself.  light
 surrounded his body, lifting him above the ground, carrying him along.  he
 felt as if nothing could touch him.  he was living through every being in
 the universe.  every planet, every asteroid ; they swam around in the
 darkness of the void like schools of fish.  he was limitless.  he was whole
 again.

        .. & then reality slammed into him like a truck.  he was still
 sitting on the bridge.  he was still in the park & out of breath.  the monk
 was now sitting in front of him, facing him in a somewhat more comfortable
 crosslegged position.

        "would you like some of my big mac?"

        "sure.  thank you."

        the monk handed him part of the sloppy sandwich.

        "thanks.  what a beautiful day."

        the churning grey clouds danced above them.

        "yes.  yes it is," the monk grinned.

        for the first time that day, dan felt a little hope for himself, &
 smiled & the bridge supported him.

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 "<insert penis>"
 by - fake scorpion

        on my travels to pick-up a veggie'n'stuff sub from the appropriately
 named subway fast-food store, jesus's face appeared on my dashboard.  it
 floated there for at least 10 seconds without saying anything of real
 importance.  he kept winking at me & mumbling, "hey baby."

        "jesus?  is that really you?  am i hallucinating?"

        "yes, it is me you pious penis.  do not travel to subway."

        these words of wisdom kind of pissed me off because i was looking
 forward to that lovely sub.  i muttered a "piss off," & instantly the face
 was gone.  i decided to follow the advice, just in case, so i drove to the
 gas-station, picked up a pepsi & some doritos & started back home.

        later that evening i found out that all of the customers at the
 subway that day had come down with a mutated e-coli bacteria.  they all died
 quickly after digesting the subs.  that sub sure would've been yum-yummy
 right now.

        jesus sucks.

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 "it's 9:15am, do you know if your brain works?"
 by - kojak
 
        little kids, running through a field with a big red kite on a string.
 one of them stops their running to think .. & think freely.  the child's
 mind wanders, wondering what it's like to be the kite.  to fly with the
 wind.  it's the imagination of that kid that's flying.

        why is it that when you get older, you lose your imagination?  is it
 because you've got experience?  why does experience make one jaded?

        there seems to be a golden rule in life that with age & experiences
 comes the inevitable erasure of imagination.  only a few great people have
 ever been able to continue their imaginations as they gain life-experience.
 those are the philosophers & inventors of the world.

        these men, no matter what happens to them as their life goes by,
 continue to dream.  i have yet to meet a man who has not lost his dreams,
 mostly due to a certain cynicism which can be found in his demeanor.

        why is it that you let your dreams die out?  is it because once
 you've lived in our world for a certain period of time you feel that your
 dreams are no longer attainable?  when you're a child, you let your mind
 soar.  you enjoy life - & yet, the cold, harsh realities of life are bound
 to kick in sometime.

        as it turns out, the men who do indeed let their imagination fly are
 more important to society than those who don't let their imaginations
 wander.  those who don't conform & enjoy their individualism end up being
 the ones whose thoughts amaze & influence us the most.  so who wouldn't want
 to keep their individualism?

        the temptation to become a member of society & to immerse yourself in
 its ways is great.  you don't want to strike out on your own, because, as
 ralph waldo emerson said, "for nonconformity, the world whips you with its
 displeasure".  why not become a member of the social class?  why not enjoy
 the benefits of being social?  at what cost must you do these things?  at
 the cost of your mental freedom.  generally, whenever you join a group of
 people, their mentality overtakes yours.  you're forced to think like they
 do, to believe what they believe, you're no longer given the option to think
 for yourself.

        to most people, there is no harm done in that.  it is the precious
 few that keep their freedom, that are willing to take the risks, that have
 forever changed our society.  it's the men who are children on the inside
 that forever inspire us to someday go back to our roots & be true to
 ourselves yet again.

 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------
 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------

 "the simmons family saga, continued"
 by - sweeney erect

        bob simmons suffered from a peculiar disorder.  nobody could even
 remember him.  he could talk to a man for hours, then five minutes later the
 man would be unable to recall what he had been doing for the past few hours.

        the disorder even extended to his parents.  they spent most of his
 childhood wishing they could have a son so they could name him bob after his
 rich, soon-to-be-deceased grandfather.  when bob turned sixteen, his mother
 was again with child.  they had a son & named him bob.  their doctor said
 his records indicated he has delivered another son about sixteen years ago
 & they had also named him bob.  they all laughed at the silly little
 secretary who misfiled the information.

        bob's brother turned out to be perfectly normal & his other brother,
 born a year later & named julian, although not normal, was at least
 memorable.

