Path: mit-eddie!rutgers!usc!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!ucsd!ucsdhub!hp-sdd!hplabs!hpfcso!daq From: daq@hpfcso.HP.COM (Doug Quarnstrom) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Angel's discourse. Message-ID: <9060047@hpfcso.HP.COM> Date: 25 Mar 90 02:29:43 GMT Organization: Hewlett-Packard, Fort Collins, CO, USA Lines: 15 Somewhere in heaven: First speaker: Well sir, we were thinking, me an' the others that ... well ... we all think this was a good idea, this freedom of choice thing. (First speaker looks at the others. They all nod enthusiastically.) Second speaker: Oh, yes, a very good idea! (Others nod and mutter yes ... yes ... very good idea ... yes) First speaker: But ... um ... well ... we ... uh ... got together you see, and we ... uh ... voted, and we decided it about time you ... put a stop to it. Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!usc!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!mips!servitude!steveh From: steveh@mips.COM (Stephen C. Hill) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Emotions (& other stuff) Message-ID: <37346@mips.mips.COM> Date: 26 Mar 90 07:25:31 GMT References: <14511@reed.UUCP> Sender: news@mips.COM Lines: 68 In-reply-to: thalen@reed.UUCP's message of 25 Mar 90 11:03:05 GMT Steve, the Dew-ling one, looks over at Thalen, and motions him to come over and sit down by him (after making sure that his Gallon Club card was well hidden.) "Thalen, I much appreciate your fine music, and if you ever need a bass/baritone to harmonize with you, I hope that you think of me. I'm not sure whether the following may answer your musing about most of us being musically inclined, but I remember hearing that IBM, back before there was such a curriculum as CS or software engineering, determined that the two best majors for producing good programmers were music and mathematics ... in that order. "There must be some correlation there. "Also, you speak of never being able to maintain anger. I was never able to feel anger (truly!) because I had been trained in my family that anger was a loss of control. How that actually manifested itself in my life, was that I was able to turn it into something acceptable. Let me give you an example; I met a lady, Carolyn, and we had a couple of dates. I really enjoyed her wit and physically she was the sort that really snapped my switch, shall we say. We had email and phone calls to keep us connected in between the times that we got together ... and only lived about ten miles apart (I've learned THAT lesson!) "She gave me a lot of nice indications that I interested her, as well. But a couple of weeks ago, I noticed that she didn't answer my email, and either didn't return my phone calls, when her answering machine came on, or else the phone just rang and rang. "I finally called her at her office, and she stammered out 'This is rather awkward, but I'm dating someone else, and he's taking up all of my time.' Well, adreneline kicked in, and I reverted to my old behaviour...whatever I did, I COULDN'T raise a fuss. So I told her that I understood, etc., etc., and never could get out that, not only was I disappointed, but that I was actually angry ... not because someone else was the object of her desire [I figure that THAT comes with the territory] but that she didn't have the guts, nor the common courtesy, to just tell me that, instead of stringing me along. "To make matters worse, I have heard from some friends that this is not the first time that she's acted thus. [D'you spoze that people like that ought to have a warning branded on their foreheads?] Steve stands, drains his Tullamore Dew, and strides over to the chalk line. "To honesty! It may hurt, but is better in the long run," and he shags his glass into the back of the fireplace. Drawing a buck from his breeches, he plunks it down in front of Callahan and orders another Tullamore. In an afterthought, he pulls another dollar out, and buys Mike a drink. "It's a poor gesture, but I wanted to thank you for running this place." Steve -- Stephen C. Hill, CDP {ames,prls,pyramid,decwrl}!mips!steveh or steveh@mips.com Integration Products Group MIPS Computer Systems 930 Arques Sunnyvale, CA 94086, (408) 720-2916 Time is Nature's method of keeping us from bumping into ourselves. -- Steve -- Path: