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========================================================================
Date: Thu, 4 Mar 1993 12:52:34 EST
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
From: Robert Holder <WHIPLASH>
Subject: End Construction
well this beats all. i mean, i've seen people protesting
ABORTION and CHILD ABUSE and NUCLEAR POWER, and i suppose
you can argue that they are spending their energies wisely.
i've even seen people protesting DISNEY FILMS, and i guess
i can see their point of view--how are we ever gonna stomp
the shit out of the japs with these namby-pamby role models
for our kids?! all the really QUALITY characters in the
disney films are defeated by the end of the movie! now is
THAT the message we want to be sending our young 'uns?
but today... my god, i can hardly believe it! i'm driving
down the road, and there's some commotion up ahead. large
yellow earth movers and guys standing around in orage vests.
my kind of scene. but then as i'm passing the whole thing
by, i notice that some sanctimonious dickhead with nothing
better to do than harass our dedicated Highway Department
Workers has put up a dingy orange sign that says this:
END CONSTRUCTION
now for chrissakes, what kind an attitude is this?! and it's
right where the poor guys working out there in the sun can
see it! think of how demoralizing it must be for them! they
get up in the morning with expectations of a productive,
rewarding day workin' that shovel, trying to avoid getting
run over, and maybe crack a joke or two--making the world a
better place to live in! and what do they get? some sign
stuck in their faces all day by somebody who probably hasn't
ever worked a day in their life!
makes me sick.
========================================================================
Date: Sat, 6 Mar 1993 10:25:19 -0500
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
From: GR4302
Subject: the media
Personally I've always thought the "dominant media" is pretty conservative.
Big corporations run TV, newspapers and magazines. Truly "liberal" media
doesn't get much air time. Any other comments? Is Clinton "liberal"?
GR4302
ps--please sign your notes so that the rest of the class knows who you are,
ok? thanks.
========================================================================
Date: Sat, 6 Mar 1993 10:33:00 -06
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
From: Merciful Lee Dickens <ROLLIDE@AUDUCADM.DUC.AUBURN.EDU>
Subject: Reply to the media
>GR said>
>Personally I've always thought the "dominant media" is prettyconservative.
>Big corporations run TV, newspapers and magazines. Truly "liberal"media
>doesn't get much air time. Any other comments? Is Clinton "liberal"?
>gr
>ps--please sign your notes so that the rest of the class knows who youare,
>ok? thanks.
*** Comments from MERCIFUL LEE; 03/06/93 10:31am:
We lived for days on nothing but food and water.
--- W.C. Fields
========================================================================
Date: Mon, 8 Mar 1993 09:15:30 -0500
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
From: GR4302
Subject: 300 years
In 300 years they'll be writing plays about us...
and interpretive dance. Of course there'll be
a SBRHYM-L record, which the 3 wanderers will
take with them to the Haven in the Adirondacks.
Didn't you read the book? It's in the book!
--HoleoHoleo
========================================================================
Date: Mon, 8 Mar 1993 10:29:38 EST
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
From: Robert Holder <WHIPLASH>
Subject: Flour's for Al-Anon
the media is making me sleepy. i had paid them off some
time ago, back in this shitty efficiency, with lots of time
on my hands and phone calls from dad
"everybody in The Family is working today except YOU..
...and your MOTHER, of course..."
at that time their divorce had only been going on about four
years. now it's eight years. there's alot of money involved.
what a bunch of bullshit!
after that, i got a job as a security guard. now THAT'S
fucking _funny_! you'd be surprised what kind of losers
make up the security guard ranks.
