Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!think!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!wuarchive!uunet!zephyr.ens.tek.com!tektronix!reed!thalen From: thalen@reed.bitnet (Thalen, sword of law) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Breezes Summary: Pleeeeeezze? Keywords: Lute? Message-ID: <14569@reed.UUCP> Date: 31 Mar 90 00:14:19 GMT References: Sender: news@reed.UUCP Reply-To: thalen@reed.bitnet (Dr. Paradox) Organization: Reed College, Portland, OR Lines: 11 Thalen stands and walks over to Eretria, and kneeles at her feet, with his eyes shining. "Please, PLEASE, just for a second. I won't hurt it, I promise! Really! Just one song. Yes, I know how, not too well, but I can do a little." Thalen suddenly realizes that he hasn't explained himself very well, and draws himself up, attempting to look dignified. He manages to look about as dignified as a puzzled (but very eager) Newfie puppy. "I.. ah.. Could I possibly borrow your lute." Grin. Thalen, the Singer without a Song Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!think!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!wuarchive!uunet!zephyr.ens.tek.com!tektronix!reed!thalen From: thalen@reed.UUCP (The Mundane Mage) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Breezes Summary: Pleeeeeezze? Keywords: Lute? Message-ID: <14570@reed.UUCP> Date: 31 Mar 90 03:12:51 GMT References: Reply-To: thalen@reed.bitnet (Dr. Paradox) Organization: Reed College, Portland, OR Lines: 11 Thalen stands and walks over to Eretria, and kneeles at her feet, with his eyes shining. "Please, PLEASE, just for a second. I won't hurt it, I promise! Really! Just one song. Yes, I know how, not too well, but I can do a little." Thalen suddenly realizes that he hasn't explained himself very well, and draws himself up, attempting to look respectible, and failing. Instead he manages to look about as dignified as a puzzled (but very eager) Newfie puppy. "I.. ah.. Could I possibly borrow your lute." Grin. Thalen, the Singer without a Song (as yet) Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!think!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!wuarchive!uunet!zephyr.ens.tek.com!tektronix!reed!turner From: turner@reed.bitnet (I'm not you) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: axing for help Message-ID: <14566@reed.UUCP> Date: 30 Mar 90 20:45:20 GMT References: <8735@lindy.Stanford.EDU> Sender: news@reed.UUCP Reply-To: turner@reed.bitnet (I'm not you) Organization: Reed College, Portland, OR Lines: 25 Nick says: >"It doesn't stop at people who have a noticable disability. (I like to >think that, ultimately, we are all only temporarily able-bodied. We all Caithelin once again stands up from her table, going by way of the bar for another pint of cider and then moves to the window where Nick is standing. "Wouldn't you know it, it's another song that gets me to voice my thoughts. Nick, there is a song I have played on the radio called the "Talking Wheelchair Blues" (I think?) and the reason that I mention it now is that the woman who is in a wheelchair in the song comments to the song writer that everyone else is just temporarily able-bodied. I think you would like the song. It's by Fred Small on his album Heart of the Apaloosa(sp? I really should be able to spell that.). It's about him meeting a woman while he is out jogging and them racing. It says a lot about people and their assumptions of others disabilities. Disabilities don't make us sick or worthless they only mean that in some areas we need a little help sometimes." She open the window and her large equine friend sticks his head through. "Here's the bar old friend, would you like some cider?" She pours a bit into her hand and he rather sloppily licks it up but seems to enjoy it immensely. Caithelin moves towards the table where Morpheus sits, kisses the top of his head and sits. Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!think!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!wuarchive!uunet!zephyr.ens.tek.com!tektronix!reed!mojo From: mojo@reed.bitnet (it's alright ma, I'm only bleeding) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: The Hollow Wisp. Message-ID: <14567@reed.UUCP> Date: 30 Mar 90 20:47:14 GMT References: <2478@raven.ukc.ac.uk> Sender: news@reed.UUCP Reply-To: mojo@reed.bitnet (it's alright ma, I'm only bleeding) Distribution: alt Organization: Earth Coincidence Control Office Lines: 28 In article <2478@raven.ukc.ac.uk> ljgw@ukc.ac.uk (Liam Wickham) writes: > "A toast then. A child's innocence is the ability to see nothing as > mundane. An adult's innocence is the ability to realise that we could > die in two second's