Path: mit-eddie!rutgers!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 (Laura Davidson) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: reflections/reply/ah well Message-ID: <8914@pogo.WV.TEK.COM> Date: 18 Apr 90 02:42:00 GMT Reply-To: andyd@pogo.WV.TEK.COM (Laura Davidson) Distribution: na Organization: Tektronix Guest Lines: 60 A rock, timeworn, rounded, amidst millions of other such rocks, small and insignifigant and chipped away by them. A sense of the inevitable. A cloudy, grey sky from which fat raindrops fall. Sadness and depression. Quickly covered by a stone wall. Uncaring, death of feeling. A faint though-stream. How important it can be and is, not to care, feel, not to exist fully in any real sense. Emptiness, alone, stillness and silence. A swirling haze. Loss, pain, confusion. A curious sense of detachment, almost amusement. Self-ridicule. A volcano. Hate, anger, fury. A soap bubble forms around the image, then solidifies. It hides the rest behind its strong-looking but actually fragile form. A tenuous, fake-feeling peace. Lyra solidifies, a neutral look set firmly on her face. "Pardon me, folks, if I seem a little upset. You have all been very supportive and helpful, but recent events have conspired against your efforts, one in particular. So now I think I am back where I started." I am replying in a post to e-mail sent to me by a lurker. Several things I feel should be said. This isn't meant to flame a person, but I'm mad so it may come off sounding that way. And there are three reasons I am replying in a post rather than via e-mail: A) The lurker didn't sign it. I don't intend to reply to a nameless person via e-mail, or to attempt to `converse' directly with someone who doesn't sign their letters. Or at least give me a name to call 'em by. B) Obviously this needs saying again, though I thought it had gotten through to everyone by now. So I'm saying it. and C) I need to get it out of my system. So here's my reply, and a bit of other stuff. "To the lurker who wrote me saying (s)he was ashamed of the lot of us, because we knew no better than to believe in every fairy tale and fantasy that came our way, like trusting children: did you miss Jilara's post? The Place is real; we have RECREATED IT. I -and no doubt others are as well- am *sick* of being told it isn't real, that nothing like this exists or can exist. We are all well aware that the Place exists only in virtual space, but within that frame of reference, it *is* real. And obviously something like it can exist, because it does. And I resent, though resentment has little place in CAllahans, I resent your comment that Callahans is just a `useless waste of money which should be removed from the net'." Lyra looks highly annoyed. "It's a wonderful Place, filled with wonderful people - who were well on their way to helping me and each other!" Lyra looks angry. "And I cannot believe you called the lot of us psychotics who belonged in mental institutions! Though yuo **ARE** driving me in that direction!!" ^^^^^^^ Lyra looks furious, and glares about. Her glance lands on an empty chair nearby. She picks it up and throws it, HARD, into a corner. You hear splintering wood. Then she starts to cry (cry, not CRY) uncontrollably. -- A voice said, Look me in the stars |~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~| And tell me truly, men of earth, | Shannalyralythia | If all the soul-and-body scars |________________________________| Were not too much to pay for birth. -Robert Frost, A Question Path: mit-eddie!bbn!granite!mwolf From: mwolf@granite.cr.bull.com (Mary-Anne Wolf) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: a toast and a poem Summary: a first poem after being long stuck (slightly modified repost) Message-ID: <1990Apr18.134505.17385@granite.cr.bull.com> Date: 18 Apr 90 13:45:05 GMT Reply-To: mwolf@granite.cr.bull.com (Mary-Anne Wolf) Organization: Bull HN Information Systems Inc. Lines: 79 A female voice comes softly from the vicinity of the ceiling. "An ice-water if you please, Mike." Mike puts some ice in a glass and fills it with water. A semi-transparent bubble appears and floats down to the bar. A hand reaches out of the bubble and puts a crumpled bill next to the glass, and takes the glass into the bubble. The bubble's occupant drinks the water and tosses the glass quite gently underhand into the fireplace, where it lands with a "chink" and rests horizontally on the logs unshattered, and the ice-cubes spill out slowly and melt with soft hissing sounds. The bubble fades away and the voice continues over the hissing from the position in mid-air from which the glass was tossed. "A toast...to poetry and loneliness. I used to write dozens of poems - if I could think it, I knew how to say it - in free-verse, in rhyme, in French, whatever. I've been published and everything. I stopped writing some years ago because I had nothing to say that seemed worth