Oh YES, you would.
so anyways, there i was in this apartment, wandering Crescent Lake
park at night with my cardboard 12pack of milwaukee's best which
would get soggy from the condensation on the cans and eventually
i would have to carry it around folded in my arms so the cans
wouldn't spill everywhere and this warmed the beer up... my
favorite part was the rain in that park. the gigantic banyan
tree by the lake in the rain. there was a built-in toilet in
that tree. a walk-in affair, which stank of urine and had used
condoms and cigarette butts all over the ground which even then,
as fucked up as i was, i tried to avoid getting them all stuck
to my shoes...
if you've never seen a banyan tree, it's a huge creature, like a
house, and it has hundreds of roots hanging from the branches, and
the roots eventually reach the ground, and grow and get thicker, so
that the tree has many many trunks. sometimes these trunks grow in
such a way that you can actually walk or climb or crawl INSIDE the
tree, into little passageways and alcoves... this tree had several.
i would sit near this tree, or in it, and sometimes it would rain
and the carp would swim just under the water, like giant goldfish.
nobody much came to the park, especially at night in the rain. it
was really peaceful. it helped me forget my stupid circumstances, but
it also made me feel more lonely. what a strange time.
i still don't really know what i expected to find drunk in that
park in the rain. but i kept going, over and over, so i must have
expected to find something. i'd go in the day too. it was actually
"very nice" in the day.
mothers would bring their babies to the park in these 23rd century
looking strollers. maybe i'm PROJECTING here, but they seemed to
have a sort of calm, relaxed swagger, and they would swank their
stretched hips on over to each other by the sandbox or the water
fountain or the jungle gym and pose in their cotton floral print
sweater vests and pleated tapered wool pants and smile serenely
and they would invariably spend a few minutes looking at me on my
bench, some hundred or so feet away, talking, not moving their heads,
with these big fake smiles. sometimes i would give them a little
wave, and they would look away slowly, maybe shaking their heads
a little bit.
here's what i thought about those women: apparently they feel great
pride in being mothers. they love their kids, and they are going to
raise their kids right, for a change. they have a very no-nonsense
attitude about anything that doesn't facilitate the raising of their
kids. if it doesn't obviously help them somehow
in the process of them bearing children and raising them, they view
it with a stern eye. i think they are overestimating their importance.
any man can squirt out some semen, and any woman can hatch out a baby,
provided they have all the right plumbing. i don't resent them. i
think their serene smiles are wonderful. i'm sure they are going to be
good mothers, at least some of them are. but the thing that really got
me about them, what really got me to realize that i have no respect for
them at all just because they are mothers, is i just kept thinking "What
the fuck were you thinking bringing another kid into this world?"
i imagine that whatever they thought about me, it was equally
uncomplementary.
there was this high school teacher i was seeing, sort of. she was getting
sick of me though, so it was sort of winding down. i don't remember the
order of things very well from that time. but she and i would go by the
lake and spread out a blanket and drink this B&G Beaujolais Nouveauwhich,
regardless of how affected it sounds, was good that year, and hasn't really
been since. and we'd drink and listen to music and make out and the old
couples would walk by and most of them would glare at us and a few would
smile. i liked her very much because she didn't give a fuck about what
anybody thought. actually, she got off on their disapproval, so i guess
she did give a fuck what they thought.
then this chick moved in next door who was in "recovery" in AA and was doing
the meetings, and was a cleaning girl. she would go into timeshared condos
and apartment complexes and stuff and clean them out. she worked for some
service. she was really pretty and friendly but a little wary too. as with
all AA people, she was very free with the details of why she had given up
drinking and drugs. she told shocking stories and obviously disapproved of
her past conduct very much. i'd tell you the rest, but it's boring and a
little depressing. she ended up thinking i was completely full of shit, but
she did (last i heard, this was 4 years ago) end up with this guy who seemed
OK, and she seemed to like him quite a bit. she ended up posing for some
swimsuit calender, and made herself a little extra bucks, and about then i
got my first programming job and bolted the fuck outta there.
i'm sorry, you were saying something about the right or left-wingedness of
the media?
rob
========================================================================
Date: Mon, 8 Mar 1993 11:03:51 -0500
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
From: DAN MORONE <LPD5002 >
Subject: tether-ball
The tether ball pole was in the playground behind National Little
League. It was behind the right field fence, the one that was
twice as high as the others because right was shallow. Most of
the other kids didn't think it was such a good idea to put a match to the
rows of cottonwood fluff that had accumulated, windswept into rows and
piles around the fences and on the edges of the muddy path. But, man,
you should have seen that stuff burn., especially at night. Whoosh!
