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"""""""
Slinky E'Zine, Volume 1, Issue 4 (C) 1996 by Slinky Productions,
all rights reserved. Copyrights to stories, articles, and
illustrations are the property of their creators. The contents of
this publication may not be reproduced in whole or in part
without consent of the copyright owner.

+--- ----------- - -------------------------- - - ----------+
(1) Belial's Editorial

SLINKY + JONAS = FAILURE

Now wasn't that simple. I've been beating my head against a wall for
the last week trying to say that! I know I said in the last issue of
Slinky that it was going to happen, but, in the end, things fell through.
Don't worry about why things fell through, it doesn't matter. Either way,
here I am, back in the driver's seat of Slinky with Cerkit next to me in
the passenger's seat and we're jamming to Guns 'N' Roses!

+----- - --+

RUSSIAN LADIES want to meet you!

For a free color brochure, mail:

European Connections, Inc.
Dept. 202 - P.O. Box 888851
Atlanta, GA 30356

Or call:

(770) 458/0909

Meet chicks! Get sex from commies!

+----- - --+

We still don't have a WWW page, but that's my fault. We don't have
any FTP sites either and again, that's my fault.

SEND ME EMAIL!

Because I have a job now, I can, once again, afford to pay for my very
own internet account. (I work at a place called Michaels. Visit their
WWW page at: http://www.michaels.com.)

Please direct any feedback, questions, and/or comments to us at:

B3LIAL@CYBERCOMM.NET

Also, if you would like to get on my Slinky mailing list, please send
me a message requesting that I add you.

+----- - --+

Gorgeous Asian Women Desire American Men!

For free details and color photo brochure, mail:

P.I.C., Box 461873-RF
L.A., CA 90046

Or phone/fax:

(213) 650/1994

SEX FOR ALL IRC MODEM GEEKS!

+----- - --+

Well, that's about it for news. I hope you enjoy this issue, I think
that you'll see a definate change in Slinky from past issues. If you have
any questions or feedback, please get in touch with us.

-- Belial

+--- ----------- - -------------------------- - - ----------+
Slinky E'Zine, Volume 1, Issue 4 May 20, 1996

Table of Contents:

(1) Belial's Editorial
(2) "Intellect vs. Introspect" by Jestapher
(3) "Shadow Conversing" by Cerkit
(4) "Did You Love Her?" by Belial
(5) "Too Convulsed to Care" by Cerkit
(6) "What Time is it?" by Cerkit

+--- ----------- - -------------------------- - - ----------+
(2) "Intellect vs. Introspect" by Jestapher

Thought. It can consume unlike anything we know. It can roll in
thicker than fog. Surrounding. Encompassing. Devouring.

When silence dominates, thought roams, and I find myself transfixed.
Questioning that which is. Often times, thought will reach so deep, I
begin to question the very questions I pose. I begin to question the
thoughts I think. (Thinking of the thoughts I question, I question the
very questions I think.) Uncertainty reigns in the mind of I, the
supposed individual.

It is possible that these thoughts are the product of a juvenile mind
that is still forming and is unable to comprehend. Perhaps that is why I
feel I will never comprehend the greater questions in life such as life
itself. I feel it is not realistic to understand life while one lives it.
Is this a valid, well thought out deduction, or is it my way of pouting?
Am I a thinker or a child losing a game who, rather than lose, decides to
sit down, cross his arms, put a sneer on his face and say "this game
sucks! I'm not playing anymore!"? Because I don't have the capacity for
understanding, I take the apathetic route and say it is impossible?

Do I really know anything of the 'philosophical' shit I spout? As
time goes on, maybe I will become more knowledgable and things will make
sense. But what if they don't? What if reality is what I think now?
Living in the present generates the frustration of realizing that I will
never know the future until it is gone. So only time will tell the
direction which my thoughts will travel.

