Newsgroups: alt.callahans Path: mit-eddie!wuarchive!psuvax1!xavier!hankins From: hankins@cs.swarthmore.edu (Luke Hankins) Subject: Sigh.... Message-ID: Sender: news@xavier.swarthmore.edu (USENET News System) Organization: The 'Real' World Date: Fri, 6 Apr 90 08:06:19 GMT Ender just seems to wander up to the bar, from where, no one can be sure. Dumping a roll of MUDpennies onto the bar, he orders a Mountain Dew. "It's 3AM here, hope this keeps me awake" he mumbles to himself. He walks slowly to the line, giving you a chance to really look at him. The first thing you notice is the tiny black kitten riding on his shoulder, matching his beret, and, in fact every other item of colthing he is wearing. The dull black jumpsuit covers his tall thin frame, and his face is a mask void of emotion. Reaching the chalk line, he holds the glass up for the kitten to drink from, and begins to speak. "Wow. I saw this place being built from the ground up. I left for a while, but came back, just because I needed a place to talk." He looks around and notices a few friends in the corners. "Hi Hildebaby! Funny how I only found that you had mono in here. Guess I don't get around much any more. Sigh... Oh, well, I'll be back in the fall." Continuing their roving, his eyes reach Nao and stop. "Hi there. Hope you and your ex are getting along. Ya know, I just had done to me what I did to you last spring, and it hurts like hell. I'm gladthings worked out as well as they did, dispite my stupid bumbling. *hug*" Ender absentmindedly strokes his kitten as he stares into the fire. "Like a few people here, I'm unable to cry. It sucks. But I'm get ahead of myself." "I met Rachel eight months ago as the sister of a friend's friend. we were going out soon thereafter, and did so for just under six months. I was truly happy for a while, but dealing with her mother grew to be too much of a strain, and I was LJBFed. Ok, so it was a mutual decision, but I've grown to despise my part in it." "Oh, right, it might help to know that she was 16, and I'm 19." He explains. "Well, since then, I've been really depressed, moping around and just wondering what to do whith my life. I tried flirting, one of the true joys in life, and that worked for a while, but it ended up being the classic 'Hold one person while thinking of another.' Ick. I know that in the long run I'll be ok, but at the moment, it hurts like hell. Why? Why couldn't she have had a mother like mine, instead of one the won't let her apply yo Earlham because it's 'too liberal'? (And I go to Swarthmore, no wonder she didn't like me...)" Looking at the clock, he remembers what time he has to work today and sighs. Loomking down at the chalk line at his feet, he shrugs and walks, no, pads up to the fireplace. Removing the kittens head from the now empty glass, he places it gingerly on the flaming logs. "To Time.... May She heal all wounds." Stepping back, Ender waits for a moment until the glass explodes with a tinkle, and wanders off to a dark corner to cry. Virtual crying is better than none at all... -- ______________________________________________________________________________ Luke Hankins (alh92@swarthmr.bitnet) |"Ah, It's great being young and insane!" hankins@cs.swarthmore.edu |"She thought I was crazy, but I was just While not (EndOfLife) do Havefun(me);| growing old...." --Steely Dan Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!ukma!usenet.ins.cwru.edu!ncoast!allbery From: allbery@NCoast.ORG (Brandon S. Allbery) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Yeah cats! (was Re: Some ramblings) Message-ID: <1990Apr3.233448.5424@NCoast.ORG> Date: 3 Apr 90 23:34:48 GMT References: <9003292120.AA05832@rush.cc.cmu.edu> <1990Mar31.012432.13643@NCoast.ORG> <8803@pogo.WV.TEK.COM> Reply-To: allbery@ncoast.ORG (Brandon S. Allbery) Followup-To: alt.callahans Organization: North Coast Public Access UN*X, Cleveland, OH Lines: 17 As quoted from <8803@pogo.WV.TEK.COM> by andyd@pogo.WV.TEK.COM (Laura Davidson): +--------------- | In article <1990Mar31.012432.13643@NCoast.ORG> allbery@ncoast.ORG (Brandon S. Allbery) writes: | >"Hmmm. I wish I understood her. Wonder who or what she was toasting?" | | "Now, now. This is Callahan's. And Fast Eddie is watching for someone | prying." +--------------- Tsk, tsk. One expects to be able to at least understand the *words* of the toast, if not their meaning. (If a sound like a cross between a siren and a slide whistle can be said to have "words", that is.) ++Brandon -- Brandon S. Allbery (human), allbery@NCoast.ORG (Internet), BALLBERY (MCI Mail) ALLBERY (Delphi), uunet!cwjcc.cwru.edu!ncoast!allbery (UUCP), BrandonA (A-OL) Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!think!