Path: mit-eddie!mit-amt!snorkelwacker!usc!ucsd!ucbvax!HPLRED.HPL.HP.COM!egly From: egly@HPLRED.HPL.HP.COM (Diana Egly) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re-posting of some strange thoughts Message-ID: Date: 22 Mar 90 17:53:49 GMT Sender: usenet@ucbvax.BERKELEY.EDU Lines: 79 I've found that none of my recent posts have made it to alt.callahans. So I'll try another path. I guess that none of you shared my joy at being asked to be a labor coach for a friend of mine (who me? taking part in an experience that is both very private and very miraculous). That one has vanished from my system so I can't re-post it. Congratulations gladly excepted (but I didn't have any part the conception...) because I feel so deeply honored to be asked to do this. This friend of mine socializes with other people far more than she does with me, and yet... And I am so very deeply honored... (And as I said in the original posting "I don't know nothing about birthing babies...") The following two posts which I've appended to this, I've had some mixed feelings about re-transmitting, but have decided to do so anyway. The first is a modification (modified to suit the Callahans setting, but the imagery is the same) from my journal. This of it as poetry in a prose form, for I'm no poet. It's as much of an explaination of why I'm going to be away from Callahan's for a while as I'm able to put into words. The second posting is my departure. ---------- Subject: Re: cynics, singles, and social skills Newsgroups: alt.callahans / hplred:alt.callahans / steve@arc.uucp (Steve Savitzky) / 11:26 am Mar 16, 1990 / > "Something like that... To Corners -- there's one here for everyone > who wants one!" Is there a corner for me? Is there a corner *anywhere* for me? Yesterday I was enormous. The walls moved out of my way as I passed by. They had to because I was so big. And they were glad to for they loved me. Everything loved me. Flowers bloomed at my feet. My car rocked and rolled around me, dancing down the highway. It was glorious. But that was yesterday. Today I've shrunk so small that a spring breeze might carry me off. The walls loom over me menacingly. I need a corner somewhere where the ceiling won't fall in and the walls won't crumble around me. I think I can endure this collapse of everything around me if I can find a little corner -- a token of safety that I can hold on to. Is there a corner that expands and shrinks to suit this Alice-in-wonderland existance? Why have I never found one? OK. Bring on the Procrustean bed. Stretch me out and cut me off and make me fit for human society. What choice do I have? ---------- Subject: Re: grenades Newsgroups: alt.callahans / hplred:alt.callahans / goldfarb@ocf.berkeley.edu (David Goldfarb) / 6:26 am Mar 17, 1990 / > and suddenly the air is alive with > cream pies piling themselves on him from all directions amid general > laughter. In the midst of the pie fight a lone figure walks towards the door. Actually shuffles more than walks, as if she'd aged a century over night. And perhaps she has. When a pie hits her, she doesn't seem to notice. It is, as Jilara said, cold and rainy out, but again she doesn't seem to notice. The rain cleans the pie from her, but she shoes no signs of caring, one way or the other. As she disappears into the dark she mumbles, "must keep callahan's fun. mustn't let it get gloomy. lighten up. lighten up. gotta keep it light. mustn't really *feel* anything." And she is gone. ---------- Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!apple!usc!samsung!uunet!microsoft!ellene From: ellene@microsoft.UUCP (Ellen EADES) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: I agree with Cynic! Message-ID: <53706@microsoft.UUCP> Date: 22 Mar 90 18:39:39 GMT References: Organization: Microsoft Corp., Redmond WA Lines: 12 Reply-To:ellene@microsof.uucp (Ellen Eades) In article haste+@andrew.cmu.edu (Dani Zweig) writes: >Ellen, don't answer this if you'd rather not, but... >how do you feel about circuses? They go well with bread. On toast, say. Or in walls, with the appropriate cables, or perhaps on motherboards. Perhaps in pies, where the pies are square. I find circease welcome at times, but at other times I need a circus protector. Their animal magnetism is high, but I can't bear lion around while they jump through hoops for me. Since I'm a singer, I'm fond of the Trapp-ese artists. But enough clowning around ... Ellenphant Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!samsung!uunet!shelby!lindy!news From: GC.DCW@forsythe.stanford.edu (SPRING FEVER) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Current Events Message-ID: <8620@lindy.Stanford.EDU> Date: 22 Mar 90 19:44:03 GMT Sender: news@lindy.Stanford.EDU (News Service) Lines: 67 Spike, who has been watching events intently, but of course has forgotten to take notes, finally decides that some of the events of the past week merit some commenting on. Walking to the bar, he asks for a Dr. Pepper in a tall, frost glass and walks to the chalk line. "I have mixed feelings about all the comments that I have been reading, and some of the emotions contained have buffeted me in their familiarity." Spike sighs, and continues on.... "Ellen has said that she dislikes having people she does not know proclaiming their friendship and goodwill to the group because that includes her. How do we know her from her electronic self is she does not display it, she asks. How can we know her at all, if we do not share with her her point of view on subjects that are near and dear to her. How can we be friends if she does not desire that in the first place? "I don't really have a definitive answer for that, because some- times I feel that way, when I am my most pessimistic. It is hard to walk alone in this world, and I struggle along with my thoughts and deeds and all the baggage that I carry from my past. We all do, and it gets hard to find people to share experiences with that you feel you can trust. Frankly, no one else has your best interests at heart except yourself. I can say that I want only the best for any of you, but I have to mean it, in my heart for that to have any meaning. No, we cannot help anyone in their time of need, and least not literally, the best that anyone can do for someone else is to show you are concerned, that that per- son somehow matters, so that the person will convince themselves to do the things necessary to solve the problem." Sipping his drink, Spike smiles, and then continues on. "Normally, I am not so eloquent in my printed speech, but I have been thinking hard about all of these things lately, and have a lot to say, but as I am a new arrival, I have been deferring to those of you who have been here awhile, and will continue to do so. Orion, you have my warm sympathy and a hope that things will somehow get better for you, maybe you and your father can somehow devise ways to climb out of the morass you find yourself in. Cynic, my gosh, the world does not need any martyrs of the soul. It would be great to cause the problems of the world to go away, but if you have become withdrawn because you feel that these problems are too great, well, and this is not a flip question, what are you doing to help alleviate the things that bother you? I ask this question of myself all the time, very rarely to I get an answer that I satisfies me, I need to do better, but I cop out and say things like 'I don't have time', 'there are things I have to do first', etc." Another sip, and then Spike grins a toothy grin at the assembled crowd, "I have to admit that I almost left the other day, and then decided that if there was no reason to stay, there was no reason to go, either. I am glad I stayed, and I would like to say that with Spring here, this is a time of renewal and spring- cleaning, so instead of making some noble comment, here is my toast: "To accomplishing new things, reaching goals, and eliminating the things that vex us most." Swigging the last of the D.P., he chucks the drink into the fireplace, watches the glass shatter against the bricks, and returns to his seat to rummage through that bottom- less backpack. Doug White Co-Owner of the Silicon Bashers Newsgroups: alt.callahans Path: mit-eddie!mintaka!chaos.cs.brandeis.edu!chaos!adam From: adam@chaos.chaos.cs.brandeis.edu (The invertabrate punster, so slug me.) Subject: Holding hands In-Reply-To: GC.DCW@forsythe.stanford.edu's message of 22 Mar 90 19:44:03 GMT Message-ID: Sender: adam@chaos.cs.brandeis.edu (The invertabrate punster, so slug me.) Organization: Bizzare Unlimited, Traveler In Elephants References: <8620@lindy.Stanford.EDU> Date: 22 Mar 90 16:20:44 Lines: 33 "To maintain my sanity, and to be the proverbial jolly-dirty-old-man, I have found that going through life working under the assumption that, unless proved otherwise, everyone is a potential friend. I might have to coax them out a little, but it is always fun to share one's self with ones friends and to share one's friends with each other." "Now in some cases it 'backfires', due to the fact that the friends that