Do all 'great thinkers' feel this way? Why does that matter anyway?
Who are these 'great thinkers'? What if they are wrong? 'Great thinkers'
used to think the world was flat. If you travel too far, you will fall
off the edge. What if they never questioned their questions? Maybe that
is why their conclusions are snickered at rather than revered.

Could it be that I am avoiding truth and reality for the benefit of
myself? Nearly everything I do is for the benefit of myself. Whether it
be going to school (a school with a hypocritical and oppressive
administration nonetheless), sending email to the President or
volunteering my time, the motives can be traced back to the source of
action. I could say I do certain things because I'm a philanthropist, but
if philanthropy was void of joy, I wouldn't do it. It is not solely to
help others, it is for the happiness I derive from it. (Philanthropy to
benefit the philanthropist?) Are my thoughts more appealing than truth
therefore outweighing it? What do I value more, truth or my favored
mindset?

Why am I writing this? Why am I sitting here alone thinking? Every
now and then, the loud engine of a semi-truck will rise up, breaking the
fragile concentration I have created, and yet I endure it. What for? I
want to see what this "mind" thing can do? I know it is capable of much
more than what it is being used for as I type, and yet I will never know
the extent of its powers. It is for the benefit of myself.

Can these thoughts really be claimed as my own? With such a tainted
mind as mine, can I say the words 'I think' truthfully? I was raised in a
small town in the United States for most of my relatively short life. My
'parents' we're not devout religous people, but I know they upheld most
morals instilled into society's mindset. My beliefs and morals can be
directly attributed to the society in which I was raised. I probably
wouldn't believe many of the things I do if it wasn't for this. For
example, would I condone cannibalism if condemnation wasn't instilled in
me?

Many creatures feed on their own, but when it comes to my supreme and
dominant race, I can't quite bring myself to condone it. Could the truth
be otherwise?

Perhaps truth is relative to the 'individual.' What may be truth to
one does not necessarily have to be truth to another. I don't know, and I
may never know. When it all comes down to it, it seems that I resort to
that old rule taught to me in grade school -- the educated guess. I can
only wait uncontently for time to tell where my thoughts will lead. It is
even more distressing to realize that even time may not tell.

+--- ----------- - -------------------------- - - ----------+
(3) "Shadow Conversing" by Cerkit

Alone with words,
Just me and thought.

Alone and weak,
Each battle's fought.

Why redundance is the truth,
Ironic twist.

Why redundant are my feelings,
And she is missed.

Force of habit,
Is this care.

Force of habit,
Is this pair.

Coupled by... a second chance,
The love's rehearsed.

The pain seeks me,
Not the reverse.

+--- ----------- - -------------------------- - - ----------+
(4) "Did You Love Her?" by Belial

"Did you love her?"

For a moment, he just sat there, laying on the couch, staring at the
ceiling. "I don't know. Sometimes I think I did, but then... it was like
we had nothing in common."

The woman nodded her head slightly and continued to ask questions.
"How about her? Did she love you?"

"I've thought about that for a while. I think she did -- at first
anyway, but then things changed. It began with little things. She'd
forget to call one day, then we'd make plans to do something and she'd
have to back out. It's hard to say, I just don't know anymore."

"I see," the woman said, twirling a pen between her fingers. "How
long into the relationship were you when you first began to notice these
things happening?"

For a few minutes, he closed his eyes, thinking about the question. "A
couple of weeks, maybe -- give or take."

"Anything else?" the woman asked.

"What do you mean? About what?" he asked, confused at the question.

"About your relationship."

"Oh," he said. "I don't know. It was like... In the beginning, we
had a lot of fun. We went places together, we laughed, we talked on the
phone -- I guess that's when I began to notice things were changing; in
the beginning, we talked on the phone every night, then... we just didn't.
See, I never really got to know her. Looking back, it seems like I was in
love with having a girlfriend and not her. Maybe that's why things didn't
work out."

