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Date: Fri, 21 Aug 1992 15:11:00 GMT
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
From: stranglaring error <H.UNIATZ>
Subject: Re: Viereck? No.......
Viereck ----------------------------------------------------> Oblivion
Everything, always, just as you say.
<<<<<< Darling.>>>>>>
========================================================================
Date: Fri, 21 Aug 1992 15:07:00 GMT
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
From: "H." <H.UNIATZ>
Subject: Output of your job "CHEATING"
You're terribly mistaken about the "better times & better things to
do", "real time" (et des ans) is the only possible candidact for the
"better time" slot, and as for the "better things", well, they just
don't get done, as, having been so regrettably impolite as to accuse
you of not having time, I could hardly pull the same woebegone-fishing
plaints, even if I wanted to, which, no mistake and no nasty comments
from you, please, I do not. Thank you for my explanation. Prague,
I've heard of, yes; where it is is another matter. Bali, I think,
was the last rilly strange place I looked up for one (1) inexplicable
obsessieving unreason or another, I forget exactly. Oh, and, ahem,
<<<<darling>>>>, I did not seek you out, I wasaddressing Daniel; if
you just wish to... no, what I want to say is that noise-pollution, if
it had to be that, is as acceptable as you say it is, and, in publicly
private conservatics, it's won me a desiderated x-rated kingdom of tes
yeux, I think. (Or so she wished.) For one (1) confusedated by the
nature of exaggerated fictive festivity, the Enemy (cr)edible is a
very beautiful conceptitude; having marked out the boundaries of my
world in the distances of yr stone-casts, how can you suspect that yr
indelicacease could ever be a passant whim? Fool. Darling. I choose
to err on the side of hope: it'll have to be megaphone serenading,
seeing as how my upper storient expressly overlooks the disraeli
boulevard fire-engine route, sorry, I mean gladstone street (drunken
English politicians): out-noise-noise-noise the sirens if you can. I
shall be dealing most harshly with yr %other% Gaelic ex-fiancillary
persons, who, misrused or not, must sufferment in direck'd pain, LIBWCA-
tactic-like. And, you, you, you: it is commandatory that you should a
thousand times bother to stew in this kitchen: aim highest and
corrallez-y, bumpety-bumptious on the steepistolic stairway to (how
could you doubt it?) Hell. "*Where*?" Why, right here.
H.
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Date: Sun, 23 Aug 1992 01:22:20 CST
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
From: GR4302
Subject: not on vacation, just don't love you anymore, alas!
Anyplace in England would be Hell, would ' not? For me, at least, the
Sunshine in New York State is not too too too well let's say too slick
off the stone (how bout the drip drip down yer ice cream coney) y sozo
sucio. I've got a theory I've been living with as long as yer arm, as
long as since the ice age been gone, long as the line outside Picadillo's
on cheeseball night and blah blah blah. Sort of this: I can only hear
it, can only take it / feel it when it's deep within the fuzz, embedded
first, whate'er it be, in the pink of void. Help, someone send me
seven seconds of radio noise in SVX8 or on one a dem funny rubber tapes or
what? I dunno... Hu... Hu-elp! {Help!} Need it, Ned, .... in a fuzzzz,oo.
I say
This
This is the magic hour
This
This the magic sound
This
This is how they run
This
This is how they kiss the ground
This is how they wait for the magic hour
Mm Mm Wait for the silver gun
This
Wait for the magic power
Wait for the sun
How they kiss the ground
How they run
Mm Mm Wait
Mm Mm Wait
Mm Mm How they kiss the ground
Wait for the magic hour
How they run
========================================================================
Date: Sun, 23 Aug 1992 01:47:09 CST
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
From: GR4302
Subject: poetry in notion (noney)
August 20, 1992 (for Katerina & Sebastian)
The sky decided that after all it could break and fall
And began to split apart into jagged chunks of blue
It rained Albatross in London for a week w/o reprieve
Lorca poked his head up out of the grave
And seeing the shadow of the 20th century
still stretched across the land
Popped back into his hole for another
six years bad weather
I took a look at the Calendar
And oh those curvey lines
Sent titilating shiivverrs down my spine
And with heart in stomache
Squeezed out all possible bodily fluids
And with a groan failed onced more to get out of bed
:^##
A Snake and a Flower Converse
Snake says: Experience says to everything: "Geography buddies form
formulas for that positive attitude."
Flower says: Look for any ideas you disagree with. Focus on purpose
together.
;^##
Insipient Groups of the World of Today, August 20, 1992
i.
To the end
The Research shows
They do it all the time
I guess it's been a year and a half
Four kids who had gotten together
And so they just did everything together
They had other social lives, but
If they could do it together they'd do it
And the Research stronly suggests
that there's a reason for that
I mention the different names
I mean, they go by lots of different names
Committees, call yourself a committee
ii.
Texts even end.
Credit ways help.
Text, ah, and peer--
I function peer-responding.
But the earlier composition
On stage process inside hopes
One is a writer. It's instead
A friend to me, success;
Cause others to get the problem,
The writer, here's a good one,
Performs, that is, of brainstorming.
There's no reason why.
iii.
Readers to put on organizing
Normally continue. They thought
Language rough. They draft holds,
Morgan up composition of collaborative other.
Let them go on.
iv.
American seating
Grand Central Station
One failure key is your own commitment.
Work yourself; I do encourage it.
I went there one year and was scarey
to incredible touch bonds.
So-- get up something smart, an exchange.
;^##
Snake and Flower Converse (on the hollowness of dead trees)
Snake says to Flower: Funny, my feet were with me along up till now.
What is it? What's that smell in the air?
Flower says to Snake: Oh snake. How could you not know?
:^##
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Date: Mon, 24 Aug 1992 08:01:16 GMT
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
Comments: Warning -- original Sender: tag was WORDS-L@UGA.CC.UGA.EDU
From: torkel@
Subject: Fermat update
In view of the enormous interest in FLT that turned out to exist
among wordslers, I'm including here a portion of the sci.math FAQ
file, containing some basic information "for non-specialists".