mit-eddie!bloom-beacon!bu.edu!bucsf.bu.edu!austin From: austin@bucsf.bu.edu (Austin H. Ziegler, III) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Honesty...why is it so difficult? Message-ID: Date: 26 Mar 90 09:08:42 GMT References: <14511@reed.UUCP> <37346@mips.mips.COM> Sender: news@bu.edu.bu.edu Organization: Boston University College of Engineering Lines: 23 In-reply-to: steveh@mips.COM's message of 26 Mar 90 07:25:31 GMT The blonde tech-mage reappears from one of the corners. "Damn. I was hoping that I could forget that." He walks over to the bar and orders something non-alcoholic. "To the pain of honesty, may it ever be with us." He throws it with great force. "As some of you may have noticed, if you've been around long enough, I'm not the same person that left. I am more cynical in some views, and I'm lighter in others. I think that, overall, I'm a better person than when I left a couple months ago, because I grew on my own, not relying on Callahan's. But I also learned the hard way, that I was leaning on something that did not really exist." "If only we'd been able to be completely honest with each other from the beginning..." He walks back to the corner, and grabs a table, and puts his head down. Those nearby can tell he is not crying, but he is not in the best of moods... austin -- austin@bucsf.bu.edu (bigstuff to austin@buengf.bu.edu) 700 Commonwealth Box 2094, Boston, MA 02215 (617) 375-8272 BUENG '93 "The Hammer has fallen." -- Dan Forrester, _Lucifer's Hammer_ Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!samsung!uunet!zephyr.ens.tek.com!orca.wv.tek.com!pogo!andyd From: andyd@pogo.WV.TEK.COM (Andy Davidson) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Maybe a bit of explanation here . . . Message-ID: <8761@pogo.WV.TEK.COM> Date: 26 Mar 90 06:42:11 GMT Reply-To: andyd@pogo.WV.TEK.COM (Andy Davidson) Distribution: na Organization: Tektronix, Inc., Wilsonville, OR. Lines: 34 The young lady with the snake fades in (*yes* after the door opens & shuts) and collects her typical Dr. Pepper. "Folks, maybe I should say something here that matters a little to me. I go by `Laura' cause that's what everyone else expects (and I don't bother too much with changing .sig lines). But I would prefer `Lyra' because that's what my friends call me - it's short for Shannalyralythia, a some-what complicated and long name, I must admit. I can't claim I know any of you well enough to call you friends YET, but I do hope I will come to regard you as such, and in any case, I can't abide being named `Laura' - just because my aunt and my grandma on one sid, and three cousins on the other, have either that name or `Lara'. So, please, just call me Lyra." Her glass is, once again, inexplicably empty as she toasts, "To old friends, new friends, and fond memories." <<*CRASH*>> This time, most people will notice a jade bracelet, carved like a snake, on her left wrist, just above the defunct watch. She tugs the cuff down over it again. And takes her leave. The emerald ring on her right hand begins to glow, and she slowly fades from view. Off in the corner, a vaguely familiar (but unidentifiable) voice is heard to say, "You know, I can never quite see her point." This is followed by groans and a few half-hearted attempts at ripostes. But the door DOESN'T open-and-shut, and the more observant will notice that Callahan has apparently just sold a Dr. Pepper to thin air. The Dr. Pepper floats to a table -yes, still an empty table- and settles there for a while. -- _______________________________________________________________ | Laura Davidson | If you love something, let it go; | Brought to you by | If it comes back to you, it's yours; |_Andy_Davidson_____| If it doesn't, it never was. Newsgroups: alt.callahans Path: mit-eddie!mintaka!chaos.cs.brandeis.edu!chaos!adam From: adam@chaos.cs.brandeis.edu (The invertabrate punster, so slug me.) Subject: Re: another newcomer In-Reply-To: andyd@pogo.WV.TEK.COM's message of 25 Mar 90 06:24:58 GMT Message-ID: Sender: adam@chaos.cs.brandeis.edu (The invertabrate punster, so slug me.) Organization: Bizzare Unlimited, Traveler In Elephants References: <8748@pogo.WV.TEK.COM> Date: 26 Mar 90 06:45:21 Lines: 55 The traveler in elephants leans over (gently so as not to strain the highbacked chair that his portly bulk is resting within) and looks inquiringly at the snake