227 lines
9.3 KiB
Plaintext
227 lines
9.3 KiB
Plaintext
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OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO oOOOO OOOO. OOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
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OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" .OOOOOO OOOOOo OOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
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OOOO oOOOOOOO OOOOOOO. OOOO oOOOO
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OOOO .OOOO OOOO OOOOOOOOo OOOO OOOO"
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OOOO oOOOO OOOO OOOO "OOOO. OOOO OOOOo .OOOO'
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OOOO .OOOO" OOOO OOOO OOOOoOOOO "OOOO. oOOOO
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OOOO oOOOOOOO..OOOO OOOO "OOOOOOO OOOOoOOOO"
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OOOO .OOOO"""OOOOOOOO OOOO OOOOOO "OOOOOOO'
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OOOO oOOOO ""OOOO OOOO "OOOO OOOOOO
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| There Ain't No Justice |
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| #22 |
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|-----------------------------------------------------------------------------|
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- Going Crazy in the Suburbs 02: Relationships -
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by Hairy Leech
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the thing i can't stand about writing tanj files is that i always end up
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deleting things. i don't think it's possible for me to just sit down,
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think, and write a tanj file. it just dosen't work. i can sit down, think,
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and write. fine. but if i convince myself i'll submit it as a tanj at
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first, i can't write. i end up writing a page or two, then deleting it.
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"i think you know how far i'll go.."
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too bright in here. i need darkness. darkness and the hazy blur of smoke
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from incense.
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"if you're not careful, you're going to hurt yourself.."
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candles: lit incense: smoldering music : loud and offensive coke :
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nearby
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there's this great rush of happiness that comes to you when you find
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someone that cares about you, how you are, what you do, someone who would
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care if you dropped off the end of the world one day. better than a drug,
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i'll say. not that i know. drugs aren't my things. never have been. no
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matter.
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anyhow, the feeling is great. it makes life worth living all of the sudden.
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but it dosen't change anything else. the problems are still there, they're
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just all blurry, unclear.. you can't see them as well because you aren't
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looking at them every day. you see a man getting spat on in the street, and
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you think "gee, i'm glad that's not me. at least someone cares about me."
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the event dosen't register. if you're alone it slaps you in the face,
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because you could see yourself getting spat on. easy. simple.
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so relationships are a drug, a crutch, blinders.
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not to put down relationships. i enjoy being cared about. having someone
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who isn't related to you tell you they love you is something that is.. it's
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impossible to describe. nothing wrong with feeling good. nothing at all.
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just so long as you don't let it rot your brain.
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"something wonderful.."
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i work with a gay man and i enjoy it.
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i remember when i was a child, they always told me to set goals for myself.
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i never did. maybe i should start.
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go listen to a song called "hard times" by fresh bush and the invisible
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man. it's.. yeah.
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strange to sit and think that i'll end up living my life and probably never
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be fulfilled. sort of makes me lose interest in living. no reason to live
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if there's no fulfillment waiting at the end of it all.
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now don't go getting the wrong idea. i'm not going to do myself in. not at
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all. i've crossed that bridge already.
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they say i'm sick, and maybe they're right. then again, maybe they're
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wrong. maybe they are. maybe they're too damned busy examining me to see
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their own faults. maybe they're too busy perfecting their use of the
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scalpel to see who they're butchering. maybe to use an old phrase, they
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can't see the wood for the trees.
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maybe.. just maybe.. this society is really as blind as it appears..
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probably..
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i wish someone could understand what i write. alas, it never happens.
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remember my first tanj? hmm? sure, it was funny in a way. but there were
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serious bits to it. i remember someone made some comment about it, took it
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as a big joke. it's just so.. frustrating.
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lack of incense.
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i often wonder how my life would have turned out if i hadn't moved to the
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big old modern north. i suppose i'd be some hick goober riding around on a
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tractor wearing over-all's, chewing tobacco, and spitting in a coffee can.
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my father told my mother she'd turn me into a scrawny geeky queer if she
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took me to the north. i wonder what dear old "dad" would say now.. i
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wonder.