Fire would tear down the rows, a ripped seam between here and somewhere
else, leaving only scorched seeds in its wake. I never liked the stupid
painted animals that were mounted on huge springs. Sproingy, sproingy,
sproingy, big deal. Didn't get in much trouble there, the cherry bombs
couldn't make much of a hole in the dugout wall.
========================================================================
Date: Tue, 9 Mar 1993 17:37:00 GMT
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
From: strangler <H.UNIATZ>
Subject: RE: Flour's for Al-Anon
ad breaks into a run, Robert, no longer sleepy but with a looping
motion. follow it with your eyes. your screen never watched you and
it's not going to start bothering with you now. the imponderability!
left a bit, we want your profile. don't pin anything on the media caring,
it's unfelted.
i'm not proud of you, son. your MOTHER may be, but I sure am not. four,
four more, and another four years in lingering lassitude, as you lower
still for heinous misdemeanours stoop to pay in ragged repentance for them
all, undiscerned. it's pure spite. what right have you to describeanything
that happens to you as being in any manner whatsoever related to yourself?
your miscreant whims. i'll pay you to leave it alone. i smiled at you
from that surveillance camera, smiled as you broke the glass, smiled as you
stabbed me, hey, what were you doing keeping the peaches in the haberdashery
section, your dreams sliding down the cap's peak and splashing on the
regulation shirt? you were a good security guard.
Robert? give it up. i would not. you can't make me. maybe you did shoot
the sheriff, honest, we believe you, don't start, but did you shoot Cubensis
down? ah. i like you, Robert, but i did not write this, nor that. there
will be no end of your own creation other than in self-delusion, and, yes,
this morning, when you were not sure, when they whispered as you passed,
they meant -- damned if they haven't upped the price of creme eggs again
this year. Uh, Robert, hello.
mld
========================================================================
Date: Thu, 11 Mar 1993 02:16:41 -0500
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
From: GR4302
Subject: I Zero In
I Zero In
I zero in on focus
To the notion that perhaps
An onion has a kernel anyway
Too subtle for the eye or tongue
An atmospheric texture, suspended scent--
A sea! That says
The irony of each
Succeeding layer
Is indeed the
Center of the
Eye--
I-- I see
Me!
gr4302
========================================================================
Date: Thu, 11 Mar 1993 02:40:06 -0500
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
From: GR4302
Subject: Holeo Holee-oh (final stretch) To Be Read Aloud in PublicPlaces:
Holeo Holee-oh
Holeo Holee-oh is a piggly wiggly woo
I'm set for a holer bet without my tiddly too
I scroot for my samberbun my hortly chortly wander one
And toot for the golden sun alight with morning's mourning
Amen to Holeo Holee-oh
Amen to the Human wiggly woggly
Stickly with a diggly doggly
Early in the morning
Ahmen!
--by gr4302, who doth vouschafe its spiritual efficacy
========================================================================
Date: Tue, 16 Mar 1993 11:59:26 -0500
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
From: GR4302
Subject: the invisible 102 (forwarding to zoo)
the invisible 102
not by william s burroughs but us as his ghost
when we don't look into issues that we don't understand we
tend to playback what we hear this is a powerful tool for
propoganda if you could hear what you were going to say
before you actually said it you might decide it isn't a good
thing to say it seemed as if burrows rambled on on the
subject beating it to death if we listen to how childish and
irrelavent our arguments are we wouldn't argue because it
would be petty this type of thinking reminds me of a kid when i
first starting using drugs it has to be violent bloody and tragic
if it's going to make front page in today's society an example
of this is that history repeats itself this concept can be used to
splice and create a good basis for a well rounded lifestyle
where you can visualize yourself for who you are and how to
validate yourself while i study the cat just sits there she
doesn't think the reason we do not see the messages is that
we do not take the time to look past the show-biz to the real
story to record what they were going to say to someone or
what they were going to do at a particular time it's hard for me
to understand everything the part where he talked about
marijuana did not fit in and who cares about that whole
paragraph anyway the key to combatting ignorance is
knowledge and we all have a responsibility to educate
ourselves it seems we only remember what we want too you
can tape your sounds and revise what was wrong i was
impressed but then i finally understood the main point was the
author when he stated that anyone with a tape recorder
controlling the sound track my personal thoughts have also
changed his essay seems what he was trying to say i
concluded stop arguing stop complaining stop talking let the
machines talk and argue for you i would process so much
information at once and so fast we can also misinterpret what
someone says before the conclusion brought it all into
perspective i believe this whole article was about
communication that we are all individuals capable of thinking
for ourselves and when we let other people think for us we
lose that individuality
========================================================================
Date: Tue, 16 Mar 1993 13:47:00 -06
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
From: Merciful Lee Dickens <DICKENS>
Subject: Reply to the invisible 102 (
Knowing your proclivities at
the intersection of Foss and Holder,
*** Comments from HIS MAJESTY; 03/16/93 01:00pm:
At the intersection of Foss and Holder...