delicately wrapped around a delicate seeming lass, "Hmm, bold pet, bold woman one would assume. Pretty animal. But are we not all poisonous at one time or another? Why even love can poison someone, unless they are selfless enough to bear it's trials and tribulations beyond all dificulties and seperations." <*Sigh*> The chair seems to protest under it's strain of carying the inflating and deflating character. "Sometimes it is dificult to _really_ know someone. Yet we seem all to know quite well these people here. It is quite a place. Orion? After you finish your ... um ... set up on the roof, could you come down here and introduce me to Thalen here? He sounds like an interesting person ... And why didn't you both drop by earlier? Your company is very appreciated (Oh, by the way, if you do get a moment could you explain how that reed up your chanter changes the pitch of the instrument? I was never all that clear on it ... ) and the music is reminicent of the fun we had as an ntet ... Talking of which, is someone going to strike up a band with this assortment of instruments we have here? I know that we cannot hear the lute if there is even another instrument in the room ... and the bag-pipes (grand pipes?) tend to get a little loud, but with all of this congress, they must have some common ground. I know we can have some earthy music ..." "But anyway, Laura, it is good to have you here. Do you dance? Not physically, I don't know much about that, but verbally. You seem to have nice balance of words, while I just have my dragon in the shower voice. I should learn from someone ... Has anyone here noticed how some people do dance with words? Just to have them flowing like liquid amber (does that activate his trump by the way ... ) from one's lips is such a talent. I can carry on several conversations at once and entertain people with my antics, but these people can spell bind someone by just uttering trivialities. And not just the bovine people, everyone ... I just wonder if it is a learned tallent, or does one have to be born with it." "Oh well." "To the mutterings of an old man, may they never cease to astound us!" <*Crash*> "What is that red liquid just pooling there? I hope Nick can avoid slipping in it. I wonder, Is there an amberite in the house? Perhaps they could tell us where it is from." "Oh an m'lady Laura? Why praytell doesn't your watch work? Are we on the fringe?" (Sorry philbo) Traveler In Elephants. Dave -- -- Newsgroups: alt.callahans Path: mit-eddie!mintaka!chaos.cs.brandeis.edu!chaos!adam From: adam@chaos.cs.brandeis.edu (The invertabrate punster, so slug me.) Subject: Re: God Is An Iron and a SOB Too In-Reply-To: jwbirdsa@phoenix.Princeton.EDU's message of 26 Mar 90 04:42:48 GMT Message-ID: Sender: adam@chaos.cs.brandeis.edu (The invertabrate punster, so slug me.) Organization: Bizzare Unlimited, Traveler In Elephants References: <14822@phoenix.Princeton.EDU> Date: 26 Mar 90 07:02:10 Lines: 33 "Life can get difficult around relation-ships. Take for an example the fact that there is someone I know who is madly inlove with a person too gentle to tell him that he, although very nice, has absolutely no chance. Or perhaps another example, someone who loves very much the bo ... young man that she is dating, but she keeps falling in love with many other gentlemen. My heart goes out to her, for, for her to be happy she has to be without at least one part of her love/in love cycle." "Though ocasionally it becomes ironic that the perfect should happen. Perhaps she will fall inlove with her ... um ... male attachment? no, not the righ word, well anyway the one that she loves. Perhaps, m'lord fuzzy friend, it was 'planned' to show you the other side. To help explain why it was necessary for her to 'drop' you? I don't know. Whenever I have a silly question, I turn to a friend of mine and ask him to ask his morgan deck. (Yes another card game.) We live in a world of difficulty, and much of what actually goes around does come around ..." "To quote SR himself (yes we caught the reference in the subject oh jaded jade ... ) 'Hey! When did we ever let these things become cliche?' The world needs a kick in the pants sometimes. But then again, so do I ... " "Hey Jake, if it is jake with you, could I have some of that free lunch? I seem to keep forgetting to eat. I know I could use to loose, but I am fond of my ... impressive? ... figure." Traveler In Elephants (trying not to pry so as not to ask after children ... ) Not so Fast, Eddie. Dave -- -- Path: mit-eddie!mintaka!yale!think!