281 lines
13 KiB
Plaintext
281 lines
13 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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| #59 |
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|-----------------------------------------------------------------------------|
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- Going Crazy in the Suburbs 05: I used to be... -
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by Hairy Leech
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i sit here, and i wonder, i wonder where my mind has wandered to. i can't
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write worth a shit anymore..
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seems like pain is the only thing that can make me write. can't seem to write
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when i'm happy. hmmm. strange.
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i used to write short stories. i used to write fiction. i used to write
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poetry. now i just write about me and the the people i know and how we all
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effect one another. and feelings. and hate. and pain. and misery. and that's
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it. that's all. nothing else.
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i wonder what's wrong with me.
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and i quote music far too much. i don't think i've writting a single thing
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in the past.. i don't know.. year, maybe, that didn't have atleast one
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quote from a song. i'm just a fucking dimwit. i can't think of anything to
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say anymore, so i just steal little snippits from songs and throw them in.
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my blasted "h" key seems to be defective. allow me to cleanse it.
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ah. i don't know if that's better or not, but i popped the bugger off and
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blew on it. hmm. didn't seem to be all that dirty. i guess we'll see.
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i hate politics. yep.
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i hate the music industry. yep.
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i hate the way the world runs in general. yep.
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not that politics & the music industry constitute the entire world, mind you,
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but they're just the first two things that popped into my head.
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dear old jeff, record store guru as he is, seems to think i should write. know
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what made him think that? i'll tell you, i will.
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one day a guy walked in looking to sell used compact discs. he had a bag with
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him, which i assumed contained all the said compact discs (which will from now
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on be referred to as cd's, as i am generally a lazy piece of rubbish, don't
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we all know..). so i says to jeff there, i say "ay, it's a big burly bag o'
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used, it is."
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and jeff, being the sort of person he is, damned practical joker and all, he
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says, "you know, you should write. you use too many adjectives, and they're
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just going to waste."
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well, he said something like that. i hope you don't expect me to remember the
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exact words and all. of course not. i'm not like that, you realize.
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i need film for my camera. i need a better camera. i want a nice auto-focus,
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auto-winding sort of 35mm camera. and some nice black and white film. hmm.
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perhaps i'll buy some of these neat things tomorrow, perhaps.
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it's the, umm, the 27th of december. and that should be pronounced "thE,"
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stressing the e. the old english sort of way. "thuh" is just not like me at
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all. so there.
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welly welly welly well. i have $1000 in the bank, $450 in the trunk of savings
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(along with some pretty pink stationary and my hair clippers) and a whooping
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$60 in my change purse.
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gosh, i never thought i'd be saying "purse." and i really never thought i'd
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be carrying one. hmmm.
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that should (i pray to my [non-existant] god) be plenty enough to buy a car
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tomorrow, pay off the dmv fees, and maybe even have a little left over for
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gas.
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damn, it'd better be.
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a nice cheap camera would be fine. hmm.
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i don't "need" anything. i'll have to scold myself for using that word again.
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i told myself a few weeks ago, considering how well-off i was, all things
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considered, that i didn't really "need" anything. i don't "need" a new
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$800 stereo, but i'd sure as hell like one. so, i suppose it's proper to say
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that i "want" one, or that i "would like" one, or that i "desire" one. so
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there. please go back through the above text and replace "need" with whichever
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of the above you like. ok? ok. thank you very much. you save me so much time
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and effort by correcting my mistakes for me.
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i should go and append some big slurry text i wrote a while ago to this. yeah.
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i should, shouldn't i. hmm. let's see if i can find it.
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well. i have tons of files lying around my disk, and i haven't the foggiest
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which is the most recent. i thought i wrote something a few days ago (well,
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maybe more like a week ago) that was all moody and nasty and evil sounding.
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hmmm. i keep forgetting what i do and what i don't.
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it all remind me of mad max. remember? remember that part in the movie where
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the one guy tells max that he'll just drift around, living for the moment,
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one day blurring together into the next..? remember? of course you do. well,
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that's how i feel. there isn't any clear-cut breaks between one day and the
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next for me anymore. i can't remember things that i do two days ago, even
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yesterday. i can't remember anything. it's going, the mind.. it's going
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quick.
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aren't i the shy one.
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so she says i look evil. and i don't know if i should believe her or not.
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i mean, i do believe her, but i wonder, really. i don't look evil. i'm a nice,
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sweet, caring, compasionate person. i may as well be a bunny rabbit, that's
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the way i seem to myself. fluffy and gentle and fragile and soft and calm and
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quiet and all that. that's how i see myself.. yeah. a soft, white rabbit.
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with blue eyes. of course.
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i was sitting perched on an anonymous 32 line chat system the other day, and
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i made the mistake of saying that i felt out of place when hanging around with
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the other people of the anonymous 32 line chat system. and then, then someone
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all comes and whispers things to me, that i'd considered a friend to everyone
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and all that. and it felt weird, i tell ya.
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there are quite a few things that i'm not used to in this world, and people
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being all chummy chummy with me is one of them. one of the bigger ones.
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you see, droids, i was not always the happy camper that you see before you
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now. oh, no no no. that i was not.