        eventually, bob moved out of the house & went away to college.
 nobody, of course, noticed him move out.  he had spent most of his life,
 after he got too big to sleep in his parents' room, sleeping on the couch.

        he had saved quite a lot of money & he managed to pay for his own
 education at a small state school.  there, his roommates were always under
 the impression they had private rooms.  in fact, at the end of his freshman
 year his roommate tried to take bob's stuff with him, assuming that since it
 was in his room & nobody else lived there it must be his.  only five minutes
 before, he & bob had finished talking.

        the next year, the real tragedy of bob's condition made itself known
 to him.  he met a girl named leesa & they fell in love.  every single day.

        you see, no matter how long they talked, leesa would never remember
 having met bob.  they cold make dates, but she would never remember them.
 each & every day, bob would make it a point to bump into leesa & they would
 talk for hours & she would fall in love & then a few minutes later she would
 go back to her room & complain to her roommate that she never met any decent
 guys.

        then leesa began to date other men.  by the end of the year she was
 set to marry one of them.  bob ran into her for the last time & she said,
 "oh my god, i love you.  why couldn't we have met sooner?"

        this was the last straw.  bob ran away screaming.

        bob lived out his life more or less alone all the time.  he couldn't
 hold a job, because his employers always forgot he worked for them & hired
 somebody else to fill the spot.  so bob lived pretty well, mugging people
 for a little of the money in their wallets.  not only did they not remember
 bob, they didn't remember getting mugged.  he could make almost a thousand
 dollars a day doing this, because he could do it to anybody, in broad
 daylight.

        as time went by, bob's political opinions became increasingly
 skewered.  since he couldn't vote (couldn't get a driver's licence or for
 that matter any id since the never remembered him long enough) his only
 means of shaping politics seemed to be assassinating the president.  he was
 very much aware he would have no problem getting away with it.  so he began
 to lay plans.

        before he acted on them, however, he died.  it happened to him the
 same day his land lady found a tenant for the "empty" room bob lived in.

        thus concludes the story of bob simmons.

 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------
 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------

 "regrets"
 by - murmur

        it's sort of fascinating that when you lead a very minimal life, &
 you do a minimal amount of things with your life, that the regrets you
 stockpile seem like nothing in comparison to what they seem like after you
 finally get up off your ass & step out into the world.  when you don't do
 anything, there's literally nothing to regret ; in other words, all you can
 regret is that you have nothing.  but when you start doing things, & you
 start making more & more decisions, suddenly there's more to regret.  it
 happened to me just like that.

        every day of my life i regret something.  some things more than
 others, of course.  i regret that i didn't go to see the grateful dead in
 chicago, what would be their final concert.  i regret that i never pursued
 anything serious with this particular girl.  i regret that i've waited a
 year & a half too patiently, hoping for my school to give me dial-ins to a
 unix shell account.  i sometimes regret i don't know my grandfather better.
 i sometimes regret i didn't & still don't spend enough time with my
 sister/mother/father/friend/cat/dog.

        i regret that i practically wasted away until the second semester of
 my senior year of high school, when, as odd as it may sound, i finally got
 my modem hooked up & i finally broke out of a shell of sorts.  i regret i
 never really had the balls to ask a girl out through my first 17 years on
 this dusty old mound of earth.  i regret sleeping in too late the other day.

        nobody wants to live in a world of regret.  at least, nobody who's
 got a proper chemical balance in their head.  but we all do.  we can't
 wallow in these regrets.  we've got to learn from them.

        as wacky & ridiculous as some of the things i do are, i'm still shy
 as hell around women.  it's a regret.  it's a continuous regret that merely
 keeps building up & building up on me.  i keep learning & getting a little
 bit better.  as it so happens, in those rare instances that i bust through
 my sheath of shyness, well, good things don't necessarily happen.  ooops.

        my dad called tonight.  it seems that an old classmate of mine, the
 girl i was practically infatuated with for four years, her father died
 yesterday or the day before or something.  i haven't talked to her for, oh,
 six months.  but i still feel obligated to send a card, write a letter, or
 something like that, to offer condolences.  i didn't know her father.  but
 the condolences are for her, not for me.

        there's a couple things that i can't quite help but think about.
 regrets & would-be regrets.  i regret that i was so shy, so outright absurd,
 for so long through high school.  if anything, to me she epitomizes myself
 at the very worst.  regret often surrounds death.  it comes from a lot of
 directions.  regret that i said this/did this/didn't say this/didn't do this
 to the dearly departed.  regret that i can't do more to express condolences.
 regret that i don't even understand the condolences i'm expressing.