However, it's no use asking me what is meant by "heights of points on
non-singular algebraic varieties". Ask Tushar, who eats non-singular
algebraic varieties for breakfast.
1Q: What is the current status of Fermat's last theorem?
(There are no positive integers x,y,z, and n > 2 such
that x^n + y^n = z^n)
I heard that <insert name here> claimed to have proved it
but later on the proof was found to be wrong. ...
(wlog we assume x,y,z to be relatively prime)
A: The status of FLT has remained remarkably constant. Every
few years, someone claims to have a proof ... but oh, wait,
not quite. Meanwhile, it is proved true for ever greater
values of the exponent (but not all of them), and ties are
shown between it and other conjectures (if only we could
prove one of them), and ... so it has been for quite some time.
It has been proved that for each exponent, there are at most
a finite number of counter-examples to FLT.
Here is a brief survey of the status of FLT.
It is not intended to be 'deep',but rather is intended fornon-specialists.
The theorem is broken into 2 cases. The first case assumes (abc,n) = 1.
The second case is the general case.
What has been PROVED
--------------------
First Case.
It has been proven true up to 7.568x10^17 by the work of Wagstaff &Tanner,
Granville&Monagan, and Coppersmith.They all used extensions of theWiefrich
criteria and improved upon work performed by Gunderson andShanks&Williams.
The first case has been proven to be true for an infinite number of
exponents by Adelman, Frey, et. al. using a generalization of the
Sophie Germain criterion
Second Case:
It has been proven true up to n = 150,000 by Tanner & Wagstaff. Thework
used new techniques for computing Bernoulli numbers mod p and improvedupon
work of Vandiver. The work involved computing the irregular primes up to
150,000. FLT is true for all regular primes by a theorem of Kummer.
In the case of irregular primes, some additional computations areneeded.
UPDATE :
Fermat's Last Theorem has been proved true up to exponent 2,000,000 in
the general case. The method used was that of Wagstaff: enumerating and
eliminating irregular primes by Bernoulli number computations. The
computations were performed on a set of NeXT computers by RichardCrandall.
Since the genus of the curve a^n + b^n = 1, is greater than or equal to2
for n > 3, it follows from Mordell's theorem [proved by Faltings], thatfor
any given n, there are at most a finite number of solutions.
Conjectures
-----------
There are many open conjectures that imply FLT. These conjectures comefrom
different directions, but can be basically broken into several classes:
(and there are interrelationships between the classes)
(a) conjectures arising from Diophantine approximation theory such as
The ABC conjecture, the Szpiro conjecture, the Hall conjecture, etc.
For an excellent survey article on these subjects see the article
by Serge Lang in the Bulletin of the AMS, July 1990 entitled
"Old and new conjectured diophantine inequalities".
Masser and Osterle formulated the following known as the ABC conjecture:
Given epsilon > 0, there exists a number C(epsilon) such that for any
set of non-zero, relatively prime integers a,b,c such that a+b = c we
have
max( |a|, |b|, |c|) <= C(epsilon) N(abc)^(1 + epsilon)
where N(x) is the product of the distinct primes dividing x.
It is easy to see that it implies FLT asymptotically.
The conjecture was motivated by a theorem, due to Mason tha
essentially says the ABC conjecture IS true for polynomials.
The ABC conjecture also implies Szpiro's conjecture [and vice-versa]
and Hall's conjecture. These results are all generally believed to be
true.
There is a generalization of the ABC conjecture [by Vojta] which is too
technical to discuss but involves heights of points on non-singular
algebraic varieties . Vojta's conjecture also imples Mordell's theorem.
[already known to be true]. There are also a number of inter-twined
conjectures involving heights on elliptic curves that are related to
much of this stuff. For a more complete discussion, see Lang's article.
(b) conjectures arising from the study of elliptic curves and modular
forms. -- The Taniyama-Weil-Shmimura conjecture.
There is a very important and well known conjecture known as the
Taniyama-Weil-Shimura conjecture that concerns elliptic curves.
This conjecture has been shown by the work of Frey, Serre, Ribet, et.al.
to imply FLT uniformly, not just asymptotically as with the ABC conj.
The conjecture basically states that all elliptic curves can be
parameterized in terms of modular forms.
There is new work on the arithmetic of elliptic curves.
Sha, the Tate-Shafarevich group on elliptic curves of rank 0 or 1.
By the way. An interesting aspect of this work is that there is a close
connection between Sha, and some of the classical work on FLT. For
example, there is a classical proof that uses infinite descent to prove
FLT for n = 4. It can be shown that there is an elliptic curveassociated
with FLT and that for n=4, Sha is trivial. It can also be shown that in
the cases where Sha is non-trivial, that infinite-descent arguments do
not work; that in some sense 'Sha blocks the descent'. Somewhat more
technically, Sha is an obstruction to the local-global principle [e.g.
the Hasse-Minkowski theorem].
(c) Conjectures arising from some conjectured inequalities involving
Chern classes and some other deep results/conjectures in arithmetic
algebraic gemoetry. [about which I know epsilon].
I can't describe these results since I don't know the math. Contact
Barry Mazur [or Serre, or Faltings, or Ribet, or ...]. Actually the
set of people who DO understand this stuff is fairly small.
The diophantine and elliptic curve conjectures all involve deepproperties
of integers. Until these conjecture were tied to FLT, FLT had beenregarded
by most mathematicians as an isolated problem; a curiosity. Now it
can be seen that it follows from some deep and fundamental properties of
the integers. [not yet proven but generally believed].
This synopsis is quite brief. A full survey would run to many pages.
