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t h e n e o - c o m i n t e r n e l e c t r o n i c m a g z i n e
I n s t a l l m e n t N u m b e r 1 7 1
We Are the New International
September 16th, 2001
Editor: BMC
Writers:
Kim
BMC
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;P Featured in this installment .b
$ $
$ Poison - Kim $
$ Dear Rahula - BMC $
`q p'
`nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn'
EDITOR'S NOTE
(please do not read the following)
Once again I find myself having the opportunity to ruin another
issue of the N-Com with some of my patented "witty," "off-the-cuff," and
"not funny or interesting" comments. And, to tell the truth, it feels
wonderful. In this universe of fleeting time, we are told by the master
Buddha to understand that time is transient and that there is nothing we
can do to alter the fact that the things we love today will be eventually
be gone. Friendships, family, life, all things of the world are
temporary, and as much as we love them, we should learn to accept that
they won't last forever.
The Neo-Comintern filenames will only facilitate the production of
another 728 issues. There's no place to go from issue 999. I mean, if
we called it ncom1000.txt, it would be listed between ncom100.txt and
ncom101.txt. So what to do about that? The N-Com, I'm afraid to say,
will not last forever. I'm sorry.
However, there is a bright side. At our current rate of one issue
per week, we'll be going for another 14 years. My god, we'll be so old!
So old and feeble... me, an old man of 38. What an entertaining
thought... or not?
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;P POISON .b
`q by Kim p'
`nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn'
When I was trying not to be pregnant, I made use of the following organic
poisons: Skullcap, Valerian, Tansy & Slippery Elm, Pennyroyal, Juniper,
Sage, Thuja, Goldenseal, and Wormwood. They are all purported to have
emmenagogic or abortifacient properties. None of them worked as
advertised, so I tried smoking lots and lots of weed but that didn't work
either, in fact it just made the morning sickness worse. So much for
faith healing. So I paid a visit to Dr. Morgenthaler's famous clinic
somewhere on the twisty windy streets of Winnipeg (forgive my lack of
neighborhoodal precision, I was woozy).
I was surprised because the clinic was an old house, an old Victorian
house, not the modernity I'd expected. It was painted blue. I had to
ring the doorbell, present identification, fill out a form. The lady
behind the desk had a huge pile of paperwork. On the walls were hundreds
of cards and drawings that I presume were sent from happy patients. Then
they whisked me upstairs to the waiting room, which was papered in broad
matronly florals, and had really comfortable reclining chairs. A
counselor whose obligation was to inform me that I had other options
talked at me for a while.
Then they laid me down on a clean white table, and let me suck back as
much nitrous oxide as I could bear. The room had a southern exposure,
the sunlight pushed in through the slats of the blinds, so they didn't
bother with crappy fluorescent lighting, but they did have surgery
lights. The doctor was very tall, and male. Several nurses attended.
They were all very quiet and nice and gentle as they poked at me. Above
my head, thumbtacked to the ceiling, was that famous poster of the big
trees in Carmannah. That was really beautiful and I have loved that
photo more than anything ever since that day.
I was a bit worried about the details, but the nurse (maybe she was an
anaesthesiologist, it was she who worked the NO2)(she had blonde hair and
nice makeup) wouldn't let me obsess about it, she held my hand and
glossed things over as they happened. She had a warm hand. When it was
over she helped me put a humongous pad into my panties, and she
admonished me for buying new panties for the occasion. She helped me
shuffle back out to the waiting room, where I lay in a reclined chair
until I didn't feel like barfing, then someone brought me cookies and
apple juice.
My insides felt weirdly numb from the anaesthetic. I felt supremely
lightened, and my guts were a perfect hollow. I laid there for quite a
while, maybe I even slept for a while. At any rate, my eyes opened and
closed a lot, their preference was to be closed. The light in that room
was from the North, it was very relaxing. Soon after, I went home.
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;P Dear Rahula .b
`q by BMC p'
`nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn'
Dear Rahula,
You are my cat and you don't understand anything I say, so I thought I'd
write it out so you could read it at your leisure. First of all, I have
a difficult time understanding exactly what you are. You are not a human
being, you have no characteristics similar to those of a human being, you
have no ambitions, and, well, what are you? You like to climb in boxes
and sit in my closet. You don't like the smell of alcohol and you have
sharp teeth that you like to use to eat meat with (I don't eat meat by
the way, but I don't blame you for doing it because I heard that cats
need to eat meat if they are to live).
Now back to this question of what you are. I like to think that you are
a monster of some sort, and I have been informed that I have made this
comment so many times that it is becoming extremely annoying to the human
who co-owns you (I believe you refer to her as "WAAAAAAAAAAAA!",
coincidentally the same name you've given to me). I am amazed by you.
Every time I see you I wonder what you are and why you live amongst human
beings.
There is this other strange notion, and it is that I own you and you are
my property. I don't feel good about this because I know you want to be
free. You don't want to be confined in the house or tethered in the back
yard. You want to run free forever, but it is my sorrow that you are too
little and vulnerable and the city isn't designed to facilitate the
safety of one such as you. Although I love you and am completely charmed
by you at all times when you are not attempting to destroy my possessions
or crawl in my backpack, I know that you would be happier in a world that
allowed you freedom. And truly, I would be happier in a freer world too.
I guess it is something that neither of us can have. I'm sorry to tell
you that. But don't hate me - I will treat you as well as I can, and I
hope that you can be satisfied enough to consider your life relatively
happy, if you are capable of such a concept.
Love,
Me
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___________________________________________________
|THE COMINTERN IS AVAILIABLE ON THE FOLLOWING BBS'S |
|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~|
| TWILIGHT ZONE (905) 432-7667 |
| BRING ON THE NIGHT (306) 373-4218 |
| CLUB PARADISE (306) 978-2542 |
| THE GATEWAY THROUGH TIME (306) 373-9778 |
|___________________________________________________|
| Website at: http://members.home.com/comintern |
| Questions? Comments? Submissions? |
| Email BMC at: thebmc@home.com |
|___________________________________________________|
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Copyright 2001 by The Neo-Comintern #171-09/30/01
All content is property of The Neo-Comintern.
You may redistribute this document, although no fee can be charged and the
content must not be altered or modified in any way. Unauthorized use of any
part of this document is prohibited. All rights reserved. Made in Canada.