Path: mit-eddie!bloom-beacon!shelby!lindy!news From: HF.ZMF@forsythe.stanford.edu (Miriam Ferziger) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Story poker from the dance floor Message-ID: <9030@lindy.Stanford.EDU> Date: 18 Apr 90 18:39:36 GMT Sender: news@lindy.Stanford.EDU (News Service) Lines: 29 "May I join the story poker?" Viola asked from the middle of the dance. "And may I do it from here?" Cards wafted from table 15B over to the group of dancers, and patiently waited for Viola to pick them out of the air. She smiled slightly, put her cards in a pocket, threw some coins toward table 15B (they missed and landed in someone's drink, and started dancing again. "This moring's earthquakes in the San Francisco Bay Area (so far a series of at least 4 in the space of two hours) reminded me of something that happened to me a few months back." She tripped over her own foot, and probably deserved it for trying to dance and think at the same time. "October 21, to be precise. I was dozing on the bed. My father had turned on the Stanford football game, but I wasn't really listening to it. All I heard was 'mumble, mumble, mumble. . .Earthquake' I came out of the half sleep instantly, but did not feel any shaking. About a second later, it started. It wasn't a particularly strong or long quake (probably 5 seconds) but it is the first (and only) time I have had advance warning about a quake. In fact, I think that that quake was the last one I felt before today!" Viola finished her story and started dancing in earnest. --------------------- Viola hf.zmf@forsythe.stanford.edu O Time! Thou must untangle this knot, not I; It is too hard a knot for me t'untie Wm. Shakespeare (_12th Night_) --------------------- Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!bat.cis.ohio-state.edu!gaynor From: gaynor@bat.cis.ohio-state.edu (Vampire) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Taoist, Vampire, and Me. Keywords: re Callahans Message-ID: <79483@tut.cis.ohio-state.edu> Date: 18 Apr 90 19:53:39 GMT Sender: news@tut.cis.ohio-state.edu Reply-To: Jim Gaynor Distribution: alt Organization: Ohio State University Computer and Information Science Lines: 99 Taoist. Imposed Calm. False Happiness. Hope. Prideless Ego. Failure/Frustration. Vampire. External. Everywhere. Everyone. Selfsure. Ending. Final Pain. Me. --- Vampire sits at a table, talking animatedly with one of the lurkers about some topic or another. He's been pretty much a lurker himself lately, Saying nothing in public, although following along with things more or less. He seems to have been more concerned with enjoying himself. And he has. The door to Callahan's opens, and Taoist stands in the doorway. His face is neutral, almost resigned. The Taoist's eyes flick lazily across Callahan's, and come to rest on Vampire, who in turn stares back at Taoist with a feral grin. "Welcome back," Vampire drawls, "come back for another round, have you? Sorry, chum, but I'm enjoying myself." "It doesn't matter," Taoist replys as he walks to the table, "it's neither of us this time. He's going to be. He's going to hurt. You can't laugh it off, or revel it away. I can't solace it. He's going to be. It'll run it's course, but maybe he'll get rid of it finally. But it's him. Not us." Taoist reaches forward and grasps Vampire's hand with deceptive speed. Where they touch, the familiar effect occurs. As water were poured over a window, your vision of the two blurs and waves. The lurker that was speaking to Vampire takes one look and quickly moves to another table far in a fractal corner. The blur engulfs Vampire and Taoist, as a third form begins to appear between them. As the center figure grows, the outer two diminish, until only one shape is standing in the blur. The blur fades, and it's me. Jim. --- "Yesterday was April 17th. 30 months ago to that date, I started seeing a girl. A wonderful relationship. I was the first guy she ever dated. She had an emotional shell, that I had coaxed her out of with anonymous notes, signs, gifts, and other bits of fun and silliness. When we actually -met-, on October 17th, everything clicked. And locked. For almost two years." "In early October of 1989, I broke up with her. Something was happening, inside me, I didn't know what. All I knew is that things were leading inexorably to a point were I would be unfaithful to Marlys. But I still loved her. And I