you introduce to each other manage to hit it off so well, that they forget your presence, but since they are happy I am forgiving." "On the theme of friendship, I met this great guy recently. He was very into just about all of the same interests that I was, and he was at least as capable as I was in most of them. We talked the night through, and ended up close friends. A few days later I happened to mention one of my relatives in connection with something (He goes to Duke ... ) and lo and behold, we discovered that we were related! We even had been at some of the ganza mishbocha gatherings at the same time without meeting! It was astunding." "It just goes to show that friends are relative." "A TOAST, To openness and communication, may it help all of us live to our best potential, and help us when we don't." <*Crasplash*> "(Wups, that one wasn't emptied yet ...)" "Hey yous peoples in bu, contact me occasionally? Nu? It's geting normal around here again. Time to do something about it." Traveler In Elephants Dave -- -- Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!ucbvax!FSDCUPT.CSD.MOT.COM!jane From: jane@FSDCUPT.CSD.MOT.COM (Jane Beckman x4030) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: How ya feline? Message-ID: <9003221353.AA11242@fsdcupt.csd.mot.COM> Date: 22 Mar 90 21:53:03 GMT Sender: daemon@ucbvax.BERKELEY.EDU Lines: 34 Jilara walks in, with a rather animate collar of grey-and-apricot fur. "Since we started getting catty, it seems the felines are coming in to keep the place from going to the dogs." The cat rearranges to sit up, parrotlike, on her shoulder, watching the patrons. As she walks past a patron who is shelling a peanut, the cat reaches out with a multi-toed hand and snags it neatly. "Hey, wait a minute, cats got _hands?!_" Doc says, frowning from the end of the bar. "We had a guy with a talking dog here, once, but a cat with hands?" Jilara reaches up to scratch the cat, who is busily shelling the peanut. "I should explain, this is Sasha, and she is the next generation of feline evolution, for when _they_ take over. She told me she felt she'd be very interested in meeting all of you." The cat discards the peanut shell, munches the peanut out of one hand, and finishes by biting Jilara's ear. "All right!" she mutters, as the cat now reels in her necklace. "Mike, my usual, and a peach kefir for Sasha. And some nachos, if you have them," she adds, as the cat tugs on her necklace again. She shrugs apologetically. "They're her favorite food. She has me trained." Mike returns her scotch and a bowl of kefir. "The nachos will take a few minutes," he says. She shrugs, picks up the drinks and heads over to her usual table. Sasha launches herself onto Alaric's shoulder, lands neatly, then proceeds to bite _his_ ear. This greeting accomplished, she spies the Tabbifli and gives a quick "Mrrrrow?" in greeting to her, then leaps onto the table and begins to lap her kefir. "Hmmm, with all these felines around here, we'll be in real trouble if anyone gives anybody the bird," Fast Eddie observes, and launches into a spirited version of "The Cat Came Back" on his piano. ---Jilara the Exile jane%fsdcupt.csd@urbana.mcd.mot.com Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!samsung!xylogics!world!eliz From: eliz@world.std.com (Elizabeth Lear) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: The next step. Message-ID: <1990Mar22.210014.21359@world.std.com> Date: 22 Mar 90 21:00:14 GMT References: <14488@reed.UUCP> Organization: The World Lines: 36 odlin@reed.UUCP (Iain Odlin, "Orion") entered: Orion returns to the bar and removes his cloak, revealing a simple white shirt tucked into a kilt in Hunting Stewart tartan, over which he is wearing a furred dress sporrin. The cloak he folds up and sets on the bartop, placing next to it a large black case. Eylisadh's head turns to follow, watching this man in her clan's tartan, and listening to his thoughtful words. Orion returns to the bar and grabs his case. "Once again, I want to thank all of you for welcoming me to the Place. Believe me, I'm going to be here for as long as I've got net.access. For now, I'm going up on the roof," he says to everyone as he starts up the stairs, "to play my bagpipes. I wonder if these two little fuzzies could act as `soprano drones.' Hmmm... At any rate, anyone is free to join me, should you so desire." She rises from her seat near the shadows to catch Iain as he's about to ascend [do we have the wrought-iron staircase yet?]