Gadzooks, I love it!
Where the tarmac meets the meathook
crabwise slewn
these human tumbleweeds
and Christmas lights strung everywhere
I'll push a cart and yell my own obsequies
at each new passerby
This reminds me of a time, years ago, when I was driving through
Mississippi.
Shall I go on?
Well, it was summertime and the van windows were down. We passed this
wild SWAMPMAN on the side of the road who was up on top of his flatbed
with a megaphone, preaching a scathing fire-and-brimstone, foaming at
the mouth, Cotton Mather kind of broadside salvo at the traffic passing
on that little two-lane highway. It was such an intense spectacle,
such an Old Testament type of thing in its own twisted splendor, that
we pulled over and got out to listen to him.
"Go right ahead, SINNERS, go right ahead on your MERRY WAY TO HELL!"
That was my personal favorite. He was pointing a cane at the cars and
screaming this between bursts of signifying and prophesying. It was
glorious. He made a huge fuss, sputtering like a King James version
of King Hell Despair, all screech and skitter and scorn, eyeballs red
and shuddering squirmy reptilian all-points brainstem bulletin MAYDAY
MAYDAY EMERGENCY DANGER OVERLOAD THIS BABY'S GONNA BLOW and could he
but call down fire from the skies, Baby, believe me this time: he would
of most certainly done just that and gladly, too, to be shut of us
Godless heathen abominations et cetera et cetera et cetera until the
novelty of it all wore off and, realizing we were running late, we got
back on our merry way to hell...
And, by the way, I got your proclivities right here, Parker, you
squirming toad.
Cube
Brooking No Insubordination
Since 1992
========================================================================
Date: Tue, 16 Mar 1993 14:50:19 EST
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
From: General Squirming Toad <LIBALP >
Subject: Re: Reply to the invisible 102 (
In-Reply-To: Message of Tue,
16 Mar 1993 13:47:00 -06 from <DICKENS>
On Tue, 16 Mar 1993 13:47:00 -06 Merciful Lee Dickens said:
>Knowing your proclivities at
>the intersection of Foss and Holder,
>
>*** Comments from HIS MAJESTY; 03/16/93 01:00pm:
>
>At the intersection of Foss and Holder...
>Gadzooks, I love it!
>
>Shall I go on?
>
>And, by the way, I got your proclivities right here, Parker, you
>squirming toad.
>
>Cube
>Brooking No Insubordination
>Since 1992
Yeah, well, since you're obviously in mortal psychological danger yerownself,
I'll just share a little something I saw in the window of this
Sino-Mexican restaurant right next door to that place where we got drunk
that time. The sign says: "Depressed? We've got a solution. Try our
Chocolate Suicide!"
"Sino-Mexican Restaurants Ltd., not to be confused with Hong's House of
Hot Dogs, located on Piedmont Rd., Atlanta, where they've been putting the
"dog" back in "hot dog" since 1989."
ap
========================================================================
Date: Wed, 17 Mar 1993 09:27:01 EST
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
From: Robert Holder <WHIPLASH>
Subject: When the Waters Were Changed
Once upon a time Khidr, the Teacher of Moses, called upon
mankind with a warning. At a certain date, he said, all
the water in the world which had not been specially hoarded,
would disappear. It would then be renewed, with different
water, which would drive men mad.
Only one man listened to the meaning of this advice. He
collected water and went to a secure place where he stored
it, and waited for the water to change its character.