        what if my father had died today?  would there be regrets?  of course
 there would be.  there'd be a thousand, & i'd play out every last one in my
 head.  i can't help but think of a couple of them right now, in light of my
 father calling to tell me an old friend's father has died.  it's a night to
 think back to some of those things i regret the most.  they're not the same
 things i regretted the most yesterday, or the day/week/year before.  some
 things i regret are dumb little things, like why wasn't i cheerier to that
 girl?  she was cute.  why didn't i remember to let the dog out?  he pissed
 all over the floor.  what the fuck was i doing when i was 16, sitting at
 home on my ass?

        i can rest assured every day that i'm not consumed by these regrets.
 in fact, i'm very far from it.  i've finally reached a turning point where
 i'm learning from these regrets, especially the big one, that i feel like i
 wasted so much time in high school doing nothing.  i'm servicing that regret
 now.  but it doesn't hurt me on a daily basis.  it's a reminder.  it's a
 reminder that now that i'm in college & enjoying what are supposed to be the
 best days of my lives, i can't keep regretting.  i can't regret what i did,
 i've got to strive to make this a better life for myself.

        it's not just a question of what if that were my father whose funeral
 is friday.  what if it were mine?  what if i'm in a car/diving/fence
 accident & become incapacitated for the rest of my life?  what regrets?  i
 can't be consumed by those regrets.  i've got to make my life the best it
 can be.  if that means refusing to work in food service ever again, so be
 it.  if that means telling off the asshole down the hall, so be it.  i can't
 keep regretting things, so i won't.  i refuse.

        that's the moral.  you can't keep regretting things.  to become
 swallowed with regret is to lose - & i'm winning.  i'm a winner.  i've got
 way too much to look forward to in my life, in my young life, to allow
 regret to stop me.  i'll say the same thing next year & i'll say the same
 thing the year after that.  our regrets help shape us, but to allow them to
 mold us into a state of self-pity is unacceptable.  it's not the life for
 me.  putting uncle tupelo into the cd player, sitting in front of the best
 purchase i ever made, & typing this reminder to myself, & then going
 downstairs & playing with silly putty for a half hour whilst i talk to my
 friends, that's the life for me.  you're welcome to join me.

 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------
 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------

 "the day the geek snapped"
 by - creed

        lucifer was just an average dude.  he was sort of a loser - he didn't
 have many friends, but inside he was just like you or me.  he didn't like
 being named lucifer.  it was weird, ya know?  he didn't want people thinking
 he was the devil or anything.  so people called him lou.  that's a pretty
 average name for an average guy.

        lou was a quiet fellow, but he had ideas.  lord, did he have ideas!
 every day in school, he would tell stories to his friends .. fantasies about
 how he wanted to live, how he could do it, et cetera.  every kid had some
 wild fantasies, but lou was MADE of them.  lou lived on his fantasies.  he
 fed on his fantasies.

        people worried about lou.  they thought : "what will happen when lou
 finds out he will never achieve his fantasies?"  "how will lou feel when his
 dreams don't come true?"  they could never happen.  lou's dreams were too
 extreme.  too radical.  but lou was a radical.

        one day in the school's morning meeting, lou got pissed.  he thought
 to himself : "damnit, nobody believes in my fantasies!"  "why don't they
 believe in my fantasies?!"  lou was pretty angry.  then, he just snapped.
 he realized where his dreams had taken him so far, & he spoke : "fuck man,
 i'm not going anywhere!"

        a few eyes started to point in lou's direction.  lou didn't like it
 when people stared at him.  lou was PISSED.  he stood & screamed :

        "HEY LOSERS!  YOU'RE ALL A BUNCH OF K0WS, YOU KNOW THAT?  YOU'RE
 GOING TO BE CHASING YOUR TAILS FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIVES & I DON'T GIVE A
 FUQ!  I'M A BELIEVER!  I'M GONNA DO WHAT I ALWAYS WANTED!  FUQ YEW!@#$@#"

        "what a weird kid," people whispered.  "he's just a moron.  he's
 nuts."

        lou did exactly what he wanted to do.  he lived out a fantasy, just
 like he had always known he would.  he built a grass hut in the woods, &
 lived there.  when he was tired, he slept in a bed of leaves.  when he was
 hungry, he stole from the school cafeteria.

        buck naked, like an animal, lou would run into the cafeteria, barge
 into the front of the line, & steal his food.  everyone knew lou needed to
 be stopped, but nobody ever did anything about him.  they were too afraid.
 they didn't want anything drastic to happen.  so the tradition went on.  lou
 stole his food.

        lou lived a happy life.  to the school, he became a legend.  lou,
 however, thought his life was pretty normal.  he didn't work, because he had
 his food, & he didn't need any luxury to work for.  he relaxed for all of
 his life.  he loved his life.  it was no fantasy.

