Path: mit-eddie!mintaka!think!sdd.hp.com!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!samsung!uunet!shelby!csli!cphoenix From: cphoenix@csli.Stanford.EDU (Chris Phoenix) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: quickies Message-ID: <13199@csli.Stanford.EDU> Date: 19 Apr 90 19:54:52 GMT References: <9064@lindy.Stanford.EDU> Sender: cphoenix@csli.Stanford.EDU (Chris Phoenix) Reply-To: cphoenix@csli.stanford.edu (Chris Phoenix) Organization: Center for the Study of Language and Information, Stanford U. Lines: 27 In article <9064@lindy.Stanford.EDU> GE.LJB@forsythe.stanford.edu (Louis J Bookbinder) writes: >"Chris! You changed! You are no longer just Chris Phoenix, you are now >Chris THE PHOENIX! I have always loved the image of the self-renewing >bird! I always think of Stravinsky's Firebird, one of my favorites. If >you supply the heat, I'll supply the wood and we will keep the place >warm and well lit! Actually, I think the Phoenix is a mask, though I share some attributes with it, notably the propensity to flare up once in a while. My flare-ups aren't nearly as creative as its, though. I've always been pretty short on description. I find it harder to talk through masks, even good ones, so when I post I generally write person-to- person, rather than Phoenix-to-. I just figured the situation called for a little symbolic magic... So, I don't know if the Phoenix will visibly manifest itself very often. You all can view me either way, or any other way you want (I have a lot of cat- like attributes too.) For now, I'll just stay as Chris the Person. If I had to chose a form that best fit the way I think about myself in here, it would probably be an amorphous fuzzy cloud, that rarely shows features, and has the ability to *be* wherever it wants and to spread its conscousness. It also has limited ability to get inside people's heads, but only if they invite it. -- Chris Phoenix | "I've spent the last nine years structuring my cphoenix@csli.Stanford.EDU | life so that this couldn't happen." ...And I only kiss your shadow, I cannot see your hand, you're a stranger now unto me, lost in the dangling conversation, and the superficial sighs... Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!usc!samsung!uunet!mcsun!unido!fauern!tumuc!guug!ixos!news From: nap92@campus.swarthmore.edu Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Nao comes running back in Message-ID: <1124@ixos.UUCP> Date: 19 Apr 90 12:08:10 GMT Sender: news@ixos.UUCP 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!snorkelwacker!usc!samsung!uunet!mcsun!unido!fauern!tumuc!guug!ixos!news From: skitchen@PICA.ARMY.MIL Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Love Square Message-ID: <1125@ixos.UUCP> Date: 19 Apr 90 12:08:18 GMT Sender: news@ixos.UUCP 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!media-lab!snorkelwacker!apple!brutus.cs.uiuc.edu!samsung!uunet!mcsun!unido!fauern!tumuc!guug!ixos!news From: egly@hplred.HP.COM (Diana Egly) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Touch Message-ID: <1108@ixos.UUCP> Date: 19 Apr 90 12:06:16 GMT Sender: news@ixos.UUCP 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!snorkelwacker!think!sdd.hp.com!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!samsung!uunet!cbmvax!snark!eric From: eric@snark.uu.net (Eric S. Raymond) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Love Square Message-ID: <1W9Vzf#8QGG4h8MHct194ly1H3RlmFP=eric@snark.uu.net> Date: 19 Apr 90 17:51:05 GMT References: <9004181055.aa13443@CC1.PICA.ARMY.MIL> Lines: 20 In <9004181055.aa13443@CC1.PICA.ARMY.MIL> "D. Scott Kitchen", CCH-V wrote: > "Hey, everyone, I know it's been a while, but it's time for my > quarterly problem with the fair sex. The flute music from the corner stops. Eric leans forward into the light. "I think you're stepping on your own needs too hard, guy. You have as much right to your desires as anyone else in this situation. Now, if it were me, I'd try setting up a foursome..." He grins impishly and ghostly antlers flicker around his head. He plays the the first two bars from "The Stripper" in an insinuating timbre. "You know, it's a*maz*ing how often these head-game role-problems vanish away when everybody takes their clothes off together." He takes a pull from his ginger beer, leans back into the shadows and resumes the haunting blues he'd been noodling with. -- Eric S. Raymond = eric@snark.uu.net (mad mastermind of TMN-Netnews) Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!think!sdd.hp.com!