. Now the patrons can see that she is blonde, the firelight bringing out the soft red in her hair, and garbed in a floor-length skirt that sways to show it's pleated. A swath of matching fabric is pinned to the shoulder of her white blouse like a cape, floating behind as she moves. "If you'll but wait a moment, I'll join you. I'm of the Stuarts, but I wear the Carmichael sub-clan tartan. I would so love to hear a clansman play! Should I change to my dancing kilt or bring my chanter? Both, to accomodate a change of moods?" ...eylisadh -- ----------------------------------------------------------------------- One of the many fine staff members of THE WORLD - public access UNIX SUN 4/280 (617)739-WRLD 24 hrs. 300/1200/2400bd *Interested in musical theater? Join us! musicals-request@world.std.com* Path: mit-eddie!bloom-beacon!shelby!lindy!news From: GE.LJB@forsythe.stanford.edu (Louis J Bookbinder) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: sweeping broken glass Message-ID: <8623@lindy.Stanford.EDU> Date: 22 Mar 90 21:43:39 GMT Sender: news@lindy.Stanford.EDU (News Service) Lines: 32 cLaNkkkk, CLkw Nick stumbles in, thinking "TWICE in one day?!!!". Dumps another load of firewood near the hearth. Starts sweeping. Weird, squealing, harmonies issue from the top of the spiral stairway. Orion is up on the roof playing bagpipes. Already Mike has had to dissuade two cops and a county sheriff from making an arrest. "Ungrateful neighbors!" he mumbles, not forgetting that the nearest neighbor is in a completely different newsgroup. Nick smiles, pauses in his sweeping: "I like that! A little loud, but stirring. Adds spirit to the place." He shovels up some broken glass, steps back to allow another toast. "Hi, Spike! Maybe we should meet in realspace, considering we are on the same campus. I'll warn you next time I am due over at Forsythe." Diana Egly walks in in the middle of a pie fight (time is a very flexible thing in the Place) and posts a couple of old lost notes, then walks out, head bowed. While others joyously make festive or clean up in various fantastic fashions, Nick reads the notes. His hard tin features suddenly seem sad, crestfallen. He goes back to his sweeping, silently, occasionally helping the cleanup of virtual pies. When the Place is back to its usual chaotic, but healthy, self, he puts the broom back, picks up the pail of shards and wanders over to a window (like corners, the number of windows is large). Sadly he gazes out for a while, the stirring scottish air from the roof having no effect. "Goodbye, Diana. I will miss you." Nick Chopper - my opinion? dont ax! LB>- GE.LJB@Forsythe.stanford.edu Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!apple!rutgers!njin!skitchen From: skitchen@pilot.njin.net (Skitch) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Grin-- Some Dreams Come True Message-ID: Date: 23 Mar 90 00:10:49 GMT References: Organization: NJ InterCampus Network, New Brunswick, N.J. Lines: 24 Shows you how far behind the times I am. Taldin, many congratulations to both you and Joelle. Makes me feel good at least. Scott steps up to the bar. "Mike," he says, "two ice waters for my friends Taldin and Joelle and a glass of champagne for myself." He plunks three singles on the bar, gives the water to the blushing couple, and steps to the line... "My friends," he begins, "I'd like to propose a toast in Joelle's and Taldin's honor. I could go on and on about love spanning the ages and so forth and so on, but I won't. They're in love, and they're friends, and that's what counts. To Joelle and Taldin!" As before, Scott's glass hurtles toward the fireplace, joined, no doubt, by many others toasting this happy occasion. Cheers! -- Scott Kitchen Send mail to: skitchen@cc1.pica.army.mil Rebel Without a Clue ICBM: 40.88 N 74.56 W -------------------------------------------------------------------------- The year is 2989. New York City has become a melting pot for humans and various alien races. Blind dates are a real crap shoot now. --from Roachmill Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!ucbvax!CGL.UCSF.EDU!colgrove From: colgrove@CGL.UCSF.EDU Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: LifeNews and a Song Message-ID: <9003230115.AA21578@socrates.ucsf.EDU> Date: 23 Mar 90 01:15:19 GMT Sender: daemon@ucbvax.BERKELEY.EDU Lines: 137 Robin moseys hesitantly into the Place, a complex and inconstant set of expression flickering across his pug-irish features. He sits down at the Piano at locks eyes with Fast Eddie. "I think I need some keyboard therapy, friend. Complicated