========================================================================
Date: Mon, 24 Aug 1992 13:08:07 EDT
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
From: LIBWCA
Subject: Re: Fermat update
In-Reply-To: Message of Mon, 24 Aug 1992 08:01:16 GMT from <torkel@>
Accidentally posting mail to the wrong list is a common and easily
forgiven misdeed; however, when the mail in question was intended for
that hideous sinkhole of verbosity, WORDS-L, the affair is not so
easily overlooked. I suggest that you make your peace with whatever
gods you hold sacred, torkel-san; not that I, personally, am overly
offended (for which you may thank your lucky stars or the aforementioned
deities); I did fairly easy time on WORDS-L, having bribed the screws
early on and obtained my own padded e-cell, and of course having been
revered by the various gangs as King of the Cellblock. There are others
about, however, who do not look fondly upon their brief stints in the
joint; one cellmate of mine had to chew off his own cerebral cortex to
escape, and of course didn't get far into the swamp before the
wolverines found him. It wasn't pretty, no, not pretty at all, but
they sewed him back together, after a fashion, and he did the rest of
his time quietly, looking up anglo-saxon word derivations in back issues
of the readers digest, and swearing a bloody vow to all and sundry: once
he got his walking papers, he said, he would remove the beating kidneys
from the kidney-cavity of any man, woman or rodent who dared to mention,
in his presence, the name of the hated list which cost him his chance to
pursue a career as a game show host. That man's name was Arthur Parker,
and he'll be gunning for you, Mr. Torkel. Don't sleep for a few years,
huh?
========================================================================
Date: Mon, 24 Aug 1992 14:16:00 EDT
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
From: Slimm Laramie <LIBALP>
Subject: it makes me laugh
Ho! The OED cites Popeye the Sailor Man as the source for "wimpy", "goon",and
"jeep" what about that! Heh, I could look up lots more of, of that kind of
thing if I hadn't left a few consonants in the swamp, but it's not so much
the Wheel of Fortune thing that bothers me, it's just that
> Ask Tushar, who eats non-singular algebraic varieties for breakfast.
reminds me of Saturn Devouring His Children, my most successful Tableau For
The Benefit of One. The One, of course, being me. Hee, they certainly
didn't benefit; no they most certainly din't benefit at all, lovely shiny
happy dead wretches WITH BLOOD COMING OUT WITH BLOOD COMING OUT
me so silly
========================================================================
Date: Mon, 24 Aug 1992 14:14:00 -05
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
From: Merciful Lee Dickens <DICKENS>
Subject: COMEDY JOKE:
THIS IS A TRUE STORY, SO HELP ME GOD:
A few years ago, when the Pope visited America, he had a discussion
with the driver of the limousine that was transporting him from the
Hartsfield International Airport in Atlanta to his suite at the Hilton.
The Pope and the driver were making small talk about the United States
when the Pope said,
"You know, I love visiting your country, but there's one thing that
I've always wanted to do that, so far, I just haven't been able to
accomplish."
"What might that be, Your Lordship?", asked the chauffeur.
"I have always wanted to drive one of these big American limousines.
Do you think it might be possible to let me drive for awhile?"
The driver hesitated, wondering if he might get into trouble for
letting the Pope drive, but finally he relented and, pulling over to
the side of the road, got out and swapped places with the Pope.
The Pope wrapped his fingers around the steering wheel and, with a
glance in the rear view mirror, eased the limo back onto the highway.
"This feels as great as I imagined it would", he said, and slowly began
pressing the accelerator to the floor. He slowly brought the speed up
to about 80 miles per hour, taking advantage of the breaks in traffic
to dart in and out among the slower cars.
He was cruising along in this fashion when he caught the eye of a
Georgia Highway Patrolman who was parked behind a billboard.
The Pope noticed the lights of the trooper about the same time that he
heard the siren and he pulled off to the roadside.
The policeman approached the car and, warily eyeing the sacred papal
vestments worn by the Pope, asked to examine his driver's license.
"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I don't have a license" said the Pope.
"Officer, this man is the Pope" said the chauffeur from the back seat.
"I see," replied the patrolman, looking from the Pope to the chauffeur
now, "but I'll have to call headquarters on this. If you will excuse
me..."
The officer walked back to his patrol car and contacted his superior.
"Chief, look - I'm afraid I've got a real problem out here. I have a
VERY Important Person that I had to stop for speeding. What should I
do? Should I let him go?"
"Well," said the Chief, "Is it a Congressman?"
"No, he's higher up than that."
"A Senator?"
"No, Chief, he's higher up than that."
"It's not the Governor, is it?"
"No, Chief, he's higher up than that, too."
"Who is it - the President?!"
"No sir, he's even more important than THAT!"
"Well, who the hell is it then?"
"I don't know, but whoever it is, HE'S GOT THE POPE DRIVING FOR HIM!"
You've Been A Great Audience!
Thank You And Good Night!
Merciful Lee Dickens
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Date: Tue, 25 Aug 1992 12:03:00 GMT
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
From: "Good morning, Dana" <H.UNIATZ>
Subject: Reply to COMEDY JOKE:
>THIS IS A TRUE STORY, SO HELP ME GOD:
*** Comments from VERY SYMPATHETIC SKULL&CROSSBONES
Dana, old soul,
that was shockingly tedious
but never mind
here, jump off the skateboard and sit yourself down
no, that's too near
move ten (10) feet away
there, that's better
I want to ask you something
you see, well, I'm not sure, really, but
DO YOU THINK HE YOU KNOW HE WHO IS YOU KNOW MY WORLD DOES IT DELIBERATELY
TO WORRY ME BECAUSE HE IS YOU KNOW LIKE THAT
whaddya think?
I WANT TO KNOW
but, then, how would you know any more than I do?
so you're no good to me
SOD OFF
Thank you and good night, Dana, DARLING.
strangler the sacrificially sublime
========================================================================
Date: Tue, 25 Aug 1992 21:31:41 GMT
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
Comments: Warning -- Be careful in what you ask for ...