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!samsung!uunet!cbmvax!snark!eric From: eric@snark.uu.net (Eric S. Raymond) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Introducing: the Floating Dance Floor! Message-ID: <1W9XDT#6WvnPt9kd7yL1J5tg216MSlr=eric@snark.uu.net> Date: 19 Apr 90 18:49:16 GMT Lines: 59 Eric slips over to where Mike is tending bar and hands him the empty ginger-beer bottle. He glances toward the ceiling and seems struck by an amusing thought. He puts his head next to Mike's and they converse in low tones for a while. Eventually Mike nods and they grin at each other. Eric steps back from the bar and clears his throat theatrically. "Friends, once I was a regular at another virtual watering hole called the Moonlight Casino -- a small, comfortable place that ran on an RBBS system in Westchester PA." He smiles reminiscently. "I wish I knew where my friends from that place have all gone. It had one of the *solidest* virtual realities I've ever seen. It was a sad day when the Moonlight shut down." He smiles again and de-rezzes slightly. When he re-materializes he is in full Sunspark drag, solider than anyone's yet seen it. Now it's visible that he too wears a large ebony-handled dagger resembling Zippo's. He draws the athame with a flourish and strikes an invocatory pose. "However, the Moonlight's bar furniture is still hanging out there on the astral, and with Mike's kind permission I'm going to rescue an important piece of it for the patrons of Callahan's." "IO PAN!" he cries. There is a flash of silvery light and a sound that is something like rolling thunder and something like a wordless choir hitting a perfect chord. Nothing else seems to happen. "Love those special effects." Sunspark says half to himself. Every eye in the bar is riveted on him, but the collective expression is growing puzzled. "Is that it?" a lurker asks. Sunspark grins and points above his head. There is a collective gasp. The ceiling over the center of the Place is much higher now. Beneath it, suspended in midair, is a floating disc of wood perhaps 25 feet in diameter. The disc, which appears to be fashioned of the highest-quality gloss-finished teak, revolves majestically. "That," declaims Sunspark, "is the infamous Moonlight Casino Floating Dance Floor." He does a fast jig step and is instantly translated up to the surface of the disk. "To get there, just start dancing." He goes through about two bars each of the Rhumba, the Moonwalk, and the Funky Chicken, then stops. Abruptly, he re-materializes on the floor. "To get back down, just stop. You'll find you can't fall off." He bows. "Now anyone that likes can do a *real* cakewalk on air..." He dodges a shower of peanut hulls. He looks around. The flute has reappeared in his hand. "Hey! Where're that bassist and keyboard player that were lurking around earlier. Yeah...you, Midi. Let's show these people how it's *done*..." A knot of musicians gathers near Sunspark's corner. The shadowy forms of a drum set and a couple of amplifier stacks materialize around them, and within seconds they are swinging into a slightly ragged but spirited version of "Locomotive Breath"... -- Eric S. Raymond = eric@snark.uu.net (mad mastermind of TMN-Netnews) Path: mit-eddie!rutgers!apple!snorkelwacker!think!sdd.hp.com!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!samsung!uunet!mcsun!unido!fauern!tumuc!guug!ixos!news From: caroline@sco.COM (Caprice) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: more details in an unfolding reality... Message-ID: <1157@ixos.UUCP> Date: 19 Apr 90 12:12:03 GMT Sender: news@ixos.UUCP 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!snorkelwacker!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!dory.cis.ohio-state.edu!gaynor From: gaynor@dory.cis.ohio-state.edu (Jim Gaynor) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Why subjects? Why not prejects? Message-ID: <79528@tut.cis.ohio-state.edu> Date: 19 Apr 90 22:46:21 GMT Sender: news@tut.cis.ohio-state.edu Reply-To: Jim Gaynor Organization: Ohio State University Computer and Information Science Lines: 98 Diana Egly sez, >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? "'Bamf' isn't an acronym, Diana," Jim explains from his place at the bar. "It's a noun. Thalen, could you conjure me up a hole please?" Thalen looks over at Jim from the fenching strip where the mage was practicing some moves. "Sure thing Jim." He concentrates for a moment, gestures, and what looks like a black cloth circle appears on the bar. "There you go," Thalen says with a bow, and he returns to his shadow-fencing. "Thanks." Jim reaches into the hole and pulls out a few comic books packaged in plastic bags. "Y'see, Diana, there's this character called Nightcrawler in a comic named the X-Men. Brandi was wearing a female version of his form. Blue skin, fangs, pointy ears, prehensile tail, three fingered hands, and feet with toe long front toes and one reverse toe. Nightcrawler went on a cross-dimensional trip once, and ran into creatures called Bamfs. Basically, short cute little versions of him. Except they're all -very- girl crazy. " Jim puts the comics on the bar. "This is the limited seriers that it was in - there was another regular issue in X-Men, too. Care to read?" Then Terence Kelleher sez, >Terry's ears perk up. Imagine the idea. This place not real? "Of >course, this is real. Socrates himself said, "I post, therefore I >am."." "Watch out man," interrupts Jim with a grin, "I'm a philosopher. Actually, it was Renee Descarte who made the Cogito Ergo Sum argument. Too bad he could never convincingly get beyond that." Jim continues, "Socrates was much better known for another quote: "I drank -what-?"