On the appointed date the streams stopped running, the
wells went dry, and the man who had listened, seeing this
happening, went to his retreat and drank his preserved
water.
When he saw, from his security, the waterfalls again
beginning to flow, this man descended among the other sons
of men. He found that they were thinking and talking in an
entirely different way from before; yet they had no memory
of what had happened, nor of having been warned. When he
tried to talk to them, he realized that they thought that
he was mad, and they showed hostility or compassion, not
understanding.
At first he drank none of the new water, but went back to
his concealment, to draw on his supplies, every day. Finally,
however, he took the decision to drink the new water because
he could not bear the loneliness of living, behaving and
thinking in a different way from everyone else. He drank the
new water, and became like the rest. Then he forgot all about
his own store of special water, and his fellows began to look
upon him as a madman who had miraculously been restored to
sanity.
-- Sufi Fable FABLE! FABLE!!!
DAMMIT!!!
i'll attribute the author tommorrow, from Idries Shah's
compilation "Tales of the Dervishes".
========================================================================
Date: Wed, 17 Mar 1993 10:09:00 -06
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
From: Merciful Lee Dickens <DICKENS>
Subject: Reply to Reply to the invisib
*** Original Author: SBRHYM-L @ SUNYSB - ** Remote User **; 03/17/93 05:36
>Date: Wed, 17 Mar 1993 05:28:17 CST
>Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@CCVM.sunysb.edu>
>From: Merciful Lee Dickens <DICKENS>
>Subject: Reply to Reply to the invisible 102(
>X-To: sbrhym-l@ccvm.sunysb.edu
>To: Multiple recipients of list SBRHYM-L<SBRHYM-L@CCVM.sunysb.edu>
>
>
(See, Dan? It's not just you. I'll hassle anybody that dares raise his
or her mishapen head, prairie doglike in all innocent quizzicality,
for the sport the lopping off thereof provides a random son of a bitch such
as myself.)
Cube.
***Comments from DECLARED BANKRUPT IN '92, WAR IN '93; 03/17/93 05.34am
You great overweening lout. On your knees, my lad, and beg pardon.
There'll be no candy fluffy chickens for you if I catch you bullying
again.
Cube.
*** Comments from THE REAL CUBE; 03/17/93 10:08am:
I didn't write that, but I'll stand by it to the day you die.
========================================================================
Date: Thu, 18 Mar 1993 19:52:38 -0400
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
From: deb of the jungle <SIEGEL52 >
Subject: the sane man
a sane man lives in a small room down the hall. he sleeps on the floor. once
i went to visit him and he drew a circle around himself. it wasnt a perfect
circle, but it was a line that jagged out in some areas and was smooth insome
areas and eventually ended up connecting with itself. he said, pointing to
himself, this is where i am. he said, pointing to me, this is where i amnot.
when the sane man went for a walk the circle moved with him. i never didfigure
out how he managed to stay within the line. sometimes when the sane man was
walking, one of the jagged areas would poke into somebody and they wouldlaugh.
he made many friends this way. one time a girl tried to get inside the line
to the place where he was. she bumped into a smooth area and slid right off
it. she kept doing it over and over but slid right off it. then she managed
to get a jagged area. she laughed but she didnt get in to the place where he
was.
the sane man has a collection of mirrors which he puts on his linesometimes.
he places them with the shiny side facing towards where he is not.
once when i was visiting him, a large man came into the small room and began
to talk. he talked and he talked and he talked. suddenly the large mannoticed
a mirror with the shiny side facing towards him and stopped talking. hestopped
talking. i asked the sane man later why he placed the mirrors with the shiny
side facing towards where he is not. he just laughed as if he had been pokedby
one of his own jagged areas.
i visit the sane man who lives in the small room and sleeps on the floor
often. ive even begun to draw my own line, though it is mostly smooth. ithink
it must take time to draw the jagged areas.
========================================================================
Date: Fri, 19 Mar 1993 16:54:14 EST
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
From: Robert Holder <WHIPLASH>
Subject: the vipers are coming for me...