 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------
 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------

 "to forgive & regret"
 by - styx

        i want to know why emotional pain physically hurts.  who was the
 complete asshole that mixed up the two?  i, personally, don't think it's
 very fair.  we should either have a broken-arm-hurt or a wow-i'm-sad hurt.
 not a wow-i'm-a-sad-broken-arm hurt.  i feel cheated on something, & i don't
 know what it is.

     example 1:  bill the fucker falls out of a tree & breaks his ankle.
                 bill shouts something because it hurt.  namely "fuck!$#"

     example 2:  bill the fucker falls for a girl & she breaks his heart.
                 bill shouts something because it hurt.  namely "fuck!$#"
 
        what's going on?
     
        maybe people could be more selective with our reactions to certain
 things.  i'm not even positive what i'm getting at here.  something is
 bugging me, but it's all mixed up.  okay, here :
 
     example 1:  julie the fifty-cent hooker is painting her nails in l.a. 
                 when the "big one" hits & her nail polish falls & shatters on
                 the floor.  "fuck!$#," she exclaims.

     example 2:  julie the fifty-cent hooker is painting her nails in l.a.
                 when she accidentally drops the nail polish which falls on
                 the floor & shatters.  "fuck!$#," she exclaims.
 
        so i'm not being clear.  i'm trying, i promise.

        okay.  so it's a girl thing.  i admit it.  read between the lines,
 man, it's all there.  the nail polish gave it away.

        what makes girls cheat so much?
 
 "sometimes they are insecure.  they feel the need to be wanted.  they aren't
  satisfied with their current relationship - their boyfriend is doing
  something _wrong_."

        what goes through their heads when they do it?
 
 "sometimes revenge.  it's their little secret - they're one step ahead of
  their boyfriend.  sometimes emotional fulfillment.  the empty spaces their
  boyfriend has not bothered to fill are now being tended to.  they feel
  whole."
 
        why doesn't the concept of morality & honesty affect them enough to
 prevent the cheating from happening?
 
 "the need to feel wanted & fulfilled is extremely strong.  when you feel
  worthless &/or lonely, things like morality & honesty don't play a large
  part in it at all.  don't look at it that way.  be sensitive - understand
  what they are going through."

        how come they usually don't tell their boyfriend?
 
 "fear of total rejection.  sometimes they really don't want to hurt their
  boyfriend at all.  it was something they needed to do.  what their
  boyfriend doesn't know can't hurt him.  they don't want to lose him, even
  if he doesn't fill in the gaps they need.  endangering the relationship is
  totally unacceptable."

        how can they continue with the relationship knowing that they have 
 completely betrayed their boyfriend & took advantage of his trust?

 "they block it out.  it didn't _really_ happen.  it wasn't real.  there was
  no emotional bond between her & the cheatee.  he didn't mean anything to
  her.  it was a temporary need."
 
        can
        you
        say
        bullshit?
 
        good.  now i will tell you why you just said "bullshit" & meant it.
 
        there is absolutely no excuse, no matter what the details are, for
 cheating on someone you have agreed to have an exclusive relationship with.  
 none at all.  no inner-child shit, no suppressed memory shit, no 
 feeling-the-need-to-be-wanted shit, nothing.
 
        there's this thing called self-control.  it's not that hard to do.
 the only reason anyone doesn't have self-control is because they don't
 _want_ it.  it's there for everyone to take part in.

        there is a point where you have to take responsibility for yourself
 & how you are.  there's nothing you can do about it.  whether your father
 beat you when you were little or your older brother always got the toy
 prizes in count chocula before you got to it & it really fucked you up later
 in life, it doesn't matter - it doesn't give you the right to make other
 people suffer for the things you've gone through.  it's called _dealing with
 it_.  i don't care what the circumstances are.  these freaks are all over
 the place & they make me sick.

        i have never met a girl that hasn't cheated on someone.  that's
 absolute fact.  i'm sure there are a lot of people that could say the same.
 they're not very remorseful & they never really "consider it cheating.  it
 was different.  it's oh-so-hard to explain."  so what's the deal?

        i have devised a plan & i am carrying it out beginning on valentine's
 day.  i have labelled it "operation overfuck".  from february 14th on, i am
 going to attract as many girls as i can, & i will do it constantly.  i am
 going to make every one of them have genuine feelings for me.  then, guess
 what?  i'm going to fuck them over.  they will call me several times a day
 crying.  they'll ask me why i did such horrible things to them, & you know
 what i will say?  i will say "be sensitive!  when i was little my mom cooked
 the cat & made me eat her & i don't know what to do.  i'm really confused
 right now.  i need my space."  they will buy self-help books & join therapy
 groups & wonder how i could do such a thing & i will be busy fucking over
 the next girl by then.  i'll send them polaroid pictures of my post-lovers
 giving me head.  it will be a continuous cycle until the whole female
 population comes crawling back to men realizing how much they've sucked, &
 i'll be the one to thank.
 
        watch it, women.  i'm coming.  hear me roar.

        p.s. - btw if their r n-e woman out their dat like funy cute guyz
               pleeze reply 2 me in mail!!!!????????...........thanx!!!!!