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!usc!cs.utexas.edu!uunet!crdgw1!sixhub!davidsen From: davidsen@sixhub.UUCP (Wm E. Davidsen Jr) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Re-posting of some strange thoughts Message-ID: <698@sixhub.UUCP> Date: 24 Mar 90 21:57:52 GMT References: Reply-To: davidsen@sixhub.UUCP (bill davidsen) Organization: *IX Public Access UNIX, Schenectady NY Lines: 43 The tall man with the beard walks toward the bar from his corner. He pulls an old halfdollar piece from his pocket and sildes it down the bar. From somewhere, Mike pulls another litremug of Newcastle Dark, and slides it back. Diana said: | 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...") "You have been given a great honor, and I'm happy for you. I'm sad, though, that the father of the baby can't be there, for whatever reason. Watching your children arrive in the world is as close as men ever get to being parents, all the rest of the biological process being given to the women. "I hope your friend has a good delivery, and that the child is healthy and strong, and grows up to be a member of society." He turns. "Nick, I hear you complaining about the aches and pains of getting old. There's only one cure for that, and few seem to want it. Enjoy having a little pain; you'll probably have more every year. The human body wears out, and the older you get the more you enjoy those moments when you don't hurt." "Also," he continues, "you get to enjoy hearing yourself talk." With that he takes a pull of the Newcastle, blows the foam off his moustache in an unappreciated spray, and wanders back to his table. -- bill davidsen - davidsen@sixhub.uucp (uunet!crdgw1!sixhub!davidsen) sysop *IX BBS and Public Access UNIX moderator of comp.binaries.ibm.pc and 80386 mailing list "Stupidity, like virtue, is its own reward" -me Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!usc!brutus.cs.uiuc.edu!psuvax1!xavier!news From: nap92@campus.swarthmore.edu Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: God Is An Iron and a SOB Too Message-ID: Date: 26 Mar 90 17:36:58 GMT Sender: news@xavier.swarthmore.edu (USENET News System) Organization: Swarthmore College Lines: 62 In article <14822@phoenix.Princeton.EDU>, jwbirdsa@phoenix.Princeton.EDU (James Webster Birdsall) writes... > > The green tiger has just settled down to sleep when the next tragedy >strikes... > > {God is an iron,} he growls. {I just proved it.} > > {A couple months ago, I made a posting titled "Boom!" In it I related >the sad tale of a female friend who was forced to tell me that I just >didn't click.} > {So guess what I've just had to tell somebody.} > {Yeah.} > > {I feel like I've betrayed her. But at the same time it has become so >obvious that I can't give her what she wants that even I can't ignore it >any more. I could fake it. But that would be a real betrayal.} > {But at the same time, she was so happy. How can I hurt someone who >is probably my best friend in the entire world like that?} > > {I guess what it boils down to is that I'm not willing to give up my >life to make her happy. And maybe that's the ultimate test of whether >you actually love someone or not. But it feels like I'm being selfish.} > > {I don't know what to think.} > > The tiger stares into the darkness of the rafters... > >-- >James W. Birdsall jwbirdsa@phoenix.Princeton.EDU jwbirdsa@pucc.BITNET > ...allegra!princeton!phoenix!jwbirdsa Compu$erve: 71261,1731 >"For it is the doom of men that they forget." -- Merlin Nao gets up from her seat. "Mike, just give me a glass of wine; any wine. I don't care which." She tilts her hat back on her head, and limps on both feet over to the chalk line. "Excuse my slowness; I was at a Scottish dance yesterday with live music. OW, but it was fun. Anyway... I've been on both ends of that conversation, and it hurts on both ends, but the outcome is never quite predictable. My friendship with one of my very best friends in the world is all the stronger because of a conversation like that. I love him (but am not in love with him (he'll be glad to see that; I know he's reading this. :) ) all the