...so this hasta be short
or maybe not. it all depends on the vipers
and don't knock melodrama. melodrama can giveya lotsa
raw sweetness when ya knead it.
if the vocabulary is insufficient you can invent a new
one but there's nobody to speak it to and you end up
advising people who don't give a shit about the finer
points of refining vocabulary to your own ends and if you
are lucky you have moments of grace like when i knock
back a couple of bud lights at the local college pub
contrary to my wife's most earnest wishes which i try to
honor but this sunlight keeps insisting and also the women's
hips
everywhere
i'm stuck between being unimpressed with all this advanced
science and culture and being unable to shoot myself...
i keep thinking somebody will come along.
everybody is afraid to get involved with everybody else
because of the bullshit involved so we all end up eagerly
following the pre-scripted lives... it looks that way...
maybe i'm wrong! maybe you are all lit up with satisfaction
and fulfillment.
ah, thank god for computers. they have given us so much new
ability. they have really changed the way we interact. they
have rearranged the way we record and refer to information.
i keep hearing this whispering of this woman in my ear
she says, "kiss me in the shadow of doubt"
but she is very far away.
here, listen to this.
"lydia"
========================================================================
Date: Fri, 19 Mar 1993 17:29:08 CST
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
From: death-rattle of a goldfish <ejusdem@RABILIOUS.EDU>
Subject: What manner of viper?
Robert, I must have a word with you. You do remember that while "She
was significant," "I'm insane"? Perhaps you might consider what your
wife has asked of you. Your wife, whom you betrothed, out of some
need presumably to stay up all night alongside reading Bukowski and
playing your music much too loud so that the neighbors come down and
pound loudly on the door warning that they're more than prepared to
call the police, obviously concerns herself with your well-being.
Are you a mean drunk, Robert?
Just some words of advice from a satisfied and fulfilled friend.
========================================================================
Date: Fri, 19 Mar 1993 18:53:33 EST
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
From: Robert Holder <WHIPLASH>
Subject: gee
yeah, you're right. i forgot.
thanks,
rob
========================================================================
Date: Tue, 23 Mar 1993 02:32:46 -0500
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
From: GR4302
Subject: No Acknowledgment, No Life, No Credit Cards
You come in funny shades of blue
The gray you make my eyes see through
Tells me there's something wrong with you
I think I wanna try to live the country life
Fill my head with buzzing honey-bee joys
But I can't find a way to ditch this city strife
The heavy scenes and motorhead boys
I know I wanna to take it to the heighest height
Plug my head into the top of the sky
But I can't seem to break out of my Saturday night
Can't seem to stop my life flying by
You come in funky shades of green
I'm thinking I could try in between
Let's drop it all and blow this scene
========================================================================
Date: Wed, 24 Mar 1993 17:15:09 EST
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
From: Robert Holder <WHIPLASH>
Subject: you're the voice of the dream i had
cranky.
"i left... and the birds stayed singing."
-GENARRO
when you go to the same bar every day for lunch, you begin to
recognize the other regulars. there are two construction workers
at the bar i go to i recognize who always come in together
who are old and wizened looking and redtan although i know from
my past experience with construction workers in bars not to
approach them for any fraternal contact because they ended up
waving a pool que in my face last time. of course, there was
a shapely girl in the mix. how was i to know? she was only
my girl friend and the fact that i had been away for a month
only added that sauce for the goose... cheating at pool is what
they accused me of... i got out of there pretty quick, and the
other locals jeered.
but that was years ago, eh rabilious? forget it. life continues.
meet my officemate marshall. he has a splendidly philisophical
view of life. i like marshall. he just got his degree and has
been studying coral growth for about a year here with one of the
scientists. he's ok. you all would like him.
now what did i come here to say? something about airports and
leather collars and metal detectors going off and me shooting
everybody a bird. typical indescriminate antisocial behaviour
on my part. ok, let's get this out of the way rabilious, because
your message has been nagging at me since i read it.