From: queue cue <cheating@CCVM.SUNYSB.EDU>
Subject: First Things First...
>Viereck ---------------------------------------------------->Oblivion
>
>Everything, always, just as you say.
>
><<<<<< Darling.>>>>>>
Alas, might I invoke clemency? I shall try again, if you'd suffer me in
Viereck'd pain for a spell, a passerby's dismissive hand-sleight waving
ruin-shored, and, in homestead, load the Po-Et Utilities Program, type
"restore M:\Viereck oblivion", and, while waiting, turn the pictures on the
desk down and the ones on the wall away; apologies for my decked-out
affrontology musn't be squandered on the politesstimable-Enemy's photo
drills in murderigeur mysteries of who-done-who wrong (not much of a
mystery at all, this time ... mea culpa, <<<<<< Darling.>>>>>>).
"In this self-continent age", Sling: passivility is the name of troughs of
hell-bentertain-us chits who pridealize themselves for dcorrectaccounting
of stressed assailables in bid-you-well overflown & well-spun plods --et
ne faire que a: lime kiln lectern stands are most easily purchased,
slightly less easily assembled, and far too easily mounted (and one thought
yeux-mobiles were inclemental in their incidence). Though not actuarily a
provisio for peddling yr devil-may-wares midst the taint of Castle
Obsequious, the rallying call for verstwhile contemporaries is the love of
Armada-bankruptcy days and the glory of swamp-dwelling Venice and the trod
of the morass across the dilatory last-flicks of the nightly tv utterance,
with disdain and chagrin for all that is not well-apportioned for some
proper learning, schoolboy rote-tote style. And, for the bovintage
paternostalgia of young matadorables: success spawns fawns impressed with
ease of foes deposed in seizing the crest of the chronic dawn's behest
releasing the throes of the Golden Mean: it all gets washed away by the
time the afternoon tea (or siesta, depends on where you are) rolls round.
Some early birds'll know better, particularly those who've been up since
the previous go round (those New Ways of Thinking, no doubt, no doubt).
And, ultimely, a directive (urk.): those who live by the piece of the
"CRAFT" pie die such auch: a (cr)edit-chauffered consumptive force can
decry check-marketed orders for the successes of long-begotten (c)aged-
buzzards, still shored, still shelved, and earning its happenstance on the
dollar (oops, sixpence) in the remaindered difference (ooh la la): the Rule
of the Idiot Fury of "Art" (under Reason). My counter-candidact
([s]elective): don't (Just) count, count for something (Just) (ho ho ho)
(la la la la la la la la la la), and, esp., Listen with Intent. As Gen.
Mills proclaims, "trade" and "tradition" have similar polinating stylos
[Reader's Digesticulater-than-you-think, 1992H].
-M-
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Date: Tue, 25 Aug 1992 21:37:53 GMT
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
Comments: Warning -- ... you might just find it at your door.
From: queue cue <cheating@CCVM.SUNYSB.EDU>
Subject: Catch As Catch Can
"For one (1) confusedated by the nature of exaggerated fictive
festivity, the Enemy (cr)edible is a very beautiful conceptitude"
-- indeed. But which one (1)? The one who's Siren's call her
awake at night or the out-of-words out-of-bounds travado who too
often wonders aloud that it %would% be grand, grander than grand,
if megaphones were just a bit easier to come by and didn't distort
one's words from sounding sincere to sounding, well, just plain
loud. "Anyway, one could as easily ask Why not marry an electronic
blip from East Anglia? And so: Why not?" Indeed, it has been a
struggle, from the initial gauntlet-fling to the gauntlet-toast of
this halcyon summer's frozen frame, partially buffeted by the roped
wind in Polaroid monumentalism. "Elsewise they will merely
iteratively curse each other forever like stupid software or
artificially stupid humans": Daniel, did you do this? Though not
actively winding dooms of love of late, perhaps cockroachs should
be given their just due, the Paranoia Charm School so ardently
hope-side-erred with a hushed hasted, temporarily templated in a
grand scheme. "H. (set cheating-l mine mine mine)", though that
still requisitions me to wonder why the subscription rate stands
at one (1) even and how, of all the gin joints in the world, fate
would have Smiled (go on, you can do it) on delicate dreams of
sleeplessness spent pronouncing her name in a place where "nothing
means anything much anymore and what's left is hardly systematic,
rather a dreadfully untidy mess" which I wouldn't have any other
way as I still somehow remember where everything but that one
biscuit I was saving for later and the coupon for a free Po-Em lies,
satrapped by the commandeering will. "List demeanour is still
mostly unchartered territory, and you are blindly and circularly
chartering in the wrong directions." The beaten path fought back,
and the Law won. It was better to surrender whatever degree of
dignity I might have imagined having -- though it is doubtful I had
any rilly -- and cut sluices from pathways which were not yet
escape routes, and thereby opposing, have that fifteen minutes of
fame I'd heard about. From the coast: Look back! See! the witness
stand fill with urgents facing rows of terminal monitors! The
Civil War has belonged to everyone, a cut-rate green brigade for
the champion, the only two (2) left standing at the close. Lime
kiln lectern revised and it's the way you remember in a finishing
school in time, in time, as "now, of course, is not the time to
mention that you bring all the distraughts and distroths upon
yourself, being so endemic and engaging and vexatious"; gladly,
and the lake effect on the safe house is that the windows are
perpetually fogged. I shall not make my amends, there's still so
much to do, so much to be done. "As to what i said last time
around, i was tired and monosyllabic and i meant none of it."
Perhaps, this shall come to pass. I can only (remain her) prey,
and hope that, this time, she was rested, eloquent, and that
[jellyfish] rings true, darling, darling, darling.