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!usc!cs.utexas.edu!uunet!mcsun!ukc!newcastle.ac.uk!news From: Daarin Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: A Few Words... Message-ID: <1990Apr6.065659.7137@newcastle.ac.uk> Date: 6 Apr 90 06:56:59 GMT Sender: news@newcastle.ac.uk Distribution: alt Organization: University of Newcastle upon Tyne, UK, NE1 7RU Lines: 75 Picking himself up from the floor, where he has been lying quietly smirking to himself ever since he left his seat at the bar so precipitately, Daarin smooths some of the creases from his shirt and picks up his hat. One or two fuzzies seem to have attached themselves to his sleeves and are trying, with commendable success, to go to sleep there. He thinks of moving them to someplace more comfortable, but then thinks better of it and leaves them alone for a while. Placing a small stack of coins on the bar-top, he orders a few drinks and, barely managing to carry them all, sets off across the room. First stop, Wildy's table. Putting one of the drinks down beside the notebook, 'old fuzz-features' speaks softly... "I do not know exactly what to say to you, for, even though I have moved through a similar country to the one in which you now find yourself, I have not followed the same path or seen the same places. However, I can understand the way that you feel and I just want to let you know that the pain _will_ fade with time, leaving behind a small flower of wisdom. We all need to learn as we go through life and the only way to do so is by making the occasional mistakes and feeling that agony which we must all bear at some time or another. I do not think that there _are_ any great navigators who find the way around pain - it comes to everyone eventually and the only way past the pain is to go through it, without giving in to apathy or despair. Only then can you come to understand what you have been feeling and come to terms with life in all of its shades, hues and forms. So take heart, my friend and be assured that there are people who care. And _write_, Wildy - let your feelings flow into your words, for you will surely profit by that just as much as they will." With a faint smile, Daarin moves on, leaving behind one of the small warm fuzzies, now purring contentedly on the table-top. His next stop is beside another newcomer... "Welcome, Ralph. I too delight in self-searching and introspection. I have also 'annulled a romance' because I wasn't very proud of my own behaviour and I have, in the past, been guilty of hiding from my emotions. So, you could say that we are very alike, we two (although I am not an Eagle scout, or any other kind of scout for that matter). Well, for whatever reason, have a drink on me. (Ginger ale, of course!)" Stepping back across the bar-room, Daarin narrowly avoids being spitted by the (official?) Callahan's fencing team. Leaving two drinks on a table, he cries out... "These are for you two, when you've finished trying to turn one another into virtual sieves!" With a devilish grin on his face, he dodges a half-hearted swipe from Thalen and narrowly avoids the same from Jilara. Approaching the window where Nick is standing, he places a small glass of fine-grade oil on the sill... "This is for you, for all of the work which you do to keep us from swimming in a sea of broken glass!" Finally, Daarin steps up to the chalk line... "You'll be pleased(?) to hear that I'm going away for a couple of weeks now. I have been called to visit a far-off land named Eire and won't be back until near the end of the month. In the meantime, here's the best toast which I could think of : To _you_. All of you. What more can I say?" Suddenly, he has gone, leaving behind one slightly confused warm fuzzy (now sitting on the back of a