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i wonder how people can abuse their own families. sexually, physically,
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mentally..
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"you've run out of lies.."
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dad never drank. dad never used to smoke. dad was naturally a fucking vile
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monster, he didn't need drugs to help him any.
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grew up in a big house. 12' ceilings in the living room. no insulation. big
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old rotten falling-down house in the middle of a swamp, almost. right next
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to a highway.
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i used to lay on the floor, when the cockroaches weren't down there, and
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look up at the ceiling. you could see the sky in some spots.
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big tin roof.
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i remember one summer a swarm of bees found a hole in the side of the
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house, they made a hive in the wall. i could lie in my bed at night and
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hear them buzzing, buzzing..
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mom & dad slept on hospital beds.
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i remember the stop-light my brother had.
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i remember the snakes that would come into the house.
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nothing quite like living in the south.
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"new last rights.. look what we have done.."
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i remember the lack of attention my father paid to me. i was just a thing.
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he told me only a couple of things, "yea," "no," "i reckon," and "go ask
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your mother." not much else.
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i used to sit and watch him count out over $400 a night. he owned his own
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business.
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i used to sit and watch and listen when mom came and asked him for money to
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buy groceries. mom didn't work. he would give her a $20 and say he didn't
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have any more.
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let's do a head-count. 5 children + 2 parents = 7 people. $20 per week for
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7 people just dosen't do it.
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i ate a lot of maccaroni and cheese. and peanut butter sandwiches.
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"deity!"
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my father sexually abused my sister. that sure was a great thing to tell
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people.
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brainwashed my brother.
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me, i don't think about him. push him out of my mind. make him go away.
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make him cease to exist.
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i just want to go and ask him why. just want to see his face..
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lack of a real father made me a mama's boy. when i got teenage, i became a
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rebel mama's boy. now i'm so separated from her, from almost everyone, i'm
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the only one left who understands me.. hard to talk to people who don't
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understand you.
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not to say i'm not happy. i'm happier now than i ever have. i've happened
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upon support, a companion, someone to lean on, someone to talk to.
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christmas.
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used to beat my mother. think that's why i'm here. he wanted it, she either
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spread her legs or got beat up. not a real ego-booster, let me tell you.
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she got even. took a .22, loaded it, shot at him 5 times outside in the
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yard. he went to sleep, woke up with dear old mom sitting on his chest, gun
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in his face. "shit his shorts" comes to mind.
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too much shit in the world. too much, way too much.
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i need new and exciting incense. this scent is getting old.
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not much comfort for me in today's modern disposable society. i don't want
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to be on a talk show, so there's not much compassion from most people.
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yeah, i wonder what it would have been like to have had a father that
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cared. i wonder.
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i always say i'll never marry, never have kids. maybe i will anyway, just
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so i can be the father that i always wanted, sort of..
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"land of rape and honey" was recorded on analog tape, i can hear the fuzzy
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static.
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i crawl up into my mind, and i plumb my thoughts, and it feels like i
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should be in a war-zone.. feels like i should see bombed out buildings,
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fires, death everywhere.. it's not as simple as all that, though. the
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destruction is there, just not as visible as all that.
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a war with no words.
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"keep your religion out of my crotch."
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i don't feel much like being cheerful and smiling, but once i save this i
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will.
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my luck, the computer will fuck up and this will all get flushed.
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hmm. wonder how people will take this. wonder if it'll actually make it as
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a tanj. wonder if i'll actually bother to upload it. hmm.
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- hairy leech
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0/4/92 - 8:44 pm
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why the hell am i dating this? it'll
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ever amount to a lump of shit. i'm
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dolt. groan.
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hell. i just went to save the file, and the disk screwed up. anyone want to
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donate an ibm? please? pretty please?
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[>> Phoenix Modernz Inc. :908/830-TANJ <<]
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[>> Modern Textfiles Inc. The Matrix BBS:908/905-6691 <<]
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[>> The Lawless Society Inc. CyberChat BBS:908/506-7637 <<]
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[>> -also- <<]
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[>> Terrapin Biscuit Circuit:908/506-6651 <<]
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