more. One thing to keep in mind is that this is not the end; it is not a decision that has to be cut in stone. You can change your mind." She yawns, and sips at her wine. She grimaces. "Why did I order that so early in the morning? Bleah. Anyway, it's time for the toast." "To honesty in friendships!" *CRASH* *yawn* "I should go catch up on my sleep now....." She picks up a green kitten and heads back to her seat. She collapses in her chair, skritches the kitten's ears for awhile, and falls asleep. *hugs* Nao (hey! what happened to my .sig file? here's my addresses:) NAP92@campus.swarthmore.edu NAP92@swarthmr.bitnet Naomi@cs.swarthmore.edu Path: mit-eddie!bu.edu!bu-cs!bucsf!gilly From: gilly@bucsf.bu.edu (Gilly Rosenthol) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Some joy to share Message-ID: Date: 26 Mar 90 17:44:48 GMT Sender: news@bu.edu.bu.edu Reply-To: gilly@bucsf.bu.edu (Gilly Rosenthol) Distribution: alt Organization: Boston University Lines: 122 Gilly dances in, a silly smile on her face. Those who know her would suspect that, at long last, she has found a boyfriend - but they would be wrong. But she has found what may be a soulmate, and certainly is a very special friend. "Last Sunday, the day after St. Patrick's day, there was a Stage Troupe (BU drama group) 40th Anniversary Ball, a semi-formal at the Hard Rock. My chanuka present from my mom was a stunning black semi-formal dress, and I've been looking for a chance to wear it since then, so I convinced a friend of mine to go to the dance with me. We didn't know too many people there, so we were sitting and talking, when I saw someone who looked a bit familiar. He was wearing a black tricorn hat, round gold-frame glasses, and he just looked really interesting and really alone. I realized I had seen him playing at a Stage Troupe Coffeehouse, and that I had liked the Irish drinking song he wrote and performed on recorder. So I screwed up my nerve, dragged my friend Jen over with me, and said `Hi, weren't you the guy who...' and we started talking." She smiles. "One of the things we talked about was Rocky Horror - I don't remember why. But he'd never seen it, and Jen and I both love it. So we agreed we'd all have to go sometime. Well, of course that meant I had to get his phone number didn't it? So Rob and I ended up walking home together, and doing a lot of real talking, and we discovered we had a lot in common. And I fell for him, I guess. I mean, a cute, intelligent, talented, special guy like that - why not? And when we got to his place, he gave me a wonderful hug goodnight, and a kiss on the top of the head. And left me on top of the world... So I called him the next day, and we talked for a while. And then he had to go, so he called me back later. And that time, he mentioned his girlfriend at home. I managed to keep cool, and just say something about how hard it must be, to have a long distance relationship like that. But wow, I came down hard." She looks a bit sad, remember how it hurt, and then perks up again. "Anyway, since then we've talked every day, and seen each other every day but one. And we've shared ideas, and music (I never knew how great Joni Mitchell (especially "Case of You" from _Blue_) or Irish music are!), and feelings, and lots of hugs. But I was still having trouble dealing with the thought that he had a girlfriend, until we talked last night. I guess what gave me the nerve to say anything was the fact that he rold me something I'd been wanting to tell him and didn't know quite how - funny really, it's only three little words. Yes, he told me he loved me, and I told him I loved him, and we sat and held hands and smiled and listend to music." Gilly notices that she is glowing, and tries to tone it down, but to no avail. "So after telling him that there was something I wanted to tell him but I didn't know if I should, and fumbling around for a while, I decided to trust him. And I told him how I felt about him, but that I realized he had a girlfriend, and that his friendship was certainly more important than anything else." She notices a few realistic people cringing, thinking of how great a way that is to strain a relationship. "No, really, it was ok! The only thing telling him changed was that I feel better! And I'm finding it easier to give up the idea of having him for a boyfriend, and