"Perhaps," the woman said. "How come you didn't go to her when you
first noticed that there was a problem?"

"I," he began. "I didn't want to make things any worse than they
already were..."

"After you realized that there was a problem, what did you do?"

"I got really depressed. Well, it was on a weekend that I realized
this and I was having a few friends over. It was supposed to be a really
cool night, I hadn't seen my friends in a long time. We were going to
watch a few movies and possibly get drunk and have some laughs. But as it
turns out, I was too depressed to do anything. I just sat there,
miserable, watching my friends have a good time. The whole night I just
sat there staring at different things in my room. Then, I figured that I
would just drink my troubles away, but that didn't work. I took one drink
from the bottle and I just didn't have the heart or inspiration to get
drunk so I just continued to sit there."

"Did you EVER go to her? Did you ever share your feelings with her?"

"A couple of days later, I wrote her a letter."

"What did the letter say?" the woman asked, switching positions in her
chair.

"The letter... I told her everything. I told her things that nobody
in the world knew. Then I told her how much she changed my life. I told
her I wish I could treat her better, thanks for everything that she had
done for me. Then, I told her I wrote the letter because I felt that I
was losing her."

"What was her reaction?"

"Well, at this point, I was visiting her at her job every night just
so I could even talk to her. When I saw her, she told me that she read
the letter. That's all. She didn't comment, she didn't say anything.
She just said that she read it."

"And how did you feel about that?"

"I was upset, I felt conquered. I completely opened myself up to her.
I didn't know what to do or how to react. It was like... I gave her my
soul and she didn't want it or care."

"So," the woman began. "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything. She had to do something so I just hung around
for a while and then kissed her goodbye and left." He laughed. "She
promised me that she would call me later on that night."

"Did she?"

"You tell me." he said, sarcastically.

"She didn't." the woman guessed.

"No. It was like... It was like I was going out with myself. She
took no part in the relationship. When I saw her, it was alright, she
player her part in the act, but that was it."

Thinking for a minute, the woman asked another question. "So what
happened after that?"

"In my mind, I knew it was over -- but I didn't want it to be! I
wanted everything to be the way it was in the beginning. I had my mother
buy me a rose to give to her. I figured I would play the romantic and
maybe that would help things. I kind of knew it wouldn't, but I had to
try."

"Let me guess," the woman said. "It didn't?"

"Nope. That night, I brought the rose to her at work. Again, she
player her part in the act. She kissed me and acted like she was happy.
I couldn't stay long, so she told me to call her at work the next day --
she was working early. So, I did. We talked for a few minutes, but she
was at work and she had to do some stuff, so she told me she would call me
later on. I told myself that I would wait until 7:30 for her to call. If
she didn't call by then... that was it, I wasn't going to call her back.
I was finally going to listen to my friends advice. So, when 7:30 came
and went, I finally gave up."

For a moment, the woman just looked at him and then asked another
question. "How long has it been since you've talked to her?"

"That day. I haven't talked or seen her since I called her at her job
that morning."

"Let me ask you again," the woman started to ask. "Did you love her?"

"You know what," he began. "At first, I was really depressed that I
had lost a girlfriend, but then I realized that that was all that she was
to me. She was just another girl -- there were no emotional bonds between
us. I think I was right; I was in love with having a girlfriend, not the
girl herself. There was nothing more that I could have done to help
things, so eventually, things just worked themselves out. I wish it would
have ended a little different, but... I guess that's life."

"Indeed it is," the woman said, empatheticly.

"Is that all for today?" he asked, sitting up.

"Unless you would like to add anything."

"No. You've helped me a lot here today. I really didn't know what to
think before, I didn't really know how to cope. I knew what I was
feeling, but my thoughts weren't organized. You helped me understand what
these feelings are and how I should deal with them. Thank you."

"No problem at all, please come back any time."