-------------------------------------------------M
========================================================================
Date: Wed, 26 Aug 1992 18:08:00 GMT
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
From: strangler <H.UNIATZ>
Subject: Caught As Catch Candescent
Standing at my lime kiln lectern, looking over the audience for an
M. as heckler, fencingly defending my right to be very right and his
right to correctly tell me I'm very wrong: in Listening With Intent,
anything that is said may be taken down and crumpled up to be
propelled by catapulterior motives if only desultorily at the opponent
in catch if catch can, and, this place being mire enough to sustain
oneupmano'warship, catch if catch cannot, with no solemn decorum to
weigh against the hell of it: tell you what, you(-done-me-no-wrong)
could always try adding whatever measure of dignity you retain to my
own negative quantity, divide by two (2), and, there!, we'd be quits,
though not, I should hope, quit. Shelters, m'dear, be they of the bus
or nuclear variety, do not rilly have to DO anything @anywhere: by their
mere essence and presence they serenely provide a sureness aidful in
dealing with whatever minor peril(l)-doings may arise. As for the
froth of ephemeralia, I cannot complain: it's seldom malicious (though
occasionally inquisitive), it's fully unpredictable, sometimes
absorbing, and never in my life have I had the opportunity to closely
observe a scorpion, except perhaps in my more paranoid imaginings,
scuttling around in biscuit-tins or disguised as gr4302's favourite
attar of roses. And, even if one Tuesday I should awaken and, suddenly
feeling a wish for the Taj Mahal to be superimposed on my horizons,
watch it gather shape outside my door, skull&crossbones suspennanted
from the highest point, I could not believe in the Enemy omnipotentative
any more than I do now. I do not precisely know the rulessons of
counterespioneiric communication, nor those of unchartered sideways-
listing, but insteadfastly maintaint that anything whatsoever said in
fallen-from-chaise mode (& that second signature brought on a verie
merrie Smile: it had been nearly a year since last I observed it) is
a truth to be held and beheld self-evidentrancingly, no matter how
weary or lacking in syllables the said partie lately parted from a
swivel perch may be, and [jellyfish] has always rung true in its mental
(or perhaps I mean cardiac, arthur would know best) bell-chamber, even
if it has sometimes become overdramatisedimented in the process of
transferendition to gaudily illumined pixels, as it will be in the
immediate up-coming, & you'll excuse me I know, but I just wish to say:
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<lt;<<<<<<<<<Darling.>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
H. (sevensixzero)
========================================================================
Date: Wed, 26 Aug 1992 18:14:00 GMT
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
From: "Good morning, Dana" <H.UNIATZ>
Subject: AHEM, SHE SAID, TO ATTRACT ATTENTION
NICE DAY
========================================================================
Date: Thu, 27 Aug 1992 02:13:02 CST
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
From: GR4302
Subject: wyrd oft nereth unfaegne eorl thonne his ellen deah...
we inherited cause and effect from the ancient germanics but sadly not
the nominalism of its foundation and therefore neither its metaphorical
teleology, which sometimes seemed spurious or futile in our days of
thomism but now re-emerges as part of our mathematics
every moment is a miracle in that it is not any other moment
every moment of becoming is an act of faith in systems sure to fail
hence there is no end to the mystery in our lives, nor the mystery of
life and so we can live!! an answer to sartre that would amuse him in
that he would imagine how disturbing it would be to camus:
the one who resists this, who, spurning goedel, gathers to the inviobility
of systems, is like the child who, spoiled, is allowed to insist on the
nutriciousness of its own feces and having not a dog's liver is poisioned
:^##
========================================================================
Date: Thu, 27 Aug 1992 11:38:00 EDT
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
From: Slimm Laramie <LIBALP>
Subject: Don't do cardiac
Won't be looking up East Anglia in atlas due to profound disappointment
after locating Stony Brook, sorry. But sometimes it's better that way,don't
you think, H.? A lot of things are better that way . . .
Has anyone met our new friends at Sun Managers? Do stop by for some
donuts. It's a support group for triple-funnybone amputees.
Don't show bunt. Darling.
alp
========================================================================
Date: Thu, 27 Aug 1992 09:33:25 PDT
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
From: JEFFREY
Subject: Did someone mention liver? (Caution, Spoilers Ahead!)
You take that large cow organ
and slam it on a plate
Take a jar of bread crumbs
Now I can relate
Coat that slab with spices sweet
and crumb it all up nice
Fire up the frying pan
and cook that liver twice
Oh yes it smells so lucious
and doesn't it look fine
lying there so steaming hot
I never could share mine
Now you know the secret
of culinary art
Eating Twice-cooked liver
Is pretty goddamned smart
It sure beats munching pretzels
It's better than a beer
There's nothing like some liver
To make you stand and cheer
It's natures perfect foodstuff
You really ought to know
No matter how you cook it
It's also fun to throw.
--Jeffrey
========================================================================
Date: Thu, 27 Aug 1992 18:11:04 GMT
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
Comments: Warning -- Should you chance to cop it, I know that's amisquote
From: "Cecil P. Dogbody" <cheating@CCVM.SUNYSB.EDU>
Subject: Magi Gift (In Bromide Chambers)
Ah, quick, does anyone have an anthem I might purchase for those who
wield the telephone well? Better them than I, though when there's
interference with the mail, some with jobs might be well: Following
Up Dillingerently: The Schisms of Everyday -- and for all you Puritan-
ethic purveyors of the dischorded-cloth flock, Antipope, hot on the
heels of Bethlehem's bedlamination, rated boarding-house number XXIII
before the death of that strain -- need erubin to safe-passage those
endue(l)s forever and ever and ever ... draffable to yr pallored-
frenzies, the chattle Enemy dogbodies the Harlequin wheresoeveritassled-
peers she goes: The Taj Mahallowed-be-her-name presents no difficulties,
so it thus falls outside the borders of the cheating eriding domainland
("Put on my duty-taxed lean-to suit / And prepared to have nothin' to
do / Oh, I put on my lean-to suit / And I's ready to have nothin' to
do / Well, my baby, she's an essentialist / And I'm feelin' somewhat
misused" -- Thank you, thank you, that was "Shelter-Skelter", You've
Been A Wonderful Audience, Good Night!), long ago declared by the
omnipotentate a maelstrom moritorium on serenity. The Enemy, bratticed
for over-seasons statistationing in Hell@Gladstone, oops, pardon,
Balfour Street (Vive la English in reflexive overtones of Sacred Cow
Stagnant Cosh name-appeal), rills the H-cross [Darling.] dais dado in
serpentine displacing of the Enemy's own hoveled demeanour. (And no
need for Maths: zero-sum bifurcated is multiplication of entities, or
at least steps: my thoroughly unpositive grave dignity is smitten to
none by yr thoroughly unnegative quiddity, and you may collect quits-
call any ol' time (but don't even think of the other; the immediate
up-coming must remain (Just) so, even in LIBWCA-logics).)