recording, much less sharing, at least that's how it felt. I guess I missed it. Possibly thanks to the postings of poetry here, especially by the (ex?) Cynic, I seem to have gotten unstuck, so while the subject matter is probably one you've heard as much about as you care to, I'd like to share my first attempt in a long time here before showing it to anyone else. And thank-you to everyone here who shared their poetry. And encouragement to those who are thinking about doing so. I am free. I am free. No-one else depends on me. I noticed one morning that flowers were blooming in places and didn't know flowers would grow. I did tell my parents and colleagues and others but no-one else saw them. There's no-one to show. I am free. I am free. No-one else depends on me. I went to Seattle. The flight was a battle. The air there rare clear like a Maine autumn day. But I took no photos and I sent no letters, And no-one had missed me when I went away. I am free. I am free. No-one else depends on me. See movies alone and read menus alone. My persona on-line is invisible too. It's of my own making. It's of my own doing. And if I don't like it what else should I do? I am free. I am free. No-one else depends on me. Folks think that I'm wedded, a family I never said anything of. I guess things do not show. If I died with the flowers, and lay there for hours, Sure, all people die, but would anyone know? I am free. I am free. No-one else depends on me." The ice has melted and evaporated into puffs of steam. The glass now dry cracks loudly from the heat with a sound that makes one think of glaciers - and the glass finally shatters. Mary-Anne Wolf mwolf@granite.cr.bull.com or mwolf@pws.bull.com (this address may be broken so use granite<) "She was a fish-monger, and sure t'was no wonder, for so were her mother and father before." -- Cockles and Muscles, a folk-song whose lyrics' scansion is used in some of the above poem P.S. I'm trying to remember whether I responded in the conversation on touching, to figure out whether mine was the supposedly angry letter being referred to and explicitly not quoted. I know I thought about responding, but I cannot find the letter. If it was me, I was not angry, just tired of posters feeling superior to those who act as if "hands off" is good manners. Different strokes (or lack of same) for different folks. If you want to be touched, and you don't know the other person's rules, ask "May I give you a hug?" and accept "no" as a possible answer. I know that's easier to suggest than to do. -- Path: mit-eddie!rutgers!usc!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!sdd.hp.com!hplabs!hplred!egly From: egly@hplred.HP.COM (Diana Egly) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Touch Message-ID: <20940054@hplred.HP.COM> Date: 18 Apr 90 02:55:29 GMT References: <9004171550.AA12040@fsdcupt.csd.mot.COM> Organization: Hewlett Packard Labs, Palo Alto CA Lines: 17 / hplred:alt.callahans / jane@fsdcupt.csd.mot.COM (Jane Beckman x4030) / 3:50 pm Apr 17, 1990 / > There may be some babies who cry harder when Mama picks them > up, and stop when they are put down, but I haven't heard of them. One early indication that a baby is autistic is that it cries when it is picked up and stops when put down. Some autistic babies arch their backs to avoid being touched or cuddled. So now you've heard. This is not to negate anything that you've said, Jilara. I hope you know we're in agreement as regards what you say about touch. I had a friend who called it "primate hunger" and although I can point out exceptions, that doesn't mean that I'm unaware that I'm talking exceptions. it primate hunger Path: mit-eddie!mintaka!think!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!brutus.cs.uiuc.edu!psuvax1!xavier!news From: nap92@campus.swarthmore.edu Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Nao comes running back in Message-ID: Date: 18 Apr 90 14:34:53 GMT Sender: news@xavier.swarthmore.edu (USENET News System) Organization: Swarthmore College Lines: 31 The door opens again, and in runs Nao, her green skirt barely missing getting caught in the door. She is about to simply head over into the dance corner, now that there are enough dancers, but she hears Lyra's tale, and witnesses the chair being thrown. She reaches into the bag she's got slung over her shoulder, rummages, and pulls out a handkerchief. "Here, this may not be much help, and I know you're not capital CRYING, but... Oh, I don't know. Just trying to be helpful. If it's any consolation, I certainly don't think any of us belong in mental asylums. And this is CERTAINLY not a waste of money, this Place. If it's actually helping people (and I know it's helped me) then it is a Good Thing. I'm glad you're here, and I'm glad all of us are here." And with that, she looks a bit embarrassed, hands Lyra the handkerchief (which opens to reveal a warm fuzzy inside), and heads off to her