just be able to enjoy his friendship. He's so very special... And it's freaky how many things we have in common. But fun discovering them!" Gilly suddenly realizes that the reason her throat is dry is that she's been rambling on for quite a while now. "Mike, a hot choc - oh, you already have it ready. Thanks!" She deposits a dollar on the bar, and drinks down the warm, comforting cocoa. "This one's for Rob - I've *got* to get him in here!" As Gilly is about to leave, she turns back, looking a bit more sober. "Of course, considering how little free time I have and how much of it I want to spend with Rob, this is causing some trouble with my roommate and me - not that we haven't been having enough trouble trying to revive a dying friendship lately." She sighs. "But it'll all work out - I hope. Since I've been listening to Case of You so much lately, and it's such a great song, maybe Fast Eddie will play it for you when I go?" "Sure t'ing," says Eddie, "But you'd better stay to sing it. I ain't no alto, you know." "Well, alright - I guess I can sing for you guys without getting my usual nerves, and having my voice crack all over the place." Just before our love got lost you said, "I am as constant as a Northern star." and I said, "Constant in the darkness - where's that at? If you want me I'll be in the bar." On the back of a cartoon coaster In the blue TV screen light I drew a map of Canada Oh Canada With your face sketched on it twice Oh you are in my blood like holy wine You taste so bitter and so sweet Oh I could drink a case of you darlin' And I would still be on my feet Oh I would still be on my feet Oh I am a lonely painter I live in a box of paints I'm frightened by the devil And I'm drawn to those ones that ain't afraid I remember that time you told me You said, "Love is touching souls" Surely you touched mine 'cause Part of you pours out of me In these lines from time to time Oh you are in my blood like holy wine You taste so bitter and so sweet Oh I could drink a case of you darlin' Still I'd be on my feet I would still be on my feet I met a woman She had a mouth like yours She knew your life She knew your devils and your deeds (? I'm not sure of that word.) And she said, "Go to him, Stay with him if you can But be prepared to bleed" Oh but you are in my blood you are my holy wine You're so bitter, bitter and so sweet Oh I could drink a case of you darlin' Still I'd be on my feet I would still be on my feet. (A bit of humming. You've got to hear it, really, but the words are pretty cool on their own.) -- +--------------------+-------------------------------------------------------+ | Gilly Rosenthol |"Don't dream it, be it" -The Rocky Horror Picture Show | | gilly@bucsb.bu.edu |"On ne voit bien qu'avec le coeur. | | | L'essentiel est invisible aux yeux." -Le Petit Prince | +--------------------+-------------------------------------------------------+ Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!usc!cs.utexas.edu!uunet!decwrl!shelby!lindy!news From: GE.LJB@forsythe.stanford.edu (Louis J Bookbinder) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: love Message-ID: <8666@lindy.Stanford.EDU> Date: 26 Mar 90 20:35:30 GMT Sender: news@lindy.Stanford.EDU (News Service) Lines: 104 Clank Nick struggles in with TWO buckets, his axe, and an armload of fuel. CLASH! go the buckets. KUBLUMPTA! go the logs. Crunch goes the copious glass underfoot. Nick shakes his head in disgust at the mess (mixture of Pepsi, whip cream, broken glass and something red and sticky splashed in a large circle around the fireplace), and crunches over to the broom. Puts down his axe, grabs the broom, resettles two yellow fuzzies on his shoulders and starts sweeping. Soon he has reduced the circle of disaster to a more manageable size, so that green kittens can romp closer to the warm, inviting flames. However, the sticky red stuff doesn't sweep well and soon tiger tracks are all over the floor, chairs, tables, the piano, and various patrons who like cats and invite them up. Nick shovels up the glass into the two buckets, filling them quickly, then props the broom in its place, lifts the buckets, and.. The fuzzy on his left shoulder slides down his chest, leg, foot to the floor and rolls over to a curious green kitten, saying "QWEEP?". The kitten answers "BLURRT?" and bats it