feelings best managed by application of fingers to politically-correct-ivory-substitute. Yesterday, was "the Match" where the computer assigns med students to their residencies and I'm going to Beth Israel, the "House of God"... a great hospital and one of the top programs in the country but not my first choice...thus the complicated feelings...moving, babies, yikes...anyway... I composed this number for a biochem meeting a few years back and thought it might fit in here. I know virtual music is tough over the net, but set your defaults to standard 12-bar blues motif and you'll be on the right track. I scored it originally for Alto, Tenor and Bass voice with me on the piano and a fellow grad student on trombone but I'll do my best to muddle through a solo...here goes..." A standard slow blues whomp in F (with the slightly off balance rhythm and occasionally quirky chord progressions that mark most of his music) begins softly and builds, attracting the attention of nearby patrons. He puts on his best you-don't-know-the-troubles-I've-seen face and begins in a scatchy too-many-nights-of-coffe-and-jolt basso... O... my... ol'... head's hung down so heavy (I say) the ground beneath my feet is all I see... (Lord help me please.) O... an' my hands hang down so heavy my fingers jus' keep slippin' off the keys... (Geez.) An' yes my heart's hung down so heavy I'm feelin' lub-dub lub-dub lub-dub... between my knees. (and not only that you know but moreover...) /*accelerando i crescendo*/ I feel a little dizzy like the world is whirrin' blurrin' round my brain...(Drives me insane.) I feel a little fizzy-wizzy think I'm whirlin' swirlin' twirlin' down the drain... Aaaaa-aaain. Well...this heavyweight rotation's got me sick an' in pain an' there's one sure diagnosis that... you might entertain. (Please note those-) biophysical, psychosocial and eee- lec- tro- mechanical cues. (It's blown my fuse.) ...The Ul-Tra-cen-Tra-fuge Blues. ******** By now most of the place is listening, and nearby conversations quiet to hear the rousing refrain... ********* C'mon an... spin me down an' we go round an' round! Ain't goin' nowhere but I'm past the speed o' sound. An' you can hear that rotor huuuuuuuuuuu-uuuuuuum. I can only hope that this ol' rotor don't fail, brother if it ever does I kiss goodbye to my tail, cuz it'll blow me clear to Kingdom come! OO-oo-oo... feel the sqeeze down here at forty thousand g's! That mean ol' ultracentrifuge has brought me to my knees. An' you can join me on a circular cruuuuuuu-uuuuize. O I can never rise above my troubles an' strife flattened out against the bottom of the rotor of Life. I say I got the ultracentrifuge, got the ultra centrifuge, got the ultracentrifuge bluuuuues! ***** He slows it back down for an instrumental break, repeating the main theme but with a doubled jump rhythm, then meanders back to the verse... ****** So then I... called up Mr. Science, for some wise advice on how I might pull through...this terrible stew. You got a masters degree in "Science" You must advise me what to do. oo-ooo. (an' he said) To help yo' heavy heart well I got nothin' you can use and to soothe yo' spinnin' brain well I jus'... ain't got no clues but given your size... and mass... (**and certain dimensionless parameters related to your spatial conformation**) well,... I can tell you how fast you will... dif-fuse, down through the ooze. ...The ul-Tra-cen-Tra-fuge blues. ***** After a whole rest, last vibrations clearing from the strings, audience wondering whether that was it, he starts up a seemingly unrelated theme, beginning as a fey honkeytonk, building into an easy stride rhythm and then finally blasting out as a gale force boogie woogie. Only in the closing bars do people realize he's come full circle and with an all-the-way-down-the-keys back-of-the-thumb glissando, he's back to the original whomp whomp of the verse ******* Well.... You can call me crazy for singin' 'bout how I'm spinnin' round an' round... (O yeah) Yes an' you can call me lazy for lyin' here flat-out prostate -I say- prostrate on the ground. Ooooooooo... (well that's ok cuz...) I'll jus' stay right here down in the bottom of my well an' if you ask me how I feel I'll say *hey*... I'm just swell. But don't expect no sympathy when you (**come runnin' to me an' say that now you too...