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why, just two years ago, i was a raving lunatic who paraded around nude in the
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backyard in the middle of the night. sware to [non-existant] god. did it, i
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did.
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quit it, stop it, stop that laughing.
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yes, and just two short years ago, it was part of my daily routine to be made
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fun of, picked on, poked, prodded, jabbed, tripped, laughed at, jeered at,
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so on, and so on, and so forth. yep. and i don't think i was all that much
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different, really.
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see, the problem was, i stopped trying to fit in. yep. just up and stopped
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playing the game. and no one could quite figure it out. well, almost no one.
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a few did. but they're beside the point.
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when a big old jocky muthafucka see something he dosen't understand, he
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usually either: a> beats it to a pulp or b> makes fun out of it. both, i
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theorize, are some sort of crude ego-stroking technique.
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anyway.. highschool, for me anyway, seemed to be filled with big old jocky
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muthafuckas.
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so, i got rather used to being made to feel i was nothing, i was shit, and
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a stupid one at that.
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so then, then you see, then this anonymous girl who i just so happen to be
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in love with, she goes and tells me things that are just too much to
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believe. things like, like my appearance being attractive. like, like me
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being cute. and other things. and it was just way too much.
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allow me quote from my diary/journal/notebook that i never took a single note
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in which i used during sophmore year o' highschool:
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wait a minute. where is it?
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ah. there it is. i know it by the cover. i drew it up during the gulf war.
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you remember, that big old oil war. yeah. it says real big-like on the cover,
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"pray for peace."
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(speaking of wish, i remember someone kept going around about that time and
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drawing peace symbols on desks and such. and some other silly shit kept going
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around and bragging about how studly the united states was. kept ranting about
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how we should "kick their ass." what a joke. fucking ridiculous.)
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anyway.
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hmph. can't find what i'm looking to quote. must be in my other notebook of
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doom. you know. the one that convinced the entire staff that i was a looney
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tune. yep. must be in there.
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this one is nice, though. 78 pages long, 210 entries or so. that's fucking
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huge, no? i started it on 12/3/91, finished on 4/23/92. that's just
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ridiculous.
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see? see that? i wrote that much, it contains so many thoughts, so many
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feelings.. it's just so.. much. and i wrote it. every day, almost every
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class. and i can't do that anymore. i don't have enough time. i'm not
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bored enough.
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i need to quit my job, sit around, go crazy, be hurt, and write.
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i wish i had time to write at work, but it just dosen't seem to come out
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that way. i get plenty enough free time, but it's always spent talking to
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the other people who work there. and it's always spread out. i never get, say,
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fifteen minutes of peace all at once. maybe spread out over nine hours, but
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never all at once. i wouldn't be able to write a complete sentence before i
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was disturbed again.
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it's a job, anyway. i'm not supposed to sit around and write. i'm supposed to
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work. so i do.
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i've never let anyone read this 78 page long green journey into my tortured
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mind before. i never felt like i knew anyone enough to let them. i know a
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friend of mine got hold of it once and read some parts, but not the entire
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thing.
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i think the main reason i've never let anyone read it is because of how silly
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it is.. how childish. i was so alone, you understand, alone.. for about two
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years, just alone. just me. no friends to speak of in school. just me. and i
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went crazy. and i started thinking i was falling in love with people i'd
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never even spoken to, just because i was so crazy, so lonely.. i made up
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pictures in my mind, pictures of a perfect life, pictures of friendship i
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thought i'd never have. i'd see a girl who was as much an outcast as i was,
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and i would force myself to like her. and that's what it's all about. and it's
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so pathetic.
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aren't i the coming-out-of-the-closet one.
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i was sick, you understand. i was many times less than what i am today. and
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i'm sure you all know how hard it is to let people see you when you were small
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and pathetic.
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but, somehow, i think someone is finally going to end up reading this thing.
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yeah.. i think so.
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i know so much about ms. anonymous girl who i happen to be in love with, i'm
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closer to her then i think i've been to anyone in my life. if anyone is going
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to see this tortured bit of handwritting before i destroy it (and believe me,
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i've thought about destroying it quite a few times) it will be her.
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and yes, i really did run around naked in the night. i don't know why. it just
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occured to me one evening. so i stripped, walked outside, walked around for an
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hour or so, and then came back inside and went to sleep.
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i don't know how many times that happened. more than once, but less than five,
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i'm sure.
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i was crazy, you understand.
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i used to be an artist, but now i am not.
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i used to be a writer, but now i am not.
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i used to be an outcast, but now i am not.
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i used to be alone, but now i am not.
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i used to be filled with hate, but now i am not.
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i used to be sick, but now i am not.
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and it's all her fault, damn it.
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1:43 pm - 12/27/93.. justin, justin, justin. where is my mind?
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±±±²²²²²²ÛÜ Phoenix Modernz Systems: 908/830-TANJ
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ÛÛ±±±±±±²²²Û The Syndicate: 908/506-6651
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ÛÛ±±±±±±²²²Û The Matrix BBS: 908/905-6691
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±±±²²²²²²ÛÜ First United Church Kalisti: 602/753-3784
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±±²²²ÛÜÜÜ The Cell: 817/870-1060
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