186 lines
9.1 KiB
Plaintext
186 lines
9.1 KiB
Plaintext
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= F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. =
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Solitude Standing
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"I dunno.. I haven't heard from him in two weeks."
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"Yeah, me neither. Well, email here and there, but nothing
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else really."
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"Think he is alright? I mean, he used to hang out all the
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time with us.."
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"I dunno.. wanna give him a call?"
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"He hasn't answered his phone in two weeks. Hasn't returned
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any pages either I don't think. Julie said he didn't return
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her pages..."
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"Guess he isn't talking to anyone."
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- day -
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11:02a on the status bar. An hour and a half had passed and
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he had already sent 62 pieces of email to 47 people in 4 countries.
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He pressed 'x' and the screen replied "deleting 400, keeping 130".
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The mail he considered important had been replied to, mail that would
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take more effort to reply to left for the afternoon.
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- break -
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10:44p on the status bar. He had no idea how many pieces of
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mail he had sent over the day. Well over two hundred; not that it
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mattered, but it was amusing keeping track. Another day had passed
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without leaving the apartment. What was that.. three days?
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- day -
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He woke up at 1:13pm and lay in bed for 10 minutes relaxing.
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His cat had jumped on the bed and lay across one of his arms, repeatedly
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nudging his shoulder. Smiling, he reached over with his free arm and
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scratched the cat on the neck. "I'll feed you in a few minutes, son."
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Climbing out of bed he tried to shake off the fatigue he felt. Another
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day of three hours of sleep. He reminded himself to look up the exact
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definition of insomnia later that day.
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The shower hadn't even warmed up before the phone rang; the
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eighth time that morning. He let it ring a second time to ensure
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caller ID information had passed, then picked up with a quick 'hello'.
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"Yes, I just woke up.."
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"No, I haven't read my email.. someone's at the door, I'll
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call you later."
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He slammed the phone down in disgust. Just because he slept
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at different hours of the day did not mean he was lazy. Each night
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he slept four hours less than most of his 'friends', yet got nothing
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but shit about his sleeping schedule. Fuck them. They wonder why
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he didn't want to talk to them? If they can't show simple understanding
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about such a simple thing as sleeping schedule, how could they understand
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anything else going on in his mind.. his life? Obviously, they couldn't.
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Still disgusted, he climbed in the shower.
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- break -
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"Lets see.. new Fiona single, Portishead, Ani, new KMFDM, and
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5th Element soundtrack. How does that sound kid?"
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His cat looked up at him with an almost quizicle look. Its
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not like the cat would ever respond, despite a cat having over one
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hundred distinct vocal sounds. However, the cat appeared to understand
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the gist of what he said, and loved the attention. 'shuffle'; 'play',
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and he closed the glass door on the stereo cabinet. Back to the computer
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to catch up on email and news.
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As he sat down he leaned back to think for a minute. He debated
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on having his phone line turned off. He didn't use the phone much at all
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as it was, and he had the two ISDN channels which could double as a voice
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line. That would just make it so no one could call in.. not a bad thing
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overall. Or would cancelling his pager be a better thing. These days
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he didn't get paged much, and those that did never paged with a code
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so he could recognize the number. That left a handful of random numbers
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each week, 20% of which he recognized and returned.
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He looked over and his son let out a single meow. "Yeah, I'll
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decide later."
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- week -
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Aside from family, only his ex had remembered his birthday.
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She even bought him a present on top of lunch. He didn't really
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care about his birthday, as it meant very little. But the action of
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at least remembering it would have been nice, especially from the
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various friends he did favors for. 'Get this info for me', or 'can you
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pick up this', sometimes 'can I borrow ten bucks'. Didn't matter what
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they asked, it was all a lot less than what they did for him. But
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he was used to it, and expected for them to forget.
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Along with that expectation came the desire to distance
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himself. Like many things, it was the principal behind it, not the
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actions (or lack thereof) themselves. Perception is everything.
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- day -
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"He posted to a mail list the other night, but hasn't answered
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my mail yet. I don't know what's up with him."
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"Hrm. I called him a few times over the past days and only
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got his machines. He isn't answering pages either. Wonder
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if he is ok.."
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"What a dick.. ignoring pages like that."
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- day -
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The more time passed, the less reason he could find to stay in
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touch with the people he used to call friends. It amazed him that they
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would drop by unexpectedly, hang out for hours on end watching TV and
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drinking his liquor, but when they hadn't heard from him for a week,
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they would barely try to reach him. Because of his current shift in
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daily routine, he had drug a patch cord out to the living room so he
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could stay online but watch TV or a movie instead of listening to the
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stereo.
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As before, he loved getting email, but even that had changed.
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He eagerly anticipated getting mail from a handful of people, and barely
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opened his eyes to sort the other hundred pieces from mail lists.
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On his list were a few local people he still cared for. Others included
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a friend from New York, someone he had never met from the 'MidWest',
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a handful of young 'students' he was helping in various areas, and
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one or two other random people that wrote with great infrequency.
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Despite the lack of physical contact, or voice communication,
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he felt closer to those people than most others. He wondered what the
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chances of compatibility were in each person he mailed. Some cases in
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the past taught him that meeting over the net was not a way to meet
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compatible people, while sometimes it proved to work out just fine.
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No clue on what dictated that characteristic or if there was a way
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to determine it up front. Not like he had to meet any of them or force
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the issue either. Just curiosity.
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- day -
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More problems plagued him now than ever before. Not the amount,
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but how much they weighed on his tired soul. As always, the people that
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claimed to care about him could barely read him, let alone understand
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him. It was a known element in his life, and expected. Why he put up
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with them was beyond him but his own desire for contact and friendship
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was still there.
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The road ahead was unpaved at best, littered with unmarked turns
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and more than enough potholes. No matter how he tried to look ahead,
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no matter how he tried to figure out how to get a map, the more obscured
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his path became. Sometimes he wished destiny or fate would give him
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a hint as to where to go, other times he didn't believe in either. Days
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passed where flipping a coin to determine change in life seemed a pretty
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damn good method of choosing. Others he was content to sit back and
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enjoy the solitude of his domicile, content with the world passing him
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by.
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- break -
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Whatever happened, he could only rely on where the day takes
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him.
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d1s
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=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
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= Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions =
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= Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) =
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= To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with =
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= "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back =
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= issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. =
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=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
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= AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK =
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= FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids =
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= FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK =
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= FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK =
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= WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho =
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= http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html =
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= http://www.simunye.com/fuck =
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= http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck =
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= (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. =
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