think I may have known, even then, that this thing would pass. I was scared. So I broke up with her - because I didn't want to hurt her in the other way. I had forgotten what she had told me before - that no matter what happened, she would love me, as long as I didn't leave her. I forgot, and to keep from causing her what I though would bring her pain - I ended up causing her more pain than I could have." "Slowly, I realized this. By January, I was ready to swallow all of my considerable pride - my very large ego - and get on my knees. Apologize, repent. As I prepared to do so, she met someone. And with rapidity that surprised her, and me, they became intimate. My hopes were shattered. But I was still willing to try, and try I did." "Things have gone back and forth since then. But in that last month, she became adamant. I had hurt her once, she said, and she could never trust me again. The part of her that loved me, she had sent away, she said. It would never happen. I accepted defeat. Last Monday night, I went to her place, to give her the few things of hers I still had, and to get those of my own. We were quiet - little was said. I wanted to hold her, to beg, to get on my knees. But her eyes told me that was useless. As I left, I asked her for a last hug, and moved to her. With her arms, she pushed me away." ""I've always had problems hugging people," she said, "but I guess you didn't notice before... Sorry." I managed to to mumble something and stumble out of the apartment before I broke down." "She'd closed herself off to me completely. It hurt. Now I'm going to deal with it. The hurt I made for myself in this keeps going around and around inside me. I've tried with Taoist and Vampire to purge it, but that was wrong - it didn't work. I've just got to accept it, and deal with it, and let it run it's course with me." Jim bows his head. "So Taoist and Vampire are in me - but it's me that's here. Jim." The thread of hugging brought a good bit of this up. Brought it into my head. I need to touch. To hug, to lean on people, a quick grasp of hand or shoulder. Contact. "I needed to put that out in the open," Jim says. "Now I'm here. Mike, a glass of white zinfandel, please." Jim goes to the bar, and trades a sawbuck for the glass. He sips at it and leans against the bar. "Now to reply to some things. Next post..." -=- +-----------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | Jim Gaynor - Graduating Macintosh Consultant - The Ohio State Univ. IRCC | | Email at [gaynor@cis.ohio.state.edu] or [gaynor@osu-20.ircc.ohio-state.edu] | |_ "You, yes YOU, want to hire me! Send away for my amazing resume TODAY!" _| Path: mit-eddie!mintaka!think!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!bat.cis.ohio-state.edu!gaynor From: gaynor@bat.cis.ohio-state.edu (Vampire) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Replies to Stuff... Message-ID: <79484@tut.cis.ohio-state.edu> Date: 18 Apr 90 20:11:45 GMT Sender: news@tut.cis.ohio-state.edu Reply-To: Jim Gaynor Distribution: alt Organization: Ohio State University Computer and Information Science Lines: 54 Abaddon sez, > Abaddon walks over and lays his hand on Wildcard's shoulder in gesture >of comfort. "Yes, why must the good die young? Jenny was lost 13 years ago >in a car accident. Sixteen is too young to die." "The good and the bad die young, Abaddon," Jim says from the bar. "It's just that we don't seem to mind so much when it's the bad. Or it's just not as noticed. Ryan White is dead, and he was quite good. And very noticed. But how many young theives and drug dealers have died that we haven't heard of?" And Mark Gellis sez, >Ah, another Jim Croce fan. Actually, I'm surprised I haven't heard >more of his stuff here, remarks The Man Who Talked with Books. Anyone >here a Tom Waits fan, by any chance? Tom Waits? "All my friends are married, Every Tom and Dick and Harry, It's awful hard to go it alone..." The lyrics aren't intended to be "meaningful", they're just all I can remember with the guy next cubicle over playing his music. But I think I'll play Nighthawks at the Diner when I go home... And now Lyra, in response to a lurker... >`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. Jim grins wryly to himself. "A bunch of psychotics, we are? Well, with all the metamorphoses of mine lately..." But he moves from his place at the bar and walks over to Lyra. He taps her