time. Both are the same thing. To innocence!" The light shifts again to reveal Morpheus, though he realizes that particular effect is wearing thin. He is clad in a black garment, half cloak, half overcoat; in his hand is a glass of something that looks like light apple juice or terrible beer. "Agreed, Liam," he says, only to realize that Liam has vanished during the preceding paragraph. "Oh, well. An open question, then: what's the same about them and why do we care? "Devil's advocate, of course; I *do* think a child's and an adult's innocence are the same at bottom, and I *am* interested, so bear with me. I'm just interested enough to think out loud. "Takers?" With no transition, Morpheus' corner of the bar is dark again. In a small spot of light, the Hanged Man from a battered Rider deck lies on the bar. -- Nathan Tenny mojo@reed.BITNET ...tektronix!reed!mojo -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Can you walk a little faster?" said the whiting to the snail. "There's a porpoise close behind us, and he's treading on my tail." - the Rev. Dodgson, of course Path: mit-eddie!mintaka!think!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!sunybcs!ubvms.cc.buffalo.edu!v056qkt3 From: v056qkt3@ubvmsd.cc.buffalo.edu (William W Haskell) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Good day all... Message-ID: <20419@eerie.acsu.Buffalo.EDU> Date: 1 Apr 90 15:28:26 GMT Sender: nobody@acsu.Buffalo.EDU Reply-To: v056qkt3@ubvmsd.cc.buffalo.edu Organization: University at Buffalo Lines: 59 A young man walks through the front door. He is wearing faded jeans, and an oversized shirt that comes almost to his knees. He sports a full beard, and looks very distantly around the bar. He is carrying a notebook in his right hand which is dog-eared and battered, but still in one piece. He steps up to the bar and orders a glass of white wine. He places a twenty on the bar, turns, and steps to the chalk line. { I have never been here before, but I have known of you all for some time. I find no solace in what is outside that door, so I am hoping I might find it within. I am a writer. A poet, to be exact. I have never been anything else, and I have never wanted to be. Until a few months back, that is. } { There was a woman in my life who I would have given up anything for. She was beautiful, smart, and wonderful as a person. She wanted me to stop writing to become her idea of what a partner should be. I got a job working in a factory. I was getting myself ready to be able to take care of her. I stopped writing. I started looking for a house. A man who hasn't lived in the same building for more than six months at a time since highschool, and I was looking for a house. } { She had to go away for a time, as we all do every now and then. When she came back, she was very different. She acted distant to me. I confronted her on this, and she told me quite frankly that she seemed to have forgotten me in a lot of senses. I left. I was lost for a long time. then one day, as I wandered through a store, I saw this notebook that I am holding. It was exactly like the one I bought when I first started writing at the age of thirteen. I hadn't written in months, and I knew that a part of me had to start over. This book has been my only friend for a long time. } { I gave up myself for someone who didn't want me. I learned how it is to love, and to hate, and to hurt. There is still much I don't know, and I have decided that I don't want to learn it from experience. I have decided that my job is to watch, observe, contemplate, and write. That is what I am here for. I have never drank before. Not a drop. Bartender? I placed a twenty there for you. I want you to take that and make sure I have enough to get me completely drunk. } He raises his glass. { I would like to make a toast. There are many people in this world who will learn through experience what others before them could have told them. I learned through experience what I could have contemplated. I drink to those people who find away around the pain, for the are the great navigators. I drink to pain, which is the reason that I have returned to myself, and I drink to this little notebook. It's the only true friend I have ever had. } He drains the glass of wine, and lobs it toward the fireplace. It breaks just short of the fireplace. { As usual, I am just short of my goal. By the way, my name is wildy. I am willing to listen to all. } Wildy saunters to a corner table, and sits with his back to the wall, as the bartender brings him a drink. -wildy v056qkt3@ubvms.bitnet Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!usc!