passing green kitten) and an empty glass. The glass hangs for a moment in mid-air, before exploding into a rainbow shower of sweet-scented, soft dust. Meanwhile, the kitten delivers its small fuzzy burden to Lyra - for this seems to be the right place. "Huh! Never could stand a show-off!" someone mutters. /=====================================\ < Daarin | A.Waterworth@uk.ac.newcastle > \=====================================/ Path: mit-eddie!mintaka!yale!cs.utexas.edu!uunet!zephyr.ens.tek.com!tektronix!reed!thalen From: thalen@reed.bitnet (Thalen the confused) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Something to say Summary: Bleah. Keywords: silly Message-ID: <14635@reed.UUCP> Date: 5 Apr 90 23:00:43 GMT References: <78854@tut.cis.ohio-state.edu> Sender: news@reed.UUCP Reply-To: thalen@reed.bitnet (Thalen the confused) Organization: Reed College, Portland, OR Lines: 14 Thenomain: } 'Twas brillig and the integrals were gyre and gimble in the wabe. } All limits were the borogoves, and the calculations outgrabe. } "Beware the Calculus, my son. The jaws that bite, the limits that } catch. } Beware the Jub-Jub Bird and shun the Integrating Bundersnatch." Thalen raises his fencing mask for just long enough to look upset to his stomach. He conjures a peanut about the size of a (DECstation 3100) toaster, which is obviously made of foam rubber, and chucks it at Thenomain, before getting back to his buisness of aquiring welts. :-) Thalen, Irreparable Punster Path: mit-eddie!mit-amt!snorkelwacker!usc!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!sunybcs!ubvms.cc.buffalo.edu!v118pv6e From: v118pv6e@ubvmsb.cc.buffalo.edu (Christophe R Invidiata) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: WARNING - Lurker Alert Message-ID: <20963@eerie.acsu.Buffalo.EDU> Date: 6 Apr 90 10:20:37 GMT Sender: nobody@acsu.Buffalo.EDU Reply-To: v118pv6e@ubvmsb.cc.buffalo.edu Organization: Asylum at Buffalo Lines: 19 I've been a'lurkin' outside this here establishment for quite a while now, so I figured that now is as good a time as any to walk in. A tallish man with long, curly black hair, a black leather jacket with some odd painting on the back, a t-shirt with a large "A" in a circle, torn jeans and large black boots ambles up to the bar, tosses a dollar to mike, grabs up his shot of Southern Comfort and walks over to the line. He pauses for a moment, just staring at the flames. He then tosses back the shot, hold up the glass and says - " Here's to the final edge of a dying rebellion. The last call for the last cause," and whips the glass into the flames with a sound like a rifle shot. He stands there for another moment, shivering, then seems to shake something off, and strides up to the bar with a half-sarcastic grin. "So what's the theme of the night, gentlepersons?" Zippo T.C. Path: mit-eddie!mit-amt!snorkelwacker!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!ucbvax!HAWK.ULOWELL.EDU!wgarmil From: wgarmil@HAWK.ULOWELL.EDU (WildCard) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Is anybody....out there? Message-ID: <9004061534.AA12576@hawk> Date: 6 Apr 90 15:34:37 GMT Sender: daemon@ucbvax.BERKELEY.EDU Lines: 27 Subject: Tommy, can hear me...? The random one must be in a good mood today. He is currently only about a foot tall, flying around the room in his make-shift "superhero" costume of his own design, buzzing the kittens, and laughing. He stops flying, hoving about five feet in the air over the chalk line. "Whew! Not *that's* what I call fun!" "Before I forget why I stopped by today, I have a question to ask (a mun- dane one, unfortunately): is anyone besides myself seeing these messages? I am currently trying a new path, and need to know if I'm finally getting thru." "I know this really isn't the place to ask such a mundane question, but I do need to know if I am able to participate in the discussions." As WildCard starts to fly around the bar again, you can hear him mutter (hopefully joking) "Where's Kevin? Hehehe! >:-)" _ __ _ __ How can we dance ' ) / // / / ) / when our earth is turning? / / / o // __/ / __. __ __/ How can we sleep (_(_/ <_ Date: 4 Apr 90 22:31:30 GMT References: <2478@raven.ukc.ac.uk> Organization: HP Colorado Networks Division Lines: 37 > 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. "Ouch!" Jazz winces and turns. "I believe your experience and empathize as well as I can, but it hurts to know that some experience it that way." He puzzles a second over this sentence, trying to find a way to reword it, failing, shaking his head. > "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." "Ouch again. I think I disagree that the innocence of adults is always the same as that of the child. I agree that, in some sense, innocence is indeed lessons to be learned. I think that the adult's innocence is based in the contemplation of that very fact! The truly innocent adult, secure in his pain and memory of lessons learned and of the knowledge that surely more pain lies ahead, nonetheless awaits the coming lessons full of breathless wonder and with awe." He looks down at his shirt, brushes a bit of dirt off the "/nev/dull" printed in friendly pink ink on blue cotton. "The loss of innocence comes with that loss of wonderment, of awe. With the belief that the worst is over, and quite possibly the best as well; with the hubris that we understand the world. The difference between an adult's innocence and a child's is that an adult knows what innocence is, knows that he or she possesses some sense of it, knows that it can be lost far more easily than it can be regained. "Of course, I could be wrong. The world continues to surprise me, especially within these walls." Jazz Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!apple!mips!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!samsung!sdd.hp.com!hplabs!hpfcso!daq From: daq@hpfcso.HP.COM (Doug Quarnstrom) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Free Association for Freedom Fighters Message-ID: <9060055@hpfcso.HP.COM> Date: 5 Apr 90 04:31:11 GMT Organization: Hewlett-Packard, Fort Collins, CO, USA Lines: 87 It is cold and raining outiside now. I can hear the grass singing. The city lights from my balcony scream and shout of mankind's never ending love of nature. I am bold and energetic. So here is something to confuse and confound you. _-* _-* _-* _-* _-* _-* _-* _-* _-* _-* _-* _-* _-* _-* _-* _-* I sing the churnings and infinite burnings. We all toe the line when earing our way. Feet on the ground and arms in the air and limitless Lines of meticulous, ridiculous, violent hair. Faces and places and feelings and hurt. Sallow and shallow. Infinite cheerleaders in mini skirts. It just doesn't work. They line up in queues, in tatty old shoes, To remonstrate, Pontificate. It just doesn't pay. Oh Sure! They'll show us the way. Well thanks and good bye. No time to cry for you or myself. I keep my hearts on darkened old shelves. I know you. Should I show you? Not a chance! No space in my veins for bleeding romance. Lines on lips and rotating hips remind me of motions and the potions for success. Elaborate formulae for simple excess. Retreat when defeated is what he once told me. She sold me her soul to comfort and hold me. They lined up for miles to scoff and behold me. They laugh and they cringe as their spirits are singed. But the flowing soothes. A balm that removes the heat. It is calm and discrete and never tells what it knows. It shows me some things, and it hums and it sings Of times long ago and places remote. It reminds me of hope. Insanity. Vanity. Love and duress. I get the feeling they're not impressed at all With the little games and devices. Or personal vices. It takes more to show them that I am not me, That they are not we. It rises, despising all. It stands straight and tall. It looks around, making no sound. A titan! An icon to self sufficiency. Oh Mary Magdalene, where are you now? I bow to your maudlin caresses. And your flowing tresses fill the skies, Bring tears to my eyes. Jesus forgave you, but did he save you? Did you die old an alone? Did Paul disown you? Did the Pharisees phone you? Oooohhhh! It just doesn't makes sense. Tearing down walls to put up fences. God I hate these defenses. Cold and pretentious. Old and entrenched. Dallying. Dithering. We wither away. Doug----------------------------------------------------- Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!usc!cs.utexas.edu!samsung!sdd.hp.com!hplabs!hpfcso!daq