gently. "QWEEEEEEEP!" "BROWWWR!" "QWOOT" "MOOORE" "BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr" The kitten is startled to hear this potential meal purring, stops for a second, then carefully steps to it, circles it with its thick green forepaws, and starts licking it. It starts to purr, too, and the two make a strange sort of harmony. Smiles all around from patrons, and a couple of "Awwww"s. Nick, after a moment's hesitation, carries the buckets of mess out the back door. Another kitten comes over to investigate. It pats the fuzzy with a fat green paw, and the first kitten looks up and places a paw on the second one's face. Laughter all around. The second one backs off, looks longingly at the yellow fluff, then wanders off to find someone's lap. Nick re-enters with empty buckets, puts them down, picks up the broom and continues to reduce the circle of shards. Still, the red ooze is left. Nick is forced to step in it, but takes warning from some of the patrons and steps carefully to prevent a fall. Most of the glass, sticky and red, is shovelled up, and Nick takes this out too. The green kitten goes to sleep in the middle of a lick, the purr-duet continues, now in the rising-falling pattern of sleep. Evidently the fuzzy sleeps, too. Nick re-enters with a mop. The red stuff is absorbed, but appears un-diminished in extent. Kittens and patrons continue to track it around. Mike is beginning to be alarmed. Nick looks puzzled. He takes the mop out, comes back a few minutes later. "THALEN, WHAT IS THIS STUFF! IT TOOK A HECK OF A LONG TIME TO GET IT OUT OF MY MOP!" Nick looks at the mess in disgust, considers getting back his fuzzy from the sleeping kitten, re-considers, wanders over to a window. Out this window the sky is pink, the hills are pale yellow with gray shrubbery of some sort. No sun(s) are visible but as he watches, a tall blue metal tripod marches up over a hill and crosses the scene. Nick is alarmed at first, then shakes his head. The windows here don't always seem to look into real places. The window next to it is more like California and the air is full of tiny insects swimming through warm sunny air. Nearby are buildings with red tile roofs. Nick looks for a while then turns back to the room. More glass is in the fireplace, the red smear has not abated. "I always thought the definition of Love (R) was giving up your life for somebody else. By that, Green Tiger was not in Love (R). Well, there is Love (R) and then there is Love (R). This is all too confusing for words. I love my SO, I would give up my life for her, and in fact often decide to do something not just for myself, so that she can be happier. But I remember the intense endocrine highs I would get when we first met. They don't happen now. Why? "I wonder how many perfectly satisfactory matches have failed because one or both parties didn't feel that electric something anymore? Does the deeper (? - I'm not sure) involvement constitute a capacity only older, more experienced people can have? Or is it just that older people can no longer jack up the hormones enough to fuel the flames?" Nick points to the kitten sleeping with the orange fuzzy. "Thats how I feel with my SO. I'd rather hold and nuzzle and sleep than bounce and thrash in the sack. I guess I must be getting rusty. What is love? Well, if you can't give back what you get from the other, it is probably best to break off the fiction. The honest apology is cruel, but perhaps less cruel than the lying avoidance. I've done it a few times. I've done both. The honesty is easier in the long run, because I don't have to live with the guilt of deception. I DO have to live with knowing someone got hurt. But it isn't totally ME that does the hurting. Love has its own logic, love gives, love takes away, it it doesn't work, no amount of wishing will make it work. If I have done my honest best I should have no regrets. "But usually I do. Did. Haven't started a new relationship in quite some time. I wonder if it is still in these old tin joints?" Nick sighs, walks over to the sleeping kitten, hesitates, blinks a few times, carefully pets the small green form. The purring momentarily increases in volume. He stands, carefully picks up a chair and places it over the two small lovers, to protect them. Nick Chopper - my opinion? dont ax! LB>- GE.LJB@Forsythe.stanford.edu