lightly on the shoulder until she turns to look at him. Jim holds out both hands at slightly higher than waist level [as per Hug Protocol v .01] and waits for an AOH (acceptance of hug) or DOH (denial of hug), though he has a feeling it's an AOH forthcoming... -=- +-----------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | Jim Gaynor - Graduating Macintosh Consultant - The Ohio State Univ. IRCC | | Email at [gaynor@cis.ohio.state.edu] or [gaynor@osu-20.ircc.ohio-state.edu] | |_ "You, yes YOU, want to hire me! Send away for my amazing resume TODAY!" _| Path: mit-eddie!mintaka!think!bbn!granite!mwolf From: mwolf@granite.cr.bull.com (Mary-Anne Wolf) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: more details in an unfolding reality... Summary: me too Keywords: antlers pentagrams mailing-lists Silverblack Message-ID: <1990Apr18.205737.29617@granite.cr.bull.com> Date: 18 Apr 90 20:57:37 GMT References: <4597@scorn.sco.COM> <22191@eerie.acsu.Buffalo.EDU> Reply-To: mwolf@granite.cr.bull.com (Mary-Anne Wolf) Distribution: alt Organization: Bull HN Information Systems Inc. Lines: 36 ------------------------ A female voice comes from the vicinity of the ceiling. "Blessed be! Seems there's quite a number Goddess-worshippers here. Good thing too! Greetings all. Me too. I recall trying to correspond (over flakey email, I gave up) with someone after some postings in alt.pagan, someone whom I recognized from here. Thought we were the only two. Does this group also have overlap with the DRYCAS mailing-list or with PSI-L (which I don't have time to read anymore)? (Uther has digestified the DRYCAS list to get rid of the mail-bounce duplicates. I think I have the DRYCAS address if anyone wants it.) On a related topic, Silverblack (who is Jewish but owns a copy of The White Goddess and is very tolerant of Paganism) has found himself a job. He's going to be working at a place I think is called Dragon Systems, in Newton Mass, a place which does multilingual speech recognition software, so he gets to use computers and linguistics at the same time. Very good match for him, but I don't know whether it gives him netnews access. (Recent arrivals who are confused need only know that Silverblack (Mark Mandel) used to be a regular here, and recently engaged in an involuntary career change which deprived him of net access among other things. No reflection on him. Been lots of that in this company.) Enough reality. And now, back to our collective fantasy." Mary-Anne Wolf mwolf@granite.cr.bull.com or mwolf@pws.bull.com #include "Merry meet. Merry part. Merry meet again." -- Path: mit-eddie!media-lab!snorkelwacker!usc!venera.isi.edu!shelby!lindy!news From: GE.LJB@forsythe.stanford.edu (Louis J Bookbinder) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: faster than a Message-ID: <9047@lindy.Stanford.EDU> Date: 18 Apr 90 23:16:02 GMT Sender: news@lindy.Stanford.EDU (News Service) Lines: 65 Clankity, clankity, clank Pant, pant, "Hi, Im inna rush. Lotsa notes. "Welcome to Chris Torek, Eric, Zippo, Zap (faintly), Grey Pilgrim, and E.J. (CONGRATULATIONS - ALL THE BEST TO YOU BOTH!) "Lets see, now, Brandi, fuzzyelf, hang in there - we don't want you to fade completely! "Lyra - Thanks for the poem - it says about the dangers of love what another poem (long time, no memory) says with the image of a moth attracted to a flame. But for the moth, what a glorious way to go! (Hmmm, do I really mean that? have to find the poem). But most importantly, thank you for your rebuttal to the party-pooper. People like that can ruin your whole day. Please don't cry! I'd rather see you angry! Here.." Nick removes his funnel cap (the orange fuzzy sticks to his chrome dome) and starts passing it around. "Please, folks, breaking furniture in the place is not conducive to quiet discussions. Please put in a nickel or something as a collection to pay for broken furniture!" "Hey, Nick, not necessary!" growls Mike from the bar. "Oh, I insist! Hey gang? You think we shouldn't pay our way here? Mike works hard enough providing this place without we should tear it up! What do you say!" General, tho quiet, agreement. Coins clang in the funnel as it circulates. "OK. Lets see, Eustace - you left out at least 2 emotions not covered by your four - how about Lust? Embarrassment? Oh, and thanx for the drink! "Kahrynda - congrats on your new name. Special meaning? I'll second the toast