(i wonder what the value of this is, but here i am...) when janice
dies, i die the same day (janice is my wife to whom you refer).
when she dies, that's it. now remember this is all fiction, so
you can't report me to anybody. i'm just a very creative person.
i'm fabricating an alternate life here for my own amusement. and
if i say that if she gets in a car accident or something and i get
a little telephone call from the highway patrol or a close friend,
and then i say that i go out and pick up a shotgun (no waiting
period--defeat it in detail) you have no recourse to baker act me.
dirty uncontrollable antisocial misfit. get with the program, eh?
what about american culture? you're disturbing all these nice
people. you're ruining your future! you know, this is all going
down on your permanent record. and artistically, you're boring the
hell out of everybody. they've all seen this shit a thousand times
before in art crit.
well, buddy, you asked about my wife. so here it is.
and my message is, my wife is my life. so if you want to tell me
to remember my wife, you're gonna have to set up a cot in the back
room and live with us. you don't know our situation.
but let me tell you, i'm not hiding behind any fucking smiley face,
or some vague language. this is me. maybe i'm an ugly person, but
i'm not disguising myself to look prettier than i am. if you want
clever provacative messages which titillate you, then screen me out!
god this is fucking TEDIOUS! but YOU ASKED. you said "i must have
a word with you whiplash", and you said it in this room. so here's
the reply...
"oooh robert your angst, it drives me wild, don't stop" etc.
but that doesn't make it go away. so i'm stuck here. i can be quiet,
but i get the impression i can say what i want here, and this is what
i want to say. i keep thinking i'll find something to help me. so
come on you old timers! what have you learned? give it to me!
well, that's my miserable little contribution to the "literary
underground" today.
sex and beauty,
robert holder
========================================================================
Date: Wed, 24 Mar 1993 17:47:55 EST
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
From: Robert Holder <WHIPLASH>
Subject: about my officemate
i just wanted to say that i wasn't being sarcastic
about my officemate marshall. he really is a very
cool interesting person and i do think you all would
like him.
SORRY, thanks for bearing with me about marshall.
glad i could make your day!
your pal,
rob
========================================================================
Date: Thu, 25 Mar 1993 11:45:04 EST
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
From: Robert Holder <WHIPLASH>
Subject: Checking Out of Hotel Reality
"ring... ring... ring..."
uhnnn. what time is it?
"ring..."
shit. my head hurts.
"Hello?"
"Good morning sir, you requested a 6:30 a.m. wake up call."
"Yeah, OK, thanks."
"Have a nice day sir."
wow, she had a sexy voice. but she sounded kind of bitchy. hey, it's
only 6:20! i could sleep for ten more minutes. maybe i'll just lay
here a minute... just rest... just for a minute more....
"ring... ring..."
"Hello?"
"Sir, you requested a wake up call. It's time for you to get up, sir.
Get up, get out of bed, get in the shower, get your things packed.
Check out time is at 7 a.m. The police have notified us that they are
expecting some local flooding today, so you should be aware of it.
And I want to tell you that you were very good last night. You really
satisfied me. I haven't had it like that in a long time.... Goodbye
sir."
"click."
huh! so it was her! no wonder i recognized that voice. actually i
guess i didn't really. she sounds different over the phone. she sure
puts you to sleep better than she wakes you up.
ok, gotta get the old eyeballs workin'. let's see if i can crack my
lower back.
"crack."
ahhh, oh that's better, that's great! ok. now let me just swing my legs
over. wait, ok i've taken the covers off. chilly. no, i've got to get
all the covers off. off my feet, everything. ok, now maybe i'll just put
those covers down at the foot of the bed... no, here on the side, next to
me, that's better. ok, there they are. now they're ready, i can reach them
ok, that's fine. let me just see if i can get 'em back on quick, if i need
to. swoosh! ok! yep, that works great. ok, now i'll get 'em off me, and
i'll be out in the air. ok, good! and they're scrunched up just like
before. there they are. let's see, with my eyes closed, yep! got 'em.
ok, now i'm ready.
here we go, swing the legs up and OVER and down, push UP with the old arms,
POW POW POW, oh i feel a little dizzy. the floor feels so solid! it feels
almost like it's pushing up against me. that can't be right. am i feeling
that? nah, maybe it's just my circulation. wiggle the toes, rub the soles
over each other, that's much better. well, i still feel it. oh well. it's
just gonna do that today i guess. ok.