Listening With Intent, Part II: A better Po-Et Viereck is, a better
Po-Et he shall always be; I've no stock in penitent-patient traps of
being magicked back to the loneliest nook where the rhythms are
stayed and steaded in end-stop-gap shouting of "Mother, I don't
believe you're watching": I could shout "Repetition Compulsion" 14
times; I could shout "Persecution Complex" 14 times; do I then, by
opposing, end with a prismed prisonnet? And where then the
enjambivalue-addedicatalysms? Special show on the all-new KILR FM
(now carried on BBC Radio 4 as Hit the North, er, East) to the
counterpoint of this proctor scion (See! Hostels fill with signature-
vendors! Witness! The strafing revelation of "How I Invented Cladistic
Man" in group of wingers, clips of strings of pseudo-eccl. pen. comp.
pt.!), yrs to behead. Or, as performative, to wit:
Compulsory Romantic Phase (ho-hum): Would that I may dally beside you,
our heads bowed towards cobalt-rust skies surmounted by a dusk-appointed
shed as the latticed raft of our breathing unstills the consecrated
lair; and the band shall translate almost of its own accord to your
arched mirrored digit, the hands presenting the crowned heart as the
tacit crescendo to the hour which, passed, fears not that it may be
less than the finest the world could but hope to know. [A churn-out-
of-sorts, but with the comfortitude that 1992 may also only have 11
months, and that the missing span might be mine mine mine; yet, also,
read: CHALLENGE (mine) to the inestimable of ANY else (or erse) who
might hope to do better in hoisting the cloister'd main.]
-M-
========================================================================
Date: Thu, 27 Aug 1992 19:55:48 GMT
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
From: "Cecil P. Dogbody" <cheating@CCVM.SUNYSB.EDU>
Subject: For Jeffty
All who've gather'd should listen dear
To my talk of bygone woe
So you should know the dangers that lie
In denying the blood its flow.
Finding myself to be quite famished,
I searched both low and high
For a bite, a scrap, a morsel, a crumb,
But my pantry was bone dry.
Then feeling the pangs nearly bowl me over
I knew that I must eat,
I recalled those words a friend once wrote:
"The liver's a special treat!"
I pulled the silverware from its drawer
And spread it on the ground;
I looked and grinned an evil grin
At the julienne I had found.
I wasted no time, took no precautions,
The cut it was a good on';
Much blood was there, but I kept on carving
Through my flesh like so much puddin'.
At last I had it, or maybe my kidney,
By now my mind had left me;
I double-fried it, right then and there,
No chef could have been so deftly.
I sunk in my teeth right through the meat
Pleased my hunger to appease;
The flavo(u)r good, though not for long:
My life had run out its lease.
Oh, glory to God in Heaven above
And may He continue to guide us;
I'm gone to see Him in a short time
From Grade B Hepatitis.
--M
========================================================================
Date: Thu, 27 Aug 1992 20:10:00 GMT
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
From: queue cue <cheating@CCVM.SUNYSB.EDU>
Subject: Re: Don't do cardiac
>Won't be looking up East Anglia in atlas due to profound disappointment
>after locating Stony Brook, sorry. But sometimes it's better that way,don't
>you think, H.? A lot of things are better that way . . .
>
>alp
Disappointment? Now, now, Arthur, son, ol' chap (but most certainly
not "boy"), perhaps it's the location which could in only one way
fail to impress / a man possessed; but Stony Brook has been, for quite
some time, a centerfuge of Western Civilization.
One example to suffice: Joe Kane, the creator of Captain America,
retired to Stony Brook (though he has recently returned, no doubt to
raise the cultural spirits in this time of darkness). Add to that
the charm school pedigree of Daniel A. Foss, who, if nothing else,
%will% talk to you (compare that with the attitude of unNormals in
Atlanta towards perfect strangers, still smarting from the
unpleasantness from a decade ago...), and I don't see how one could
go wrong.
Still, the whole of East Anglia is mine, nothing disrespectful meant,
Mr. Juggernaut Sir. Best if you don't, I agree.
And the rules should be changed so that a sacrifice fly or bunt should
be an AB, regardless of the multi-million egos of overnight flyboys.
May Fay continue to wave.
--M, who only follows baseball
'cuz of Lynn Nelson
========================================================================
Date: Fri, 28 Aug 1992 11:30:08 EDT
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
From: DAF <DFOSS>
Subject: Pears
What ho Peter Pears, M, Benujamin Britten Peter Grimesman?
DAF
========================================================================
Date: Fri, 28 Aug 1992 18:50:00 GMT
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
From: paint-box blues <H.UNIATZ>
Subject: Have I Told U Lately That I [Heart] U?