 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------
 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------

 "the chaos theory ; friday, july 15"
 by - eerie

        "you're going to wait quite a bit here."

        i haven't noticed her presence.  turned my head.

        "there's no more buses until, like, tomorrow."

        "oh, really?"

        it was one am, it was hot, it's been hot for the entire day & my body
 was still dying from this heat, even that late.  she has a very likeable
 smile, & ingenuously invited me to sleep over at her place.  i accepted.

        as we walked to her apartment i examined her.  saw her once or twice
 around here, maybe talked to her, said what i have no idea, it was colorless
 & odorless.  she wore an overall that was as black as her hair grazing her
 elbows, & a blue & white striped t-shirt.  her face was exceptionally
 pretty, a mix of purity & minor imperfections.  haven't said a word while we
 walked the 14st street.  she stopped in front of a building, took out her
 keys from her pockets, & opened the door.  we went up to the third floor, &
 finally ended up in her apartment - two rooms, sober & white, well-ordered.
 inside it was hot so she turned on the fan that was on the border of her
 sleeping room window.

        "would it be too much to ask to know exactly why you let me in here?"

        "no.  it's only because you need a place to sleep."

        her answer made me sound ridiculous.  she moved to the kitchen & i
 followed her.  she offered me something to drink.

        "the heat outside is infernal."

        i couldn't see what to answer to that assertion.  i don't exactly
 enjoy talking about the weather.  so i only supported with a "yes."

        "when you go for a walk you feel the death, you see it."

        "i know."

        she looked stunned by my answer for like two seconds, then, her
 serious tone back, she added :

        "i'm in peril of death.  everywhere i'm going i know he's waiting for
 me.  i can't cloister myself.  he'd find me."

        "who?"

        "i don't know.  i see him often, outside."

        she didn't look panicked.  those words would have logically been 
 spoken by an hysterical mouth.  not now.  like she was conscious of a
 reality she would never run away from, because it's a vital part of her.

        "i don't know who he is.  but i know he wants to rape me, then kill
 me."

        i fixed her with an inquisitive look.

        "you think i'm a fool, right?"

        "i don't think so."

        "astonishing."

        her voice became timid.

        "i'd understand if you thought i'm a fool.  but i swear - "

        didn't though she was a fool or anything, but didn't want to go
 through the "you're no fool, girlie" type of conversation.  it wasn't the right
 moment, & anyway, i knew she wasn't a fool.

        "i feel more & more alone."

        i looked at the table, desperately seeking for something to say.

        "i could answer something here, but it would be especially unuseful,
 in my honest opinion."

        "don't say anything."

        "i could, like, try to bring your aggressor back to reason."

        "why would you do that?"

        the cruelty of her question left me puzzled.  after all, i was here
 just for a night, & then she'd disappear from my life.  she smiled.

        "oh well, forget it."

        "yes.  we'll talk about this later."

        "if you want so .. though, I'm surprised you believe me."

        "why?  you lied?"

        "i don't know exactly."

        she looked desolated for a moment, then repeated her sentence.
 insisted more.

        "forget it."

        i smiled at her, & she had a tiny laugh.

        "the bed is right here, if you wanna sleep.  'cause i am asleep."

        "all right."

        i followed her to her room.  she sat on her bed & removed her
 sandals.  so did i with my shoes on my side of the mattress.  i unclothed
 myself, so did she, after she turned off the light & drew the curtains,
 keeping only her underwear.  she laid herself down on the side, half-covered
 by her blanket because of the heat, then i lied down too, naked, on my back,
 appreciating the draught coming from the ventilator.  i could only ask
 myself how that unreal an adventure could happen to me, & the sexual desire
 of her pretty breasts, medium & firm, would make me feel was reaching
 exponential values for they were conjugate with her paranoid state.