From: daq@hpfcso.HP.COM (Doug Quarnstrom) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Silence Message-ID: <9060056@hpfcso.HP.COM> Date: 5 Apr 90 06:14:03 GMT Organization: Hewlett-Packard, Fort Collins, CO, USA Lines: 29 It is very late. The net is silent now. The carriers are resting. The human voices are sleeping. The radio voices of the stars speak to me now. They speak of thousands of light years of desolation and separation. I hear them and understand. They enhance me. The human voices are still. Their hope and despair and anxiety safely tucked into a different virtual reality. The silence comforts me. It reminds me of the icy chill on my feet caused by a stream on a hot summer day in the mountains of Vancouver Island. It reminds me of the cool mist, encountered after a hot and tiring hike to the top of Multnoma falls in Oregon. The electronic void feels like the vast blue-black of the ocean at 120 feet off the walls of the continental shelf. I see vastness there. Cool. Chill. Separate. Big life. Moving out of my vision, but there nevertheless. In the silence of this wonderful void, I wish you all love and hope and happiness. :-| 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: Reality Check ($32.95) Summary: The Meaning of... well... Message-ID: <78976@tut.cis.ohio-state.edu> Date: 6 Apr 90 16:37:12 GMT Sender: usenet_news@tut.cis.ohio-state.edu Reply-To: Thenomain Organization: Ohio State University Computer and Information Science Lines: 53 Thenomain watches Thalen throw a huge Penut at him, and dodges it as it comes crashing by. "Thank goodness you didn't say that was the size of a furnace (DECSYSTEMS-2060) or I wouldn't be here today." The lad seems somewhat pleased. "I could recite the rest of that parody of a parody, if you would like, oh Thalen the Wizard." He smirks wryly. "If it doth beseech thee." He nods and turns, once again, back to his card game and looks up at Wildy. "Was that your bid, or were you just talking to the crowd again?" Thenomain eyes his opponent's cards curiously. "Reality Check, please!" Thenomain extends his hand out, palm up, and some passer-by slaps a large peice of paper on it. The lad takes the paper in his hands and almost gags. "Was I /this/ real, or something?" He squints, reading something at the bottem of the tab. Fine print. "Oooohhhh... Blast. I knew I shouldn't have come in here dressed as myself, looking like myself, and acting like myself. At least in alt.slack I would have just been killed by those slackards." He sighs, shrugs, and places the bill on the slick-topped table in front of him. -=- [Being a little out of phase here, folks. Forgive me if I stop being virtual for a few lines.] I don't know about the rest of you, but in the very brief time that I've been here at alt.callahans, I've noticed that the discussion is of the supportive type, about pain and lonliness and of getting over it. I trust very few people with this sort of information and instead go the alternate route - not talk about the aforementioned. Recently, (alright, yesterday) I decided that my attitude was generally borish (for me, at least), that I wasn't having any of the appropriate fun that should pretty damn well be in everyone's lives, in one form or another. (I just like to recite really silly poetry, so sue me.) No, I don't know exactly what I'm trying to say (that's a norm with me), except, perhaps, I'm taking all of this seriousness far too much to heart. I am genuinely concerned about this roomfull of depression (although I did like the fencing, though I didn't understand half of it). Black isn't my kind of color, I suppose. I wear it to enhance other colors. Greens, blues, reds, yellows (I just stay away from this because it doesn't look good on me), browns. It's more than a black/white world out there and I'm almost positive that every single one of you can say something good about it. It's just a matter of wanting to try. [We now return you to your regularly scheduled oddities already underway.] -=- ...looks at the broken pencil in his hand. Snapping his gaze up at the assailant, Thenomain lunges, pencil peices in hand, for the man's throat. "This is for Hubert!" -=- -- 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. --