corner. She pulls some sheet music out of her bag and hands it to Orion. "Thanks for piping for us. here's the music. Ok you dancers, you. Time for practice." *** Time seems to be moving more quickly in the dance corner, as the practice goes on. Nao pops her head out of the corner. "We should be ready soon!" *hugs* Nao / v \ | Nao Parkhurst | | | nap92@campus.swarthmore.edu | Insert warm fuzzy here | | nap92@swarthmr.bitnet | | \ ^ / Path: mit-eddie!mintaka!think!sdd.hp.com!ucsd!ucbvax!PICA.ARMY.MIL!skitchen From: skitchen@PICA.ARMY.MIL ("D. Scott Kitchen", CCH-V) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Love Square Message-ID: <9004181055.aa13443@CC1.PICA.ARMY.MIL> Date: 18 Apr 90 14:55:15 GMT Sender: daemon@ucbvax.BERKELEY.EDU Lines: 132 Scott walks in again to Callahan's for the first time in a while. He sheds his overcoat to reveal a light blue shirt and gray slacks. The casual snap of the fingers leaves him in his typical MIT sweatshirt, jeans, and sneakers. He approaches the bar... "Mike, I need something stiff. Here's a dollar. Give me a Screwdriver, but go easy on the OJ. I want to feel the vodka." Mike hands him the already-prepared drink, and Scott sips from it. "Your usual excellence," he says and walks to the line. "Hey, everyone, I know it's been a while, but it's time for my quarterly problem with the fair sex. As you may remember, I posted back in January about my best friend, Sharon, who married another guy. Well, this time I believe I've managed to put myself in a more precarious situation (unwittingly), and I need some advice from the Bar. If you'll all just sit back and relax, I'll explain... OK, here's the situation: There are four people involved (their names, except for my own, are concealed to protect their respective identities): F1 -- a girl F2 -- one of F1's closest female friends M1 -- one of F1's closest male friends M2 -- me Background: F1 has a crush on M1. This has been going on for about a year and a half. Although F1 and M1 are very close, no romantic relationship has developed between the two of them. F2 has been going out with another guy for some time. M2 has known F1 for a little over a year. They met through e-mail, and they've talked together on the phone a lot, but never had the chance to be physically together in the same room for more than half an hour at one time. M2 is attracted to F1, but doesn't want to open his foolish mouth for fear of doing the wrong thing. The Situation: As of March 15, the above was the status quo. About 3 weeks ago or so, F2 dumped her current boyfriend. Soon after, F2 and M1 began going out together. F1 discovered this this past weekend (through observing the two of them at some physical contact involving the touching of the lips), and she was very shocked and hurt by the whole thing. F1 has talked to F2, and they seem to have patched things between the two of them. F1 hasn't talked to M1 since then. M2, knowing nothing of the previous paragraph, called F1 on Monday to see if they could get together and go do something, as this had been promised for some time. To his delight, she said yes. They went to out to a movie (there was the usual hand-holding and arm-around-the-shoulders) and went back afterwards to her house. We had a little to eat and set down to talking. This eventually led to some general touching, hand-holding, and backrubs. M2, knowing a situation is developing, yet not wanting to jeopardize the friendship he has with F1, still says nothing. Then the serious talking followed. The following conversation is paraphrased from the original: F1: "Scott, can I be blunt with you? Let's talk about romance. I'm not sure I want or am ready for another romance right now. You know about what's happened over the past couple of days. I'm very confused and don't know where I stand with M1." M2 (me): "OK, can I be blunt with you, F1?" (opening his foolish mouth and attempting to be wise at the same time -- she was the one who brought this up) "I'm extremely attracted to you. I do have romantic feelings for you, but have been unwilling to say anything for fear of ruining a good friendship with you. If you need some time to think things over, I understand. This is probably a very confusing time for you. All your emotions are jumbled, and your confusion shows. I'm unwilling to pressure you into making a decision that you're not prepared to make. Take all the time you need. I'll be there for support and assistance if you need it. Please tell me if I can help." F1: "Scott, I'm attracted to you, too. I think a romance between us could work, but I need to talk to M1 to clarify my feelings for him and just, in general, think." M2 (me): "It's OK. I understand. Take all the time you need." Afterward, our patented "15-minute goodbye" turned into a 30- or 45-minute goodbye. There was a lot of emotion in that time frame, usually expressed in the form of bearhugs, some silence, comforting