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!sunybcs!ubvms.cc.buffalo.edu!v056qkt3 From: v056qkt3@ubvmsb.cc.buffalo.edu (William W Haskell) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: The Hollow Wisp. Message-ID: <20475@eerie.acsu.Buffalo.EDU> Date: 2 Apr 90 09:48:35 GMT References: <2478@raven.ukc.ac.uk> Sender: nobody@acsu.Buffalo.EDU Reply-To: v056qkt3@ubvmsb.cc.buffalo.edu Distribution: alt Organization: University at Buffalo Lines: 28 In article <14567@reed.UUCP>, mojo@reed.bitnet (it's alright ma, I'm only bleeding) writes... >In article <2478@raven.ukc.ac.uk> ljgw@ukc.ac.uk (Liam Wickham) writes: >"Agreed, Liam," he says, only to realize that Liam has vanished during the >preceding paragraph. "Oh, well. An open question, then: what's the same >about them and why do we care? > >"Devil's advocate, of course; I *do* think a child's and an adult's >innocence are the same at bottom, and I *am* interested, so bear with me. >I'm just interested enough to think out loud. > >"Takers?" > The poet stands from his corner table, and clears his throat. "I can testify to the similarity in innocence. My experience in life has been that innocence is pain waiting to happen. It is lessons that are yet to be learned, instead of contemplated. A child's innocence is pure, and must therefore be forgiven. An adult's innocence is sometimes pure luck, but is most often his or her own ignorance about the world around them. "I hope that none of you have fallen into the trap of innocence, for it can be a deadly one for those who don't turn away from it." The poet moves back into his corner, barely making the seat in his drunkeness. wildy v056qkt3@ubvms.bitnet v056qkt3@ubvms.cc.buffalo.edu haskell@autarch.cc.buffalo.edu Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!usc!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!wuarchive!psuvax1!xavier!news From: hrr91@campus.swarthmore.edu Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Songster Message-ID: Date: 2 Apr 90 17:37:23 GMT Sender: news@xavier.swarthmore.edu (USENET News System) Organization: Swarthmore College Lines: 14 > Thalen stands and walks over to Eretria, and kneeles at her feet, with >his eyes shining. "Please, PLEASE, just for a second. I won't hurt it, I >promise! Really! Just one song. Yes, I know how, not too well, but I can >do a little." Thalen suddenly realizes that he hasn't explained himself very >well, and draws himself up, attempting to look respectible, and failing. >Instead he manages to look about as dignified as a puzzled (but very eager) >Newfie puppy. "I.. ah.. Could I possibly borrow your lute." Grin. The light between Eretria's eyes glows, the eyes themselves are smiling. A breeze of cherry blossoms fresh, pink. /Kneeling is unnecessary, but compliments us both. Her name is Gena -- and she would be honored to join you in song/ The wood of the lute is soft as Eretria hands it to Thalen. -Message-Text-Follows- Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!bat.cis.ohio-state.edu!kent_a_jenkins From: kent_a_jenkins@bat.cis.ohio-state.edu Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Good day all... Summary: Why, hello, there. Message-ID: <78752@tut.cis.ohio-state.edu> Date: 2 Apr 90 17:20:23 GMT References: <20419@eerie.acsu.Buffalo.EDU> Sender: usenet_news@tut.cis.ohio-state.edu Reply-To: Thenomain Organization: Ohio State University Computer and Information Science Lines: 64 In article <20419@eerie.acsu.Buffalo.EDU> v056qkt3@ubvmsd.cc.buffalo.edu writes: [Wonderful tale of self-sacrifice deleted just because the news server doesn't like me restating old hat...] [The tragedy in question deleted for much the same reason.] > { I gave up myself for someone who didn't want me. I learned how it is >to love, and to hate, and to hurt. There is still much I don't know, and I >have decided that I don't want to learn it from experience. I have decided >that my job is to watch, observe, contemplate, and write. That is what I am >here for. I have never drank before. Not a drop. Bartender? I placed a twenty >there for you. I want you to take that and make sure I have enough to get me >completely drunk. } To this comment, Thenomain looks over his shoulder at the man standing next to him, ragged and very writer-like. Thenomain, almost a juxtaposition in an almost militant style, looks at the twenty with a somewhat saddened expression in his eyes, and a blank look on his face. > { I would like to make a toast. There are many people in this world >who will learn through experience what others before them could have told >them. I learned through experience what I could have contemplated. I drink >to those people who find away around the pain, for the are the great >navigators. I