to monogamy "Wildcard - thanx for the drink - cheers" Nick downs the glass of olive oil and tosses the glass in the fireplace without looking. "Caprice - you mentioned humor - it occurred to me that what every group needs is a court jester. Hmmm, who shall we elect?....." Nick scratches his head, startling the fuzzy which emits a brief but loud chitter, then shrugs (Nick, not the fuzzy, which has no shoulders) and continues. "Scott - You are doing the right thing. But send her a card. Send her a poem. Then wait. Only she can decide. "Jim - Don't completely forget the Taoist or the Vampire. I think you will have to accept that you goofed. Now you hurt. I am sorry this happened. May you do better next time. Here is a hug." Nick runs up to Jim, and even before the startled psychosynthesis can react, runs out the back door. Clankity, clankity, clank One of the windows suddenly flashes with the burst of a supernova, the scene outside - an airless planetary surface - is suddenly heated to a white hot incandescence matching the superstellar glare, and the window shuts down for a second. The scene that replaces it is a lake in a violet landscape. No trees. No waves. No motion at all. Nothing. Nick Chopper - my opinion? dont ax! LB>- GE.LJB@Forsythe.stanford.edu Path: mit-eddie!media-lab!snorkelwacker!apple!hercules!cisco.com!mlb From: mlb@cisco.com Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: love Message-ID: <17551@hercules.csl.sri.com> Date: 19 Apr 90 01:33:50 GMT References: <8913@pogo.WV.TEK.COM> Sender: usenet@csl.sri.com Reply-To: mlb@cisco.com Distribution: na Organization: The Dolphin Conspiracy, Phase II Lines: 19 Followup-To: Keywords: >"It seems to me that the Place gets more traffic from broken hearts >than any other single category. Now, I'm sure that this is an over- >simplified and drastic solution, but wouldn't life be easier without >love? A lurker around these parts turns slowly from her Canfield's Diet Chocolate Fudge Soda (the main reason she found this place - it's pretty hard to find anywhere else) and decides to comment. "Maybe easier, but I don't know if that would mean it would be any better." > "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? "Funny, what I've known as love is where you don't *lose* your independence - you know exactly where you've put it. You've shared part of it with another person, in return for part of theirs. You've still got the rest of it, to do with more or less as you please." Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!usc!jarthur!bweed From: bweed@jarthur.Claremont.EDU (Kiss of the Tibetan Hyenas) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: faster than a Message-ID: <6416@jarthur.Claremont.EDU> Date: 19 Apr 90 02:03:46 GMT References: <9047@lindy.Stanford.EDU> Organization: Hotel Pandemonium (Harvey Mudd College, Claremont, CA) Lines: 24 In article <9047@lindy.Stanford.EDU> GE.LJB@forsythe.stanford.edu (Louis J Bookbinder) writes: >"Lets see, now, Brandi, fuzzyelf, hang in there - we don't want you to >fade completely! The voice can be heard, but the image is like smoke in the breeze. "Well, there *is* a `dead week' before graduation, and I may go into a frenzy of posting then.'' >"Caprice - you mentioned humor - it occurred to me that what every group >needs is a court jester. Hmmm, who shall we elect?....." Nick scratches >his head, startling the fuzzy which emits a brief but loud chitter, then >shrugs (Nick, not the fuzzy, which has no shoulders) and continues. The head (and maybe a shoulder) manifests, wearing a scarlet motley cap with bells. "I played a jester once long ago-- I wouldn't mind doing it again". A tail appears long enough to wag and shake the scarlet ribbon of bells tied to it. She chuckles at how absurd just the head and tail looks before disappearing again... -- | Brandi Weed bweed@jarthur.claremont.edu !uunet!jarthur!bweed | Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!ucbvax!HPLRED.HPL.HP.COM!egly From: egly@HPLRED.HPL.HP.COM (Diana Egly) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: What is callahans? (humor) Message-ID: Date: 19 Apr 90 02:12:27 GMT Sender: daemon@ucbvax.BERKELEY.EDU Lines: 121 Nick, I am pleased to see your ruminations about what alt.callahans is and can be and, more importantly, what you want from it. Like you, I seek some kind of practice in empathy, gentleness of spirit, and of learning