." And Liralen Li sez, >As Jim stands, waiting for the acceptance or denial of his hug, the >door to the bar BANG!!s open and a HUGE black teddy bear of a dog >bounces into the bar, his tail a high, waving banner of happiness, >and his bright eyes take in everything. Eventhough he's so big, he >flows into the room, quickly dodging through the dancers who, being >the standing beings in the room, become the chasers of the beastie. >He is delighted that so many want to play with him, and starts >playing dodg'em. Of course, in playing, he has to watch his fellow >playmates, and doesn't look where he's going, and manages to slam >into Jim's legs. Being about 135 pounds and having a significantly >lower center of gravity, the dog isn't the one that loses his balance. "Hey! Watch where you're goi* WHOMPH!" Jim sprawls across the floor as the dog slams into his legs. No longer next to Lyra, he's now about 10 feet away. A quick VSE (Visual Surveillence of Extremities) reassures him that everything is still attached and functional. With a rueful shake of his head, he dusts himself off and clambers to his feet. Looking over at Lyra, he finds her looking at him, both arms extended in proper AOH protocol. A manic grin appears on Jim's face, and he lets out a shout as he runs directly at Lyra. "Attack Hug!!!!" A warm embrace and a few spins later, Jim deposits Lyra back on the floor, he's still grinning madly. "I love those!" And finally, Sir Papillon sez, > "Nevertheless, while tilting at windmills is ultimately futile, is is very >important that somebody tilt at them. Chivalry, the chivalry that was nine- >tenths braggadacio, may be dead; and just as well, for it's time has been and >gone. But there was a truth at the core of the code of chivalry; a truth >about honor and gentleness, a truth that had nothing to do with slaying >dragons." Jim nods as Sir Papillon's words. "Honor and gentleness. I like that. Too often people think honor means being stuffy and taking offense at everything, and mostly - duels. I was playing Bushido (A RPG based loosely on "Fuedal Japan" where "honor" is the most important thing) and everyone was killing each other over this or that slight to their honor. Fagh! Honor is something from inside, not from how others treat you. Granted, an honorable being often gets honorable treatment, but it starts with being an honorable being, not getting honorable treatment. It has to come from inside." Adressing the Place in general, Jim says, "Has anyone noticed that some old postings are re-appearing? Curious... But then again, I'd prefer Callahan's reruns to TV reruns." -=- +-----------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | 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!sdd.hp.com!ucsd!swrinde!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!rpi!brutus.cs.uiuc.edu!jarthur!bweed From: bweed@jarthur.Claremont.EDU (Rapture of the Rodent Druids) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Why subjects? Why not prejects? Message-ID: <6449@jarthur.Claremont.EDU> Date: 19 Apr 90 23:14:12 GMT References: <79528@tut.cis.ohio-state.edu> Organization: Hotel Pandemonium (Harvey Mudd College, Claremont, CA) Lines: 43 In article <79528@tut.cis.ohio-state.edu> Jim Gaynor writes: . "Thanks." Jim reaches into the hole and pulls out a few comic .books packaged in plastic bags. "Y'see, Diana, there's this character .called Nightcrawler in a comic named the X-Men. Brandi was wearing a .female version of his form. Blue skin, fangs, pointy ears, prehensile .tail, three fingered hands, and feet with toe long front toes and one .reverse toe. Nightcrawler went on a cross-dimensional trip once, and .ran into creatures called Bamfs. Basically, short cute little .versions of him. Except they're all -very- girl crazy. Date: 20 Apr 90 00:06:12 GMT Sender: daemon@ucbvax.BERKELEY.EDU Lines: 27 Jilara is listening intently to the green tiger's words, particularly: "why pick on Lyra in particular instead of one of the old hands? If it really believed what it said, why didn't it go after somebody like Jilara, who has been vociferous in our defense?} "Quite frankly, I'd wondered that, myself. I also tend to be very misgiving of anonnymous notes. If someone is going to attack the group, why not attack all of us? Or are we playing "Ten Little Indians" here? (A murder mystery where people get picked off, one by one.) {Lyra, I hope I'm just being paranoid. But remember, we are here. We are at least as real as it is. And contrary to anything it might have you believe, we do care.} Things are only real if you believe in them, at least on the net. And there are also more of us. I, also, had those same paranoid feelings. Why Lyra? I add my vote to Callahans solidarity! {Incidentally, if it is so ashamed of our place here, then why has it been reading enough to know the address of one of our regulars?} Frankly, I'd be interested in It's address, myself. ---Jilara the Exile (I hope.) "If I'm not home accepting what I cannot change, I'm out changing what I can't accept." ---Ashleigh Brilliant alternate mail path: jane%fsdcupt.csd@urbana.mcd.mot.com My email went to Urbana, but all I got was this stupid router!