drink to pain, which is the reason that I have returned to >myself, and I drink to this little notebook. It's the only true friend I >have ever had. } Thenomain watches the man walk over to the chalk line (something he wishes he had done before he ended up a part of the furnature) with still the blank face, but the eyes holding obvious interest. > He drains the glass of wine, and lobs it toward the fireplace. It >breaks just short of the fireplace. "Um..." Thenomain, once again, seems a little unsure of his words. "Well, no, not exactly." He stands up, straightening his jacket and the cyberdeck strapped over his shoulder. Taking the Pepsi ("The Choice of a Cybered Generation!") with him, he joins Wildy at the corner table. "How many corners ARE there to this bloody bar?" he mumbles. "Say, you know, I've been thinking about most of that. I can't rightly say that I've offered to give up who I am for another person (hey, give me a break, I'm only nineteen), but you talk about 'navigating around the pain.'" Thenomain smirks a moment. "There is no real way around it. It happens, come hell or high water, and you can only make the best of it. "And humans will be humans, might I add. And, like it or not, everyone here is just as human as the next. And that means, above all else, we're fickle. We're fickle because we're free to be fickle. And we're quite egotistical at times, which means we will do things without a second thought for another human or, for that matter, creature. "I'll keep my philosopihic... or psychoanalytical, I never could remember which it was, rambings to a minumum. I just /meant/ to say that the only way around pain is going right through it. "And, believe it or not, there are people out there who wish they did have a little more pain previously, to teach them what could happen." The lad fishes around in a pocket and pulls out what appears to be a quite ordinary deck of cards and begins shuffling them. "Poker? I'm not rich, or anything, so we'll have to play for..." He considers a moment, looking off into the haze where he always seems to look when thinking. "How about stories. Fact or fiction, rhyming or not. I always did like stories. -=- -- Thenomain -- Kent Jenkins -- Card-carrying zealot -- -- jenkins@osu-20.ircc.ohio-state.edu -- in the Order of the -- -- kent-j@cis.ohio-state.edu -- Fweeble. -- Path: mit-eddie!mit-amt!snorkelwacker!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!pt.cs.cmu.edu!andrew.cmu.edu!mr2w+ From: mr2w+@andrew.cmu.edu (Michael F. Riccio) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Yet another newcomer Message-ID: Date: 1 Apr 90 22:42:53 GMT Organization: Mathematics, Carnegie Mellon, Pittsburgh, PA Lines: 61 Amidst all the kittens, cats, fuzzies, creatures great and small, and people, nobody happens to notice the man sitting by himself in one of the O(n^n) corners of the room. Or, more appropriately, nobody notices him because he really isn't there completely, for lack of a better way of putting it. Perhaps if you walked by his table, you might see something out of the corner of your eye, but when you turned to look to see what it was, you would only see an empty table. If you could see him, you would notice that he has been sitting at the same table for the past couple of weeks, intently listening to the various conversations that have occurred. Currently, you would see a man dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, with longish brown hair and a matching pair of brown eyes idly stroking a green tiger kitten while he stares off into the distance. Suddenly, several people in the vicinity notice something in their peripheral vision, but when they turn to look, they see an empty table in an empty corner. At precisely the same instant, Mike notices something out of the corner of his eye, and turns to see a dollar bill sitting next to a green tiger kitten, somewhat startled from its unexpected journey. Mike smiles and exchanges the bill for a glass of ice water, which our friend, who is suddenly visible to the virtual world around him, takes a large gulp from. He then turns around and begins to speak. "Um, hi," he awkwardly states, as the murmur in the room fades. "My name is Swugu. A good friend of mine told me about this place a couple of weeks ago, and I decided to take a look around. I was awed by the quality of the people I listened to. I've been lurking in a corner since then, listening to the conversations and watching the events as they unfolded, and now I've finally gotten up the nerve to introduce myself." He attempts a smile, but it comes out more like a nervous twitch. Nonetheless, people seem to welcome him as he takes another