**) feel the turn of the screws. It's a feelin' you can't lose. ...The ultracentrifuge blues. *****with a sly look, he pauses, looks around, then again blasts off***** C'mon an'... (help me out now...) Spin me down an' we go rouund and round... ******* a few of the patrons join in the refrain and a few more clap the rhythm. One astute young female intuits the harmony and a handful of the instrumentalists enter in full jam... Robin rises from the piano stool, pounding away, then sinks for the finale into the classic kneeling-at-the-keyboard position, still hammering the chords... ******** Got the ultracentifuge Got the ultracentrifuge Got the ultracentifuge Bluuuuuu- uuuuuuuuuu- uuuuuuuuuu- uuuuuuuuuuuuuzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz! ********* the last ironic high note chord signals the end and smirks and smiles greet the now sated piano-man. Few have ever heard an extended blues meaphor based on a major lab appliance ;). Robin grins sheepishly, pushes his shaggy mop back out of his eyes, rises and makes his way to the bar. "A pitcher of Anchor Steam, Mike. I'm gettin' pretty dry..." Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!cs.utexas.edu!uunet!sco!caroline From: caroline@sco.COM (Caprice) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Another toast Message-ID: <3536@scorn.sco.COM> Date: 23 Mar 90 00:34:16 GMT Sender: news@sco.COM Reply-To: caroline@sco.COM (Caprice) Distribution: alt Organization: The Santa Cruz Operation, Inc. Lines: 67 Caprice speaks up from the shadow of a corner to accept the drink Nick Chopper has bought in the round for the crowd. "Hey, Nick, I should've known you'd notice that I snuck back in after sort of stomping out the door the other day. OK, well, so long as the secret is out, I guess I could stay a while. "First, I'd like to say thanks to the person who wrote me in e-mail. Yes, sometimes it is hard hearing another "success story" of how love was found, but it is, after all, the shared hope that counts. "Besides, one of the things I've noticed in the midst of this particular round of being depressed while being all-too-single is that it's a different thing this time. Formerly, all the other times "between relationships", I could look at the bleakness and it all seemed like it was inside me. Now, this time, it is definitely "outside". It's all external. Inside, things are much calmer than they ever were before. It's almost an eerie thing, its the lack of some really unpleasant feelings, turmoil that used to be very much a part of what I thought I was, and now, I'm not that person anymore. The one with turmoil inside, that is. There's still sadness, sometimes very deep sadness, about the fact that I don't share much of my life with anyone, not intimately at any rate, but its not the same kind of turmoil about this non-sharing that I used to feel. "Maybe it's just that my soul got seared by the flames of the burning wreck of my last relationship, and that so badly that nothing sticks to me very thoroughly anymore. Which might not be a bad thing, after years of being, perhaps, too involved with my own feelings. Or, maybe I have finally learned something about my own worth and my value independent from my relationship to other things. I thought I knew that before -- but now I *feel* it, and that's a whole different thing. Maybe, I'm just learning to apply the knowledge. Whatever the explanation, it's definitely an improvement over previous times. "Of course, all this was true before I stepped into Callahan's not too long ago ... but that doesn't make it any less important." Suddenly, she becomes somewhat self-concious at making so public a statement about some very private inner feelings, and gulps down the rest of the drink in a hurry. "OK, Nick, I'll make that toast you suggested. To loneliness, you said, because if nothing else, it makes us appreciate our friends. Well, it's not quite the same toast but I mean it in a much more lighthearted spirit than it is likely to sound -- so, everyone, please think about this twice over before you decide that I'm being hopelessly bleak, OK?" She steps up to the chalk line for the toast. "To Loneliness. At least one can say about it that it's a comfortably familiar feeling instead of a frighteningly unfamiliar one!" <*SMASH*> This time, she sits down at one of the tables more near the center of the room. It is occupied by some folks she doesn't know well, so it may be an effort to start up conversations -- but a worthwhile one. She hopes she doesn't stumble over her own tongue too many times in the next few weeks or so. -- More people would believe that cows really could jump over the moon if they didn't all burn up during re-entry. -- (stolen from somewhere on the net)