After that, he gave the woman a check, said goodbye, and walked out of
the office. He never looked back, but he was finally free of the
thoughts, doubts, and delusions that were plaguing his mind and he was
finally ready to get on with his life.

+--- ----------- - -------------------------- - - ----------+
(5) "Too Convulsed to Care" by Cerkit

I taste the blood
On my dry, sunned lips,
I know it's yours.

In the red
From your head
To the lust you spent with those whores.

The many nights of viciousness,
Words of hate
Said in silence.

The color of anger
Art in motion
The beauty in violence.

In your white eyes
Filled with rage
Avenged by the blade.

What is this loyalty
That has your
Mind made?

In the cold wind greys of
Static on a television
Rewriting my stare.

My brain as the static
My ears caught in fear
My emotion, too convulsed to care.

The ashes evade
As the soul smokes away
With that short cherry light.

From my lips, to my lungs
Back to the air,
My breath lay in blight.

Pestilence to exhaustion
Loving in braids
And your heart cleary strife.

This thing... this
Wound that I brought you
Has ended your life.

+--- ----------- - -------------------------- - - ----------+
(6) "What Time is it?" by Cerkit

"Okay, okay." she said.

"You're being redundant again." said one.

"Redundant?" she questioned.

Redundancy was explained thereafter, though it was far from being
needed to be explained. It filled the final minutes between ordering,
however.

"Alright, alri--" she began again.

A short sort of "not again" sigh/laugh thing went on for a second as
the drinks arrived. Conversation retreated, reground and again staked
it's claim back on the booth, but he was too busy being made crazy by the
internal workings of thought. Some part of the discussion sparked his
refocus and he parted with some commentary.

"Ohh, _someone_ sounds bitter." another replied.

He pushed a sigh of discomfort out, explaining the obviousness of the
whole issue. Somehow the topic switched during the whole food arrival
situation. Without the matter of having anything to distract him, as he
had ordered nothing, he drifted a little.

"What time is it?" he wondered aloud.

He was convinced now that he was a worthless imposition, not worth a
moment. He, by the time he got his answer, had sworn to himself to not be
such a judgemental, analytical, self-centered egotist, which he was sure
he was. He ventured the notion of his bus trip home into the
flourishing garden of discussion, which was composed of several bites
followed by chewing, inhaling of a cigarette, and then exhaling of such
and a few slurps of whatever beverage was chosen therein. He was again
imposing, but offered the invitation to stay at one of his better friend's
house for the night.

The rest of the night kind of went by like the infinite number of
trees as a car would speed down a highway -- nothing strange or
inconsistent. Unfound by sleep, he lay plagued with the shadows of the
past and the light of the future. Unintroduced to his darkening, finally
sleep came. He awoke and sat for an hour or two. The phone rang, sort of
like a whip cracking him back into reality. The caller was a member of
last night's trivials, so... his also mentioning caffeine would be made
available, sugar-coated his invitation. The questionability of publicity
of thought made his face all too canvas to emotion's color. He reached
the intended doorstep in record time, with his uneducated, overbaked,
falsly smiling strut. The questions raised by another day quaked his
mind. The reprocussion left him adrift and unattentive, so much that the
further details of such lack worth to be undertaken. He recalled very few
phrases from the whole ordeal, but it managed to make solid implications.
The thought I like to think, a kiss too hard to drink.

+--- ----------- - -------------------------- - - ----------+

Dear Supreme Khazizstakki Commander,

Bad news from the front. We have been defeated by the Belgenarian
army. They had one advantage over us -- boots!

We dearly need such provisions to succeed in our conquest. Our
barefoot soldiers could hardly stand up, what with all the cuts, blisters,
and leeches on their feet. We were defeated easily, not very many
casualties though (due largely to the fact that many of our numbers slept
through the battle). Nevertheless, we shall regroup, boot ourselves, and
server your greater glory!

Your faithful servant,
General Ickvansteinenhammer

+ EOF +--------- - -------------------------- - - ----------+