to understand others. Like you it is a matter of faith and hope. And such things are important elements in my ability to survive everything else that the world dishes out. I've given most thought to humor, how humor adds and detracts from the atmosphere. I probably focused on humor because it is where I experience the greatest pain at Callahans. As I've already said, much of the humor here tends to be painful to me. So it bears closer examination. And thus I've given some thought to this while I was gone. (With thanks to Chris Phoenix, Doug Quarnstrom, and Mark Shoulson who helped me clarify these thoughts.) You see, I don't so much see the surface level merriment as I feel the complex emotions lying just under the surface. And so I experience some of the frivolity as an expression of pain, and because it's not directly stated as such, it catches my attention in a different way. And I have to sort through my reaction to undestand what's going on. Maybe it would help if I discussed the kind of humor that tends to happen here. A lot of the humor at Callahans, maybe most of it, is to relieve tension. Humor is a very important coping strategy, particularly when there are lots of heavy feeling in the air. Sometimes the humor is cathartic, taking the pain and letting it flow out in a cleansing stream. And this is good. Very good. It makes everyone feel better. A prime example of this kind of humor is the pun at the end of Pyotr's Story in Callahan's Secret. It stays with the pain and twists it in just the right way so that humor and caring is expressed at the same time. And the laughter is healing. A letting go of pain. But sometimes, instead of cathartic, the humor at alt.callahans seems more like a desperate attempt to push away the feelings that have been raised. When the attempt at humor changes the subject or focus then it doesn't seem cathartic to me. This brand of let's-change-the-subject-so-the-feelings-don't-get-too-heavy kind of humor seems like forced gaiety and the laughter sounds hollow in my ears. It does not leave me amused or happy. Instead it leaves me sadder than before -- and wondering what I can say or do to get those involved to the place where they don't need to suppress those feelings -- to be able to share the pain for as long as it needs to be shared. I find that the ability to stay with someone else's pain and your own reaction to it can be healing. Or if not healing, at least enlightening. For both of you. And for me, while this kind of humor does let some people to push their feelings away, I still see them. Emotional ghosts haunting Callahans. Now I know that it is hard to stay with painful feelings. Especially to stay with them long enough to work through them. And I realize that maybe pushing feelings away with humor is what some people need to do in order to survive. But don't expect me to laugh when it happens. It's not funny, no matter how clever and witty it may be. Instead it feels to me as if the emotional burden has been loaded onto my shoulders and I have to carry it alone. As an aside, I worry that people who expessed whatever gave rise to this "need" for gaiety may feel as if their concerns and situation have been dismissed in a cavalier and uncaring fashion. I can't know if this worry is groundless because I'd expect that someone who felt that way would be unlikely to speak up again. (With Hildy as a possible counter-example.) Now there is a kind of humor, sometimes found here, often found in the stories by Spider Robinson, that is just good-hearted. It springs from the joy of being together (a simple joy, but it's in simple joys that we find the most comfort and connection) and it feels like comraderie and companionship. It draws people in and touches their basic humanity. It's terribly wholesome (and has the power of making whole. And may even be holy.) It's the kind of pleasure that we take in the antics of a kitten. Only deeper. It bubbles up from within and is as much an expression of the self as the sharing of pain is. It's like Gilly and the warm fuzzies, or Robin's expansion of those categorizations. It's like Thalen and Jilara fencing or like Oktave organizing an n-tet. It's the whole persona of Nick Chopper taking on a life of his own. Warm and homey and compassionate. It's like fresh, homemade bread, direct from the oven. Only it pleasures the brain rather than the belly. And when