CRP: Would that the cobalt-rust skies might loom dense and low as
I gently chisel yr [y'know] from your chest, speaking softly as I
so do that my consideswiping words to you might beat a pleximetric
echo in yr skull, through and past your moment of death, leaving you
[y'know]-damagedly roaming the worm-troughs of however much of a
preternity you might wish yrself with a splitinerant headache and
an inexpurgateable memoire of how tapers I lit to you had been
circustomarici juggled and <what with I, as you rather vacuously
pointed out, being me (and me, doubtless, being I)> let fall on
strawbeds to conflagrate on your nerves, then logging out, place
my arms in a wrapt position on the desktop and slumber the better
for the breezy air-turbulence of yr franticking gesticulations,
alas! too late for regretort: two vicious deceaseismics there for
you, O Cornerstone of My Slaughterhouse, just due, if you ask me,
which, of course, you won't -- I mean, why should you? -- for yr
own CRP, which lay a mite sickly upon the palate, not that I'd wish
you to think, O Double Strength Artificially Sweetened Honey Dear,
that you are not every dewy petal of every flower I stand upon, the
light of truth in the beady eyes of every wasp I blithely clobber,
every missing month as tallied isomorphically to the revolutions
of yr own heavenly orbs (urk) as you carve the calendar, every ray of
glorious sunshine burrowing cancerastes in my dermis: Sing: I've Got
You Under My Skglug-glug-glug-glug-glug-glug-glug-glug-glug-glug
warbling live from Chicago of how a frog ("That can find no log //
To hop, // But if, Baby, I'm the bottom, // You're the top!" da da da
de da, da da DA!) when kissed turns into a frog with lipstick traces.
[Daniel: well, well, well. Have you heard the exceedingly obscure
chanson about how, on the first day of Christmas, someone's true love
magi-gifted him/her with a partridge in a pear(s)-tree? No? Oh, ok,
I was only asking.]
Cnon-RP: About that missing month, darling, I'd advise you to swap
the 1p chewing-gum for the 2p variety: much better for congealatory
purposes to reaffix it in proven provender for yr liverish
canniballistic urges; or jellybabies, what about jellybabies... no,
deftly changing the subject to how you cut a figure with that fourteen
(14) fixation of yrs, have the rotten swine taken yr toy test@come-into
-my-parlour away? And if I can't speak, and you can't speak, and my
inadequalms preclude the buzzing of anthems of doomed tolerance on
telephone wires, then I can only hope that you can fold origamesmanship
paper planes to surrend me messes & messages of how we'll go no more
a-rillin' by aurora borealis as our eyesores meet across crowded smoky
ftp sites (oops, slipping: rename file Cnon-RP.sleaze to CRP.sleaze)
during my respite from the day-job as advertising executting-edge on
KILR 105.5 FM, where the management is kinda cute, if a trifle .........
...................................................yes, a sherry trifle.
H.
========================================================================
Date: Fri, 28 Aug 1992 21:28:30 CST
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
From: GR4302
Subject: squatting with a stick and sick teeth, is this IT?
isn't florida a message for us all?? i mean, what is what and what, huh
compadres, what plus what equals what Who Am the Only One and what He's
trying to tell us, huh? i mean i know what the feds were trying to say.
they were saying, what, southern florida blow away? no man, can't be.
not florida. i wonder what the fish think... poison, poison's the
problem and can we not maybe say that a hurricane's deity's wrath? will
this perhaps change the polls? i mean even orange co till just recently,
but, no man, can't be. not florida. hey, i no you won't believe it
either, but if you don't repent, nation, pow, right in the kisser. i mean,
check it out, new orleans got missed. new orleans, man. now the rest of
loosiana, y'no, duke country got some spanks. florida man, i mean i'm
sorry for em n all, but florida? no man, not there, not me please don't
wanna go unless i have to, don' wanna go before my time, i mean i'm still
young a few days, eh? i am young i am young i will place this blottered
bible on your tongue. a-men.
##^:
========================================================================
Date: Fri, 28 Aug 1992 22:32:44 CST
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
From: GR4302
Subject: no idea made a face
...e belly lint of crossnavigational overload sequencing. Too many
fippin famous people on this list you know how I hate it and makes
me scream and shit!! Please!! Is this the goldern underground
gopher porno and icecream shitlist or what, huh? I'm sick of it.
But now you always read my mind and stay ahead of me, so what? So,
how do you no what you'd be without me? My great uncle died last week
too, y'no... well y'no now. i'm a tellin' (wit' a stick in mah han').
i just don't believe in accidental postings, you did it to wave your
tongue at us. Well fine. I'm glad. Rilly. No, don't. Rilly.
I just don't want to hear anymore about jc, he's just joined us, ok?
What about cowell? He's been down here for years! And, Jeffrey, you
honey-lipped pig's ass--loose the shit-eating grin and try some freckle
remover for those unsightly mutations growing out your face! I mean itfolks
========================================================================
Date: Fri, 28 Aug 1992 22:53:11 CST
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
From: GR4302
Subject: pink gazette on toast and no idea
well i once knew arlena smithhammer? and diedre, y'know.... ourrelationaship
was so, well, you know, semiotic and our lunar phasing was the weirdestever.
i couldn't handle it so i packed it all in for some lost farm where we grew
our own corn and made liquor out back. lots of chicken. once knewgabrielle
masterwipe, but famous people don't make me nearly as sick as people who
know them, so i purged myself completely one weekend, ok?
========================================================================
Date: Sun, 30 Aug 1992 18:16:14 GMT
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
Comments: ... that I wouldn't do something foolish with it.
From: queue cue <cheating@CCVM.SUNYSB.EDU>
Subject: Re: No; perhaps you'd best not as I don't know ...