        "hug me."

        obeyed to her little panicked voice.  while she was inside my arms,
 her face on my shoulder, i felt one of her tears running on my skin.  i
 hugged her more.  she seemed more calm, closed her eyes & felt asleep a few
 minutes after.  i stayed awake for half an hour, trying to analyse her case
 with some set-back.  she wasn't stupid, she seemed very intelligent indeed.
 the erection i had since all that time, & which she may have tacitly
 noticed, subsided, let me calmed, & i sank into slumber.

 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------
 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------

 "my name is mud"
 by - murmur

 you are in hell.  satan is here.  you have a cow.  there are no exists.

 > throw cow at satan

 you throw the cow at satan.
 satan is angry & rams you up the ass with his pitchfork.
 you are in hell.  satan is here.  there are no exits.

 > drink pepsi

 there is no pepsi in hell.
 satan laughs at you.
 you are in hell.  satan is here.  there are no exits.

 > go west

 there is no pepsi in hell.
 satan laughs at you.
 you are in hell.  satan is here.  there are no exits.

 > limbo

 satan is angry & rams you up the ass with his pitchfork.
 you are in hell.  satan is here.  there are no exits.

 > look satan

 satan is big & red & has horns & a tail.  there is a knee in his mouth.
 you are in hell.  satan is here, chewing on a knee.  there are no exits.

 > take knee

 you steal the knee from satan's mouth.
 satan laughs at you.
 satan is angry & sets you on fire.
 you are in hell.  you are on fire.  satan is here.  you have a knee.
 there are no exits.

 > throw knee at satan

 you throw the knee at satan.
 satan laughs at you.
 satan is angry & rips your arms off & eats them.
 you are in hell.  you are on fire & have no arms.  there are no exits.

 > die

 you attempt to die, but you are already dead.
 satan laughs at you.
 you are in hell.  you are on fire & have no arms.  there are no exits.

 > xyzzy

 nothing happens.
 satan laughs at you.
 you are in hell.  you are on fire & have no arms.  there are no exits.

 > beckon jesus

 you beckon jesus.  jesus arrives.  jesus laughs at you & leaves.
 satan laughs at you.
 you are in hell.  you are on fire & have no arms.  there are no exits.

 > quit

 you quit the game.
 you are in your room.  in front of you is a 133 mhz pentium with a 1.6 gb
 hard drive.  you are a warez courier.  rattle is here.  you can exit west.

 > courier

 j00 l4m4h!
 you are in your room.  you are on fire & have no arms.  you are a warez
 courier.  you can exit west.
 you're feeling hungry.

 > /j #oldwarez

 j00 l4m4h!
 jesus laughs at you.
 satan laughs at you.
 you are an idiot.  you can exit west.

 > go west

 you are in las vegas, being raped by a large samoan man.  you are on fire &
 have no arms.

 > xyzzy

 nothing happens.
 jesus laughs at you.
 satan laughs at you.
 nixon laughs at you.
 you are in las vegas, being raped by two large samoan men.  you are on fire
 & have no arms.

 > quit

 nothing happens.
 i laugh at you.
 jesus laughs at you.
 satan laughs at you.
 nixon laughs at you.
 kurdt laughs at you.
 you are in las vegas, lying in a heap.  you have no arms.  there is one
 exit, but you are two weak to reach it.

 > fnord

 THE PRETTY SCREWDRIVER STEALS THE FIREPLACE & TAKES IT TO 1600 PENNSYLVANIA
 AVENUE.

 ***    unrecoverable error 14    ***
 ***      d00dl3b0y detected      ***
 ***  self-destruct mode engaged  ***
 ***   kill yourself now or die   ***

 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------
 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------

 "hapless in the hands of some kind of god"
 by - crank

        it's dark in her room.  the only sounds to be heard are her gentle
 sobs & the bubbling of the fishtank.  in a way, they're the same ; the
 filter cleansing the water just as her tears try to cleanse away the pain
 she feels.  maybe her filter is broken.

        midnight has come & gone.  she may be the only person left alive in
 the entire world, there is such silence.  blotting her eyes under her
 glasses, she again looks to the screen.  the words she wrote so long ago
 shine forth with a brilliance she has since lost amid the confusion &
 salacious everyday rantings of those with whom she comes in contact.  she
 reads.

    .. me, it is wonderful, it's all so flawless, i wrap my arms
    tighter around him as well and can feel his heartbeat, its
    quickening pace matching that of his breathing, i believe
    my heart is beating in sync with his, i like that.  i feel
    closer to him than i have ever felt to anyone before and it
    is perfect, pure, i never want this to end, just let it go
    on forever, please, i would give anything, just to have him
    always.  all my barriers, those i set up to protect me, have
    fallen.  there is no need for them.  i can be me.  alone
    with him, i can be me.

        her face breaks again as she stifles a sob.  it's so vivid, still so
 clear in her mind.  after everything she's been through & all she has tried,
 she cannot forget every nuance of the setting, every degree of emotion she
 felt during the time.  it rings true & hot in her mind, but it's smirking at
 her, threatening to never leave.

        she is afraid.  what will come of this?  is she here?

        shaking & crying, she switches windows on her computer & dials a
 number with her modem.  maybe she can talk, let some of it out.