done just right, it brings forth in me a sense of the miraculous, as any work of art does. It's what I think of when I think of Callahan's being a merry place. At Callahan's (the stories) the puns and tall tales and riddle night are one form in which a lot of this sort of merriment takes place. It's a running theme that anyone can use to make connection and to bring back shared memories. Like waves crashing on a beach. Maybe it helps us to have such things as touchstones. Simple and basic forms that bring us back together (well, it is one of the tools of improvisional theater that works to keep things focused). Maybe we need them here as well. Maybe we can use puns and tall tales and even the riddles or maybe we'll create our own forms. I think already we have with personas. Comfortable and non-constricting ways to bring laughter and smiles and -- well -- a warm, merry, family feeling. I pause for a moment and think of Jake. How he found a sense of family at Callahan's and on the day that he meant to toast the loss of his family in an accident. And I think of another accident. And my own loss. But the moment passes, and I continue... Now some of the humor at Callahans has been thinly disguised violence. One of the problems with violence (and I mean violence as opposed to anger) -- and there are several problems with violence -- is that no matter how carefully you try to focus your violence it reverberates and hits someone that you did not intend to hurt. It's an unavoidable consequence of violence, no matter how it's expressed. WIth that she moves under where the green tiger's tail extends and gives it a gentle, attention-getting tug. She pulls out a rope ladder from her brief case, and asks the tiger "Could you help me get this up to the rafters?" I am merely human (sometimes being human is enough) and so I need a ladder. Someone (aside to the person who made this suggestion: forgive me for not including your name) suggested that there's lots of room up there for an incredible size-changing woman. And that rafters can make a nice little corner, should I seek it. You're up here and may, from time to time, welcome some companionship. And being up here moves me out of the line of fire of any projectiles be they grenades or snowballs or pies. Since I sometimes pick up on other people's feelings and violence is one that always hits me hard, I'll just hide up here so that I don't get hit by any unexpected violence-associated shock waves. Oh, yes, Since I've been away I missed the explaination of what a BAMF is? I can only wonder. A Bay Area Male-Female? The British-American Medical Foundation? Am I even close? Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!apple!hercules!cisco.com!mlb From: mlb@cisco.com Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Touch Message-ID: <17552@hercules.csl.sri.com> Date: 19 Apr 90 01:46:26 GMT References: <9004171550.AA12040@fsdcupt.csd.mot.COM> Sender: usenet@csl.sri.com Reply-To: mlb@cisco.com Organization: The Dolphin Conspiracy, Phase II Lines: 39 >I remain convinced that those who dislike touch dislike it because it is >somehow threatening, an invasion, interpreted as an impingement on >personal boundaries. It needn't be. But for those who think this way, >it must be actively UNLEARNED, and one must learn trust, and learn to >feel safe being touched. It should never come uninvited. But it befits >one little to play armored porkypine, either. Because, as humans, as >primates, part of our validation is in touch. It's programmed into the >cells of our being. "Yes, I think you have hit it - strangers touching me *is* an invasion of my personal space. I like - no, need - my privacy, and that includes bodily integrity. It's one of the main reasons I have such problems with crowds - there are always people bumping into me, and all that unauthorized touching just about drives me crazy." She finishes the chocolate soda, lays a dollar on the bar, and asks for a Truffles on the rocks. She privately admits that she's addicted to chocolate, but figures she could have a lot worse vices. "Sometimes playing porcupine is the only defense against the inconsiderate 'touchy-feelies', those who insist on hugging despite a person's personal preference. And then when you freeze up, they call you unsocial and claim that you hate to touch." "It's not that I hate to touch, it's that I like to be touched by people who know me and want to touch *me*, not just some warm body grabbing another." Finishing off the liquid chocolate, she adds a final comment. "To the patron who withdrew a warm fuzzy from underneath his hat (and I admit to being too lazy to go back and figure out just who you are - my apologies), it reminds me very much of my late guinea pigs. They are very content to snuggle up to you, making small comforting noises. And they are warm and fuzzy." She steps up to the chalk line and heaves the glass into the flames. "To Ginny and Melissa, two of the finest friends I ever had, even if they weren't human." Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!ucbvax!mtxinu!unisoft!greywolf From: greywolf@unisoft.UUCP (The Grey Wolf) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Hello, did any one hear me? Message-ID: <2926@unisoft.UUCP> Date: 18 Apr 90 20:14:52 GMT References: <11551@encore.Encore.COM> Reply-To: greywolf@unisoft.UUCP (The Grey Wolf) Lines: 78 In article <11551@encore.Encore.COM> terryk@pinocchio (Terence Kelleher) writes: >A voice picks up from the padded bar stool where the woman in the >muted paisley sweater is sitting. > >"Am I missing some inside jokes or something? Other than a couple >generic hellos, no one seems to want to answer me. Have I turned >invisible? Or is there some requisite pain that one has to share to >be included? Maybe since I am not a college student (nor ever was >one) or going through a painful break up, there is no place for me >here? I feel I should apologize for being happy or not knowing one of >you on the outside. Is this true? Deal me in for one hand at poker >and I'll tell a story." > A large grey wolf pads over and nuzzles your hand, licking it. { Um, generally, it does seem to help if you would post. This is the first message I have seen you post. Perhaps your broadcasts aren't. Broad- cast, that is... } >She takes her glass of whiskey and sits at the table, wedging herself >in the nearest opening in a table that seems too crowded to allow her >passage. She grips her whiskey in ever whitening knuckles. { For starters, this is Callahan's. You're in good company, you may relax... } [ she comes from a large family...lots of problems, including alchism, insanity, etc... but wound up fairly well adjusted... ] > Of >course you wouldn't know this but with all the others screaming their >problems (and creating new ones) at the top of their lungs, no one >paid much attention to the quiet little girl in the corner untill the >beserker rages hit. To this day I have a problem with being ignored, >mostly I *HATE* it. Once I stood in a store at a make up counter and >waited for a clerk to wait on me. It took her fifteen minutes to see >me. (sip) I've grown accustomed and even accepted the fact that if >I'm not loud I'm not noticeable. But here at Callahan's I thought it >would be different. Do you realize how closed you sound to outsiders >looking in? I watched for a while before I spoke up and even then it >wasted the breath I used. I'm not flashily dressed, nor do I use >magics to stand out. I'm comfortable the way I am and if being >regular in here is unacceptable...... . . { Unacceptable? The only thing I would see as unacceptable is an over- endowment of obnoscosity[*]...but even that is just me, and were nobody else to say anything, I'd keep my mouth shut, too. More unacceptable is the general social condition of this world. You have found something of a haven here, I hope you will enjoy it. } > >Sorry, Mike. I'll find another watering hole. > { don't run off too quick... } >This reminds me of the time a friend of mine told me of... >He was driving an ambulance from an accident scene with a patient in >the back trying to get to the hospital. He got there in good time >over the tracks and through the back streets. He pulled up to the big >double doors and ran to the back to get the victim in as quick as >possible. As he opened the doors to the ambulance, he was greeted >with the sight of the victim trying to climb back into the gurney to >be taken into the hospital. He KNEW he took those tracks too fast." > { "Wanna see something REALLY scary...?" -- The Twilight Zone } >Hildy >-- >Terence Kelleher >Encore Computer Corporation >terryk@encore.com [*] OBNOSCOSITY (ahb' nahs kos' a tee): adj. The degree to which something is obnoxious. -- Brain fried. (Explanation is in file "core".)