the bathroom. it's always so silent in here. god, is that me? i can't
believe that's me. well, i mean, i don't really know what i expect i should
look like. that doesn't really seem wrong or anything. it's just, itdoesn't
seem possible that i'm _that_. looking in my eyes doesn't help. not very
reassuring. it seems like looking in the eyes, you'd get a little sort of
reassurance or some kind of friendliness or something. it doesn't reallyfeel
like friendliness when you do it to yourself. with other people, it still
misses but there's _something_ there. but alone it just seems empty. noteven
empty, just kind of like passing the top step on the stairs, like if you're
reading while your walking up 'em, and you pass that top stair and then goto
take another step up, and there's no step, so you miss and stumble. that
feeling of something being there but nothing underneath. it's differentfrom
empty because empty doesn't have anything there in the first place. i don't
know. it's weird anyway. i'll just avoid looking at myself. well, but,damn!
i'm not _afraid_ or anything, for chrissakes, ok just look! look right inthe
mirror! yeah. ok.
well, shit this is going nowhere. yeah, avoiding the mirror was a goodidea.
go with your instincts. you gotta trust those instincts when you get outwhere
there's no map or guide or whatever, so you better get plenty of practicenow.
i'm shitting. i'm showering. shaving. it's all so simple, so clear, oknext
i'm going to put on deodorant, brush my teeth and then i'll walk out intothe
closet and pick some clothes. god it's so easy this way! i'll just keepthis up.
making plans, and using my memory, i know what's going on that way. the memories
are really good for this. there's some problems there, the memories, some drawbacks
but for this they're really good. you get a really good idea of whathappens next
this way. they have some drawbacks though. definitely there's someproblems
with the unbidden stuff. it's funny; i'm using my memory to tell me thatusing
my memory has some drawbacks! now that's funny.
shit! you're getting away from it, damn! already! it was going so well.ok,
well, i can remember how it went. plans. ok, yeah, i can feel it again. simple,
everything is just creatures and drives and stuff. ok, here we go.toothbrush.
deodorant. closet, clothes. i like these clothes. no, this shirt here is better.
just do it, get it done. ok, dressed, snazzy, everythings copacetic! i'm rollin'!
packing. go through the drawers. that's done. check the bathroom. that's done.
the night table. the balcony. i'm making so much progress. this is goingto be
a great day. ok i've got my stuff. i'm cleaned and dressed. it's 6:50.i'm at
the door. i've got my hand on the knob. what a great day. i'm turning the knob.
"click."
========================================================================
Date: Mon, 29 Mar 1993 09:40:00 -0500
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
From: GR4302
Subject: over the hills and down the valleys
hey i got an idea lets make things just about as complicated as possible
makes things impossible even i mean who needs things anyway thingness just
gets my butt tangled i'll take a pill instead and dream of a new world where
we all create it part and parcel as we go it's like plumbling mentalplumbing
no strings attached just pressures and resolutions and always remembering to
keep it flushed for fear of painful buildups six glasses a day and a healthy
shake of rhetoric with the nightly fiber laxative and a warm cup of milk
maypole syrup, no way, way, made a face, held no crybabies up for political
kisses kiss asses kiss my ass kiss me quick judas et tu brute ate youbrutally
and came up with thick sweet syrup on swollen hands and a nightmare of fun,eh?
that's how they stick it to you. yeah. ok.
========================================================================
Date: Tue, 30 Mar 1993 14:37:39 -0500
Sender: SUNY/Stony Brook Literary Underground<SBRHYM-L@SBCCVM.BITNET>
From: GR4302
Subject: Juicy Slugs
We've had a good harvest of slugs here this late spring (which it is,
at this latitude). They seem to be quite immune to beer; several seem
to be thriving on it. Perhaps Pavel's strawberries would be more
appropriate for them. We stood over the sorry slimebags and told them
to writhe south by west until the smell of chicken livers deepens
and settles unpleasantly.
The point is, we have a surplus, and Fat Mike isn't buying because
you've sent all yours to Washington. Some of 'em are as big as
chickens, and taste like it too (doesn't everything?). Yas, fraad
chi'in 'n clearcuts! What a Ouch-ita wattashed needs mo' than pigs
with human genes need bloodless castration -- it's super!
Hurry up . . . it's time!
Ozark Miljoepartiet
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