words from me, and words like "special" from her in reference to me. Since then, I've returned to my home, she's been at hers, and F2 and M1 are at the same college together. The Problems: Have I done the right thing by distancing myself from F1 (1.5 hour physical distance and no current contact over the phone) to give her the necessary time to think? Is it wise for F1 to go back to talk to M1, given the fact that he hasn't pursued any sort of romantic relationship with her, despite their being close? Is there anything I can do to enhance my position in F1's mind? _Should_ I do anything to enhance my position, knowing my unwillingness to want to influence her decision and my statements to her about the same? Suppose M1 and F1 get together: how am I going to react, and what will I be left with? I want very much for a relationship between F1 and myself to work, and I find myself torn between wanting to do the right thing as a friend by keeping my silence and wanting to do something as a possible romantic partner by nudging her toward me. I think my sister put it best when I talked to her last night: "The maximum good will be done if she chooses you. That way everyone's happy. F2 and M1 have their relationship, and you and F1 have yours. The maximum amount of harm will be done if F1 chooses M1. That way F2 loses her relationship; you, despite having been out of a relationship for over 2 years and despite your being used to be being alone and despite still probably having F1 has a friend if she chooses M1, will be miserable; F1, despite having you as a friend afterward, may feel guilty about the whole thing and be miserable herself, despite being in a relationship she very much wanted to be in." I need some help here, and I was hoping you could shed some light for me. If you'd like to keep this inside the Bar on the net, I have no problem with that, but I'd prefer e-mail responses. Sage words have come from Callahan's before, and I need some of them now." He finishes the remainder of the Screwdriver, raises his glass, and toasts, "To Decisions: may we make the right ones." The glass flies through the air to join the countless shards that already lie in the fireplace. His eyes search for an empty table. Finding one, he goes to it, lies his briefcase on the table, sits in one of the chairs, and places his right arm over the back of the chair to his right. An indistinct form appears there, but takes on no definite appearance... ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Scott Kitchen Send mail to: skitchen@cc1.pica.army.mil Mechanical Engineer ICBM: 40.88 N 74.56 W ----------------------------------------------------------------------- It is a good day to die, Duras, but the day is not yet over. -- Worf Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!usc!jarthur!uunet!sco!caroline From: caroline@sco.COM (Caprice) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: more details in an unfolding reality... Message-ID: <4597@scorn.sco.COM> Date: 18 Apr 90 16:22:55 GMT Sender: news@sco.COM Reply-To: caroline@sco.COM (Caprice) Distribution: alt Organization: The Santa Cruz Operation, Inc. Lines: 21 Caprice's eyes widen at the sight of the stag antlers on Sunspark's head, and she is one of those who takes a cautious interest in the dagger at Zippo's side. There are few other outward signs, but if you were to look very closely, you'd notice that one of her earrings bears a stag's head with a pentagram caught between the two branching antlers, a small blue sapphire set in the center of the star. Is this a Sign? Perhaps such outward signs don't matter. Perhaps it is, after all, nothing but a trinket she took a fancy to. It's a very small and inconspicuous thing, especially here in Callahan's where the strange is almost commonplace. Still, it is there for those who care to see.... -- I'll wrap four strands of hair 'round a notch of the nearest pine. A spider's web, come spring. -- Roberta Hill Whiteman Path: mit-eddie!mintaka!think!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!armadillo.cis.ohio-state.edu!kent-j From: kent-j@armadillo.cis.ohio-state.edu (Thenomain) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: reflections/reply/ah well Summary: Sound Effects Keywords: letter, Callahan's, reality Message-ID: <79465@tut.cis.ohio-state.edu> Date: 18 Apr 90 17:26:15 GMT References: <8914@pogo.WV.TEK.COM> Sender: news@tut.cis.ohio-state.edu Reply-To: Thenomain Organization: Ohio State University Computer and Information Science Lines: 93 In article <8914@pogo.WV.TEK.COM> andyd@pogo.WV.TEK.COM (Laura Davidson) writes: [poetic explination of a insignificant-feeling, angry person deleted] > "Pardon me, folks, if I seem a little upset. You have all been very >supportive and helpful, but recent events have conspired against your >efforts, one in particular. So now I think I am back where I started." Thenomain turns around with a sort of "Uh