        CONNECT 14400/ARQ/V32/LAPM/V42BIS
        ansi detected.
        **EMSI_IRQ8E08
        **EMSI_IRQ8E08

        patiently she gives the system the pertinent information & chat pages
 her friend upon login.  no one answers.  not surprising, considering the
 hour.  she types 'mail' & writes to him.  he'll be there for her when he
 wakes up.  he'll reply & his reply will help her.

        struggling with words, she types through her tears & tries to the
 best of her ability to tell him what she feels.  it hurts.  this is the
 essence of pain, the core.  sometimes she denies it, but still she can feel.
    
    god he's so perfect  youc an't even jus tlook at him tos ee 
    that he;s everything delightful he;s everythign i need is 
    that what's wrong wtih me..if he's everything i need, 
    notjing left, that's it....then i have nothing. empty hollow 
    lishia nothing girl empty and the shell of whats left is 
    tainted with the touch of others.....

        she knows she has to stop.  it can't continue like this.  every time
 she allows herself to fall into this, it only digs her deeper, feeling more
 pain & finding less salvation.  make it stop.  "it can't." - it will.  it
 will?

    she can feel th ehair on his body the light soft downy blond 
    hairs i can feel them too with her hands they're behind me 
    on my bed it's hers too but hers is in artificial lamp light 
    while mine resides in darkness i cant turn aroudn it it''ll 
    fuckeverythingupno   SHCCCEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

        what's happening to her?  tears pour down her cheeks but they're not
 the cleansing tears she thought they once were, that they should be.  things
 are not as they should be.

        she runs a hand through her tangled hair.  the outside is clean, but
 the inside is so dirty, so used, misused.  what is the thrill?  what did he
 get from becoming so close to her & then running away, laughing?  why did
 he?  did he have a choice?

        "it's not his fault.  it's mine," she thinks to herself.  she
 believes in her lunacies.

    this is so much more than sexual nothing can be like this 
    for me ever again i cant it cant be it jsut doesn't work 
    like that twice in someones life it s not right ow tears 
    stream down my fcace hes gone hes lost iwill neverseehimagain
    its not FAIRfairfair i wnat him back hes mine he gave himself
    to me and now he cant take it back he doesnt belong to him
    nymore

    he is scared like me scaredcasacred
    sacred
    he is sacred

    i still love him

        stopping briefly, she reaches over for another tissue.  the reptile
 heat lamp next to her casts a diffused pink light towards her.  an early
 morning glow is beginning outside her windows.  the monitor upon which she
 types is eerily bright.  there is too much light in the room & it doesn't
 match her mood anymore.  she strives for darkness.  in darkness she can feel
 almost normal, almost how she should.

        although she's sitting before her computer, her eyes have a far-off
 look, a distance to them that usually scares others, but she is alone
 tonight.  no one will leap to her rescue & save her if she falls .. or if
 she jumps.  she isn't looking through her eyes anymore.

    god......how can i let him do this to me ..hes more than me..
    theres got to be a reason somewhere but no one will tell me 
    im not iimportant enough to kow i cant it's classified onlu 
    to peoplewho arehnt fucked up wrong broken bent turned around
    msed up oh god i amlost turned aroudn

        looks over her words.  tried to type 'i almost'.  why did she
 type 'i am lost'?  curious.  shakes it off.  continues.

    they're right behind me laying on my bed i cna't turn around 
    it'll shatter everything oh god..dontlook they can't see me 
    the room is lit for them but it's dark for me lights out 
    darkness click she's on top of him thighs pressed t o thighs 
    its' not fair why can i remember this so well it cant god. ohh

    she bit his neck

        her stomach is tied up in knots from the rush of emotions she's been
 experiencing coupled with her last meal being some twelve hours previous.
 her knees hurt from being bent in the same position for so long & her back
 is weary from lack of movement, but the physical discomfort is barely
 noticeable when compared to what's happening inside her heart & her brain.
 she blots her tears with the balled-up tissue in her fist.