And, to no surprise of coupled cut syndrome, she CaRPs right back, leavingme
blanketed by the light but persistent peppered snow, my duskull caught in a
jetstream of a metric lexicon, and it would indeed seem self-evident,
childes, I'm Dead Yet Once Again, a carbon-vivant loss gathering oil in
evincing eidistic traductions to peat and in 1000 years ago from now a wench
implores the Proctor Scion to please belie the anguish of her inadequalmsand
to trough-up the fiancialles nobility and Let Her Marry the Lime KilnLectern
for her own cardiaccords -- the match is lit, they're set, and the Domesday
Tenement Land Transfer Protocol cedes this as 20-proof (Honey Lemon Sherry)
of Millenniumism -- there, you have yr altered past, just toss somedoubloons
in the History reflecting pool petitioning Medievalists for quiddities
throwning to vestibule vestiges of letters of letters -- now, just an edit
sum of smuggling yr tapered [no, I don't] to the fragrant flagrance of this
failed stance <and when, dear me, was I vicarious in assimilating youwith
being you? Make certain you've the cornerstone folded down so I might
hermetically dispute, disown, and discard said month's tapersty [sic],
another of the H(M's god, no bloody lie-group in isomorbidically correalty,
and if bringing forth verie merrie Smiles might evade the fin deParteimacht,
I shall begin to sign all my posts with Daniel's compostitional library
forays of glorious sunshine epide(r)mic -- SHE'S MY YOU KNOW WORLD AND ALL
THE PROCESSES THEREOF (now *there's* pathetic))-given superpowers wreaked
upon me but there are those minimum standards we must try to meet to become
dj of the month> ... but it just won't due, my Saccharine Twist of Lime;
you've already guaranteed my continsoldierual presence -- oh, by and by, my
pretty magpie, is that just due? thought I'd ask you -- so that one(1),
two(2), or sevensixzero(760) deceaseismics (in flavo(u)r of limestone cland
escapes (please, tear yr manges-y trifle to pieces as it so richlydeserves))
all lay mightily sticky upon the plate, and I pity the day you'd have done
with; what's it must be like, drowning, with all the pretty postCaRPs in
Great Loch-down sentences as tell-no-tales come to wag yr frog in
unconscientable lamenthol bog-plans. A caveat-in of the cheating mine mine
mine: surrend to me my strawberry regretorte-feasor or I shall lose not the
subject but the brackets (e.g. as in M such that C [Darling.] H such thatB).
[Open (well, now, what else?) aside to Daniel Albatross Foss: Pears is I
understand a surname for a composituation comedies dell'arterrorist -- but,
to the point: namesake w/more albums to his name than mine (so to speak)
likewise; unmet, though in each and the Other's prayers and may be worth a
wing to that scepter'd serpent lest my causeway'd be lost: block (thentower)
on/out/over the words/world/worth and spin my [heart]'s chambers hoping the
loaded quadrant's a miss. Otherwise, I'll try Thamesing the ssssssavages
(Hit) and listing for sideways splashing (vacation from sloganeering
(peregrine prerogative (how's that [Imago] spinning, Doc?)) for rent
miscreant!) ... and may I inquire, Daniel, if your recent reappearance means
that you are once again no longer too good for all of us? Recant, recast,
either, stick it out prodigitally, maybe explain basketball (she says you're
the dreamiest), and excursion me for inclining, but quem quaeritis (my lily-
livered quandry): you've been hitched, son; given (1)she's no Osterman-
weekend revival/revile, (2)the fair to middling astute of her willingness to
buckle the chaise-lounge act, and (3)my strawmanbeds of roses co(r)pse-
strewn, what chance have I (if I wanted one (ambi-slant: "one" being chance
or "one" being one, let her sort it out, most likely with carrion carry-on
comfort After I'm Gone (alas!), all such slouching to have then disoccurred
warrants I'd warrant a certificate "unsuitable for the non-cavernous
caravans", Floyd Collins 'n' me causes celeres [sic] for the swift quick
allotment in initiation care-packages, then but forgotten-me-not blots onthe
landscape of mildewed sociological memory (Cladistic Man!, Daniel; yrs, if
you'll have him, the gross sum of assumptions in consumptive isomorphism
(viz. "epiphenomenonalism"; what the HELL is she up to?), well graphed and
grafted (Entitlement) for inunctating new Paranoids ("ya want I should give
'em the housing figures?") with plots of data that is to say if say I must
though none have so said (or she) statistics -- the likelihood of already
having been stolen from (copped parlance ("whose amalgams expounded")) --
which I'd gladly let ru(i)n my life if she'd let me), a sinecure e-spousedby
the charlatan catalyst))?]
And such lovely bottle-throwing accolades they are: sweetie pie lambykins,my
invocatives for can'thems preclude prevaricating barricades thrown steadily
by plaints of doomissions -- %I've% already exhibited tolerance enough for a
year-and-two(2)-moons, what proof deem you necessary yet -- by which I,dole,
abide, and jettison this flotsam swan-guise in m'dear's direction tosurround
you, a smoky scarecrowd to infilterate those commonplaces: I'm the
unstandably damaged-corner cereal box inadequating yr stale corn flakes, I'm
the breezy barn which houses the neurologically diseased cows providing the
milk you blithely pour, I'm the unheard writ of recall tallying the lead-
based chipped lacquer ware you eat from, I'm the tarnish you can't remove
from the silver spoon you weren't born with, I'm the inaudibly leaking gas
pipe which fails to light yr lefthand back burner without an ill-advised
matchstick -- but, best of all, I'm the song stuck in yr head ("Don't fret
about it, m'dear / I'd never be a Prince -- / If there's a way out of here /
I'd heed all clues and hints (Burma Shave!)"), the joke you don't get(Smile,
c'mon, you can do it), the cut of the figures that won't resolve (theparlure
of the test), and, not least, the Hook-Dream you consider too fanciful to
pursue. So put the pedal to the petal and I'll skim yr skin with enough
langleys to allow you to languish melodramatically: no matter, no matter,I'm
far too insol(v)ent ever to give you such an Escape Route. Sing:
Bryd one brere, brid, brid one brere,
Kynd is come of loue, loue to craue.
Blithful biryd, on me thu rewe
Or greyth, lef, greid thu me my graue.
-=M=- (ego desultor)
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