oh" look on his face, and he begins to rifle through his backpack, pulling all sorts of things. Pens, pencils, dice, an inhalant ("I hate asthma," he mutters), and so on. > I am replying in a post to e-mail sent to me by a lurker. Several things >I feel should be said. This isn't meant to flame a person, but I'm mad so it >may come off sounding that way. "Not to worry, Lyra. One of the worst things to do when you're angry is keep it in. Muddles da brain." He taps a finger against his forehead and then goes back to searching. [reasons] > So here's my reply, and a bit of other stuff. [hope you don't mind, but I'm going to comment to both the writer of the letter and yourself in this.] > "To the lurker who wrote me saying (s)he was ashamed of the lot of us, >because we knew no better than to believe in every fairy tale and fantasy >that came our way, like trusting children: did you miss Jilara's post? The >Place is real; we have RECREATED IT. I'd also like to add that this place is here, and I finally figured this out BECAUSE people NEED an escape! It took me a little while, but that's exactly WHY this place is, and there's not thing one wrong with that. > I -and no doubt others are as well- am >*sick* of being told it isn't real, that nothing like this exists or can >exist. We are all well aware that the Place exists only in virtual space, >but within that frame of reference, it *is* real. And obviously something >like it can exist, because it does. And I resent, though resentment has >little place in CAllahans, I resent your comment that Callahans is just a >`useless waste of money which should be removed from the net'." Ooooh, ouch. Virtualism, here. I have a good frame of mind for that. Ah, here we are. [Thenomain pulls out what appears to be a slice of silver movie screen on a stand with two trodes leading out of it.] Mike, a potatoe. [He recieves an odd look from the bartender, who tosses him one.] Thanks. Now, Lyra, this little bit of oddity is not just for your sake, but for the sake of the... person who is condemning my favorite form of recreation. [Thenomain plugs the two trodes into the potatoe and the screen comes to life with an almost hypnotizing array of colors.] Imaginaiton! I pity... no, I only feel sorry for anyone who condemns a group of people relaxing, trying to rid the stupidity of stress, though imagination. It makes you think that this person, him or herself, wants to hide from his or her own imagination. This is worse than overdoing the imagination. Don't believe him/her, Lyra. This person definately has a screw loose of his or her own. [Thenomain throws a thumb at the device.] This, by the way, is very doable with the technology we have today. [He lets it continue, the patern on the screen constantly changing in an array of colors.] But I like it. > Lyra looks >highly annoyed. "It's a wonderful Place, filled with wonderful people - who >were well on their way to helping me and each other!" Lyra looks angry. >"And I cannot believe you called the lot of us psychotics who belonged in >mental institutions! Though yuo **ARE** driving me in that direction!!" > ^^^^^^^ Wow! Hey! I'm a psychotic! I'll remember that the next time I get anonymous e-mail, and react appropriately. >Lyra looks furious, and glares about. > Her glance lands on an empty chair nearby. She picks it up and throws >it, HARD, into a corner. You hear splintering wood. Then she starts to cry >(cry, not CRY) uncontrollably. Ohh... umm... [Thenomain looks into his backpack and pulls out something that fits in the palm of his hand, stands up, and hands a simple peice of quartz to Lyra.] Hold onto this and look into the fire, even if the fire is only inside your mind. Look into the fire. >A voice said, Look me in the stars |~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~| >And tell me truly, men of earth, | Shannalyralythia | >If all the soul-and-body scars |________________________________| >Were not too much to pay for birth. -Robert Frost, A Question -=- -- Thenomain -- Kent Jenkins -- "I'm a figment of my own -- -- jenkins@osu-20.ircc.ohio-state.edu -- imagination, thank you." -Kaj -- -- kent-j@cis.ohio-state.edu -- Brainwave Turbulance, Inc. -- -- It's our lives, the U.S. Constitution! (Void where prohibited by Law) -- Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!usc!cs.utexas.edu!rice!uw-beaver!sumax!amc-gw!erica From: erica@amc-gw.amc.com (Eric Arendts) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: love Message-ID: <1274@amc-gw.amc.com> Date: 18 Apr 90 16:53:49 GMT References: <8913@pogo.WV.TEK.COM> Distribution: na Organization: Applied Microsystems Corp.; Redmond, WA Lines: 53 > She walks up to the bar and puts a single on the bar and asks for > another Jameson's Whiskey. "A welcome to the newcomers, Chris and E.J., > I too was bowled over by the caring of the people found here. And E.J., > all the warmest wishes for your married life-to-be. "Hi