    shee..why can she feel it again but i cannot except through 
    her...i want him back as mine howhe was suppsed to be, mine 
    mememe he loved me said 'if i told you i loved you, would 
    you know exactly what i meant' and i did yes i know whats 
    wrong what s happening to you i know and so i say yes and it 
    stops ends there i knew but did i

    what does it mean

        what does it mean?  she stops to consider, to try to pull some true
 meaning from the words she types, reasons for his dismissal of her, why he
 could know what would happen yet condone it regardless.  this is not the
 same person she spoke with through so many long nights.  this can't be the
 same man with whom she cried.  the person he is now wouldn't allow himself
 to feel these things.  maybe that was the problem.

        maybe he was afraid of being left again.  is that why he left first?
 did she get too close?  she didn't intrude, she made sure of it.  she only
 drew closer when he asked her to do so.  then why did he write that song so
 many days later?  "i let her get too close .. don't let anyone get that
 close .. "

        she turns back to the computer & feeds the cursor.  her hands are
 shaking.  she inhales deeply.  maybe she's the one who changed.  maybe she
 changed him.

    he whisperd something to her an she shuddered on the bed 
    behind me i felt the shudder i heard his hot breath but i 
    coudn't hear what he said this time i know what it was 
    though i knwo hwat he said that made her shudder on the bed 
    behind me

        why must it be like this?  what has she done to deserve such a
 terrific fate as this?  there are so many unanswered questions.  does he
 have the answer?  it doesn't much matter as he wouldn't tell her.  not now.
 would he ever have?  she wonders just how cruel he can be.  does he like to
 do this?

        surely if there's a person it must be you she thinks & he hears her
 imbecilic musings.  he was her person.  he knew everything without being
 told.  she had let him in & he hadn't done so much as muss her hair until
 now.  there was no warning, maybe that was the most horrific part of it all.
 there should have been signs, something to tell her he was not who he
 seemed.  he knew her so well.

    what does it mean

        indeed.  is this merely a test of her recovery abilities?  who sent
 him?  who told him what to do ; who is his programmer?  will she continue
 from here?  what _does_ it mean?  is he a symbol for the rest of the world's
 feelings towards her?  does he even exist?  does she?  does anyone?

        are we all just a dream sequence?

    softlips smallteeth skinsilk sacred touch flesh feel love 
    adore worship feel touch slide move stretch feel sighcontent 
    feel lookatgodhesgorgeous perfect sobeautiful

        a final tear leaves a damp trail as it slides down her face.  she is
 finished crying for tonight.  her bed awaits.

    shes thining of something ver private she  she needs him to 
    feel this
              feel

    they're ogne

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 "parsley - condiments ; chapter 173"
 by - murmur

        it is in these hills that they dig, far from the maddening stork.
 but do the concern themselves?  no, for the bread has been made filling with
 much iron.  art thou stubborn?  nay, cries the tin foil, neigh cries the
 punter - & why shouldn't they?  this is the new republic, the dawning of an
 age where skepticism is as much of a crime as murder.  but the worst crime
 is pepsi, a foul substance.  do they care?  not here, for it is in these
 hills that they investigate the remains, the remains of an afterlife that
 has not yet happened, but an afterlife that will become fluffy in due time.
 yes, due time, it's all that matters to frank.  frank digs for the truth, a
 truth he will one day obtain.  or will he?  will he eat his steak, or treat
 it like the garnish it is?  perhaps not.  perhaps that *is* the secret.
 perhaps he has managed to succumb to the demands of his tormentors, his
 friends, & his lovers - & they're all his lovers, for, they all love.
 potted meat, potted meat, wherefore art thou potted meat?  frank, he was
 rushed by the rattle, but he fights on, he fights for freedom & triumph.  he
 will never succeed, but he is destined not to fail.  destiny.

        moral :  i've gotta rhumba, give me that rhubarb.

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 "demons breed at computer city"
 by - crank

 "three hundred forty meg hard drive," it whispers.
  you know nothing of my pain!
  that's hardly anything!  
  you'll never be complete!
  you are worth nothing!
 "three year warranty," it tells.
  how could you let this continue?
  there are no warranties on this!
  you cannot warrant my love!
  you cannot guarantee my sanctity!
 "simple home installation." it screams at me!

 .. & with one piercing cry into the night, i die.

                                     ____
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 ----------------------------- |  |  |  |  |  | -----------------------------
 ----------------------------- |  |  |  |  |  | -----------------------------
                               |  |  |  |  |  |
                               |  |  |  |  |  |                    
                               |_____|  |_____|
                                     |___ _

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         doomed to obscurity, p.o. box 1943, philadelphia, pa 19103
  call that stupid place - doomed to obscurity's bbs system - 215-985-0462
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  (c) copyright 1996 doomed to obscurity productions - all rights reserved.

       "better living through sheer idiocy & a whole lot of free time."

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