gulp from his drink. "I don't really have much to say at this point, other than to thank everyone for being the caring people that they are. I'd like to go naming some people, but proper nouns never did stay in my brain for long; give me enough time, however, and I will come to learn them. I have much to tell, but it will all come out in due time. For now, I'd just like to sit in the corner, listen to people, and talk to anyone who like to stop by and chat for a bit." As he takes another sip from, his glass, he suddenly remembers something rather important, and almost spills the ice water all over himself. "Oh yeah, if you have trouble finding me, it's often because you're looking too hard. I'll be over there,"he says, as he points to the table in the n-kth corner. "If you think you see something out of the corner of your eye, that's probably me - and once you recognize that, I'll be easy to spot. I'm just someone who usually goes unnoticed, that's all." As his last words fade away, so does Swugu. Over in the n-kth corner, if you weren't paying attention, you might have noticed someone appear suddenly, drinking a glass of ice water while staring out the window, apparently lost in thought. -- Mike Riccio Arpa: mr2w+@andrew.cmu.edu Carnegie Mellon University Bitnet: R746MR2W@CMCCVB Disclaimer: I speak for no one, including myself. Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!usc!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!sunybcs!ubvms.cc.buffalo.edu!v056qkt3 From: v056qkt3@ubvmsb.cc.buffalo.edu (William W Haskell) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Good day all... Summary: Why, hello, there. Message-ID: <20508@eerie.acsu.Buffalo.EDU> Date: 2 Apr 90 13:39:37 GMT References: <20419@eerie.acsu.Buffalo.EDU> Sender: nobody@acsu.Buffalo.EDU Reply-To: v056qkt3@ubvmsb.cc.buffalo.edu Organization: University at Buffalo Lines: 52 In article <78752@tut.cis.ohio-state.edu>, kent_a_jenkins@bat.cis.ohio-state.edu writes... > "Say, you know, I've been thinking about most of that. I can't rightly say >that I've offered to give up who I am for another person (hey, give me a >break, I'm only nineteen), but you talk about 'navigating around the pain.'" >Thenomain smirks a moment. "There is no real way around it. It happens, >come hell or high water, and you can only make the best of it. > "And humans will be humans, might I add. And, like it or not, everyone >here is just as human as the next. And that means, above all else, we're >fickle. We're fickle because we're free to be fickle. And we're quite >egotistical at times, which means we will do things without a second thought >for another human or, for that matter, creature. You say much that I wishto hide from myself. You say much that I already know. you know much that you have yet to say. Much that I mayhap need to here. I welcome you. Pain is my specialty, you see. I write about it. I have found that in life pain has been my closest companion. I am very ungrateful to my best friend. Is this not wrong? I would not call pain a friend exactly. But I know him better than anyone else. As he knows me. Love is pain. The problem with love is that once you learn how to feel it, you never forget. I catch myself feeling all the time. I try to shut it off, but it keeps coming back. I hate myself for the weakness. As a writer, I wish to keep myself nuetral, as a person, I wish to keep myself ice. I obtained it once before, but then I learned love. I was not happy as ice, but from what is induced by love, I would be much more comfortable with no feeling than with pain. I have much left to learn, as Iam now starting over. i want to learn what all of this is. I will ovrcome the notion of ice eventually. This is why I came here. I will learn what it is to feel. To know. Even if I learn to hurt, I feel it is important for me. I know I contradict myself often. I know what I know, but for the first time in my life, I know not how to express it. Hell of a thing for a poet not to know what to say, is it not? > "Poker? I'm not rich, or anything, so we'll have to play for..." He >considers a moment, looking off into the haze where he always seems to look >when thinking. "How about stories. Fact or fiction, rhyming or not. I >always did like stories. Alright, let's make the Ante a little about ourselves... I am wildy haskell. I am nineteen years of age, and I have made a lot of mistakes. They were bad mistakes, because I refused to learn what they taught. I am now a child again, of my own choosing, and Ilearn again what is like to live. wildy v056qkt3@ubvms.bitnet v056qkt3@ubvms.cc.buffalo.edu haskell@autarch.acsu.buffalo.edu haskell@lictor.acsu.buffalo.edu