Hildy, it's a pleasure to meet you," E.J. smiles, "Thanks too for the warm wishes for my upcoming wedding. There's still so much to do; lots of errands to run, relatives and friends coming into town... I think I'll really need a vacation after all the festivities are over!" "Mike, when Hildy's done with her drink make sure she has another of her choice." E.J. floats a single down on the bar. In article <8913@pogo.WV.TEK.COM>, andyd@pogo.WV.TEK.COM (Laura Davidson) writes: > > Kady gets up from her table, ... > > > "But there is something demeaning about being in love. Suddenly > one is at the mercy of another. When you lose your independence, > what do you have left? "Kady, I'm sorry you feel that independence must be lost in a loving relationship. While I've seen this to be the case with some friends and acquaintances, I don't believe it's a fair generalization." "Speaking from experience, my fiancee and I were both very much individuals when we met and over the past two and a half years, we have grown together spiritually and emotionally, but we still retain our 'independent identities'. I think this is important to make ANY kind of relationship work." "I feel certain that you will find that special, compatible somebody Kady. There are many wonderful people in the world, and I believe that there are a great number of caring and kind souls right in this room." "Mike, another refreshment for Kady", E.J. floats another frail, faded dollar bill onto the bar. "Well, not to go on blowing my horn any longer, as I've got lots to do to get ready for the 'Big Day' on Saturday." With that, E.J. strides to the door, pauses with a slight wave, and quietly slips out. E.J. "When opportunity knocks, some people are in the backyard looking for four leaf clovers." Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!sdd.hp.com!elroy.jpl.nasa.gov!jarthur!bweed From: bweed@jarthur.Claremont.EDU (Feast of the Spooky Fungus) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: reflections/reply/ah well Message-ID: <6403@jarthur.Claremont.EDU> Date: 18 Apr 90 18:25:07 GMT References: <8914@pogo.WV.TEK.COM> Distribution: na Organization: Hotel Pandemonium (Harvey Mudd College, Claremont, CA) Lines: 29 In article <8914@pogo.WV.TEK.COM> andyd@pogo.WV.TEK.COM (Laura Davidson) writes: . "To the lurker who wrote me saying (s)he was ashamed of the lot of us, .because we knew no better than to believe in every fairy tale and fantasy .that came our way, like trusting children: did you miss Jilara's post? The .Place is real; we have RECREATED IT. I -and no doubt others are as well- am .*sick* of being told it isn't real, that nothing like this exists or can .exist. We are all well aware that the Place exists only in virtual space, .but within that frame of reference, it *is* real. And obviously something .like it can exist, because it does. And I resent, though resentment has .little place in CAllahans, I resent your comment that Callahans is just a .`useless waste of money which should be removed from the net'." The fuzzyelf reappears, still a bit flickery, with an aggrieved look on her face. "Always gotta be one of them, hasn't there? Why can't the scheisskopf hit 'u' if it disapproves of our fun? Braddbury described it nicely in his story `Usher II': And then, with everything well on its way to Safety, the Spoil-Funs, the people with mercurochrome for blood and iodine-colored eyes, came now to set up their Moral Climates and dole out goodness to everyone." "He also suggested a horrorshow way to get rid of them..." she grins. She fades again, leaving the grin last of all. -- | Brandi Weed bweed@jarthur.claremont.edu !uunet!jarthur!bweed | Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!pacific.mps.ohio-state.edu!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!sunybcs!cri From: cri@acsu.Buffalo.EDU (christopher r invidiata) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: more details in an unfolding reality... Summary: hmmm... (he thinks to himself) Keywords: antlers pentagrams etc. Message-ID: <22191@eerie.acsu.Buffalo.EDU> Date: 18 Apr 90 18:50:45 GMT References: <4597@scorn.sco.COM> Sender: nobody@acsu.Buffalo.EDU Distribution: alt Organization: SUNY Buffalo Lines: 16 Upon noticing the earing (ZTC has this tendency to look at things alot closer then he seems to be), Zippo bows deeply to the lovely lady, saying "Greetings, sister! and blessed be!". when he is once again wholly vertical (he does seem to spend alot of time bowing, for a punk, doesn't he...) he pulls his hair back behind his right ear, revealing an earing with a pentagram also haveing a saphire at the center, and with a small crystal hanging from the lower edge. He chuckles quietly to himself, but says no more. Z.T.C. =cri@lictor.acsu.buffalo.edu = "An Eagle may soar, = = aka = but a weasel will = = V118PV6E@UBVMSB.BITnet = never get sucked = = aka Criss Invidiata = into a jet engine." =