Path: mit-eddie!wuarchive!cs.utexas.edu!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!cheops.cis.ohio-state.edu!karl From: karl@cheops.cis.ohio-state.edu (Karl Kleinpaste) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: explanations (long!) and a toast. Message-ID: Date: 30 Nov 89 19:05:36 GMT References: <348@unicorn.WWU.EDU> Sender: news@tut.cis.ohio-state.edu Distribution: alt Organization: Ohio State Computer Science Lines: 61 In-reply-to: n8946177@unicorn.WWU.EDU's message of 29 Nov 89 20:29:21 GMT The tall gent with the longish brown hair steps over to the bar, fishes in his wallet for a single, parks it on the bar. "A very cold DrPepper, ifyadontmind." A buck is an obscene price for a mere soft drink, but he doesn't care much for any form of alcohol, and besides, one is purchasing considerably more than a mere liquid when in Mike's place. He takes the DrP, settles into an out-of-the-way chair by himself, and slouches over the table, staring at the fire. He doesn't drink the DrP yet - just fiddles with the glass while staring. He's been pondering the words he saw from the blue-winged kitten for most of a day, placing them in juxtaposition against his own thoughts and the experiences of the last year. Y'see, the gent is a foster parent. He's been doing this for a year, and has already had 5 kids go through his home. It's been feeling like there's a @#$% revolving door on the house. And seeing the kitten's words about home-as-hell rather hit home for himself, and he's found that it's very hard to read those sorts of things without taking some time out for himself in dark, quiet corners for a bit. He prays a little and remembers... ...the 3-yr-old girl so badly nourished that she was smaller than his own not-that-big 2-year-old, and whose front teeth had literally rotted to death in place...the 8-month-old boy whose babysitter called in a suspected abuse case due to the burns on his chest and arms...little Tommy, born with cocaine in his blood and marijuana in his urine, taken from his mother at birth, spent the first 4 months in a foster home that was not a whole lot better, that family losing its foster license with him in their "care"; at least he could be pleased with how well Tommy progressed while in his own home...the 4-year-old girl found wandering the streets late on a weekend night, who had to be comforted a long time while she cried herself to sleep for 2 nights before her parents were found...the 3-year-old girl placed in the foster system yet again, her 3rd time already... So many things. So many bad things. It seems that it even begins to get hard to remember which was which at times. It's so hard at times...so hard to look at them and see what has happened to them. So hard to watch them go, especially after they've been around a couple of months. At least he can still see Tommy when he wants; his adoptive mother is happy to have the gent's family come by from time to time... He hasn't had to deal with a sexual abuse case yet. Yet. He will - it's just a given - the only question is when it'll happen. He's not happy about the prospect. But he knows he'll get through it when it happens...somehow. He spends a lot of time in prayer over such things. Finally, he straightens, then stands up. "To children; may they all find mommies and daddies who really care; and may the Lord help me help those who haven't found 'em yet." Prayer comes in many forms. Never, ever underestimate the gent's ability to drain a DrP in a hurry. He sits back down...lays his head in his crossed arms on the table...falls asleep...gads, he's tired, so very tired... Path: mit-eddie!wuarchive!cs.utexas.edu!usc!ucsd!hub!fig!snoopy From: snoopy@fig.ucsb.edu (Smith, Jamie Lynn) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Poem Review, + Request for Personal Info About Posters Summary: Poem: Love and Spring. Keywords: Good Poetry. Message-ID: <3170@hub.UUCP> Date: 30 Nov 89 18:53:17 GMT References: Sender: news@hub.UUCP Reply-To: snoopy@fig.UUCP (Smith) Organization: U Can Study Buzzed, but I don't recommend it! Lines: 111 In article dc2o+@andrew.cmu.edu (David L. Chute) writes: (stuff respectfully deleted...) >I'll post one of her poems, and I'd like to hear comments. If you don't > >Love and Spring >(copyright 5/89) > >Love and Spring are the same budding flower >Who orients her face on the young sun. >But all these are confined by time, and hour- >They wither and die, as soon as they've begun. > If Spring were eternal, or buds didn't fade! > Perhaps love could yet last, in endless dawn. > But sunset comes; the earth is left in shade. > Love and light fade form sight, and then are gone. >The sun leaves the earth alone, cold, and dark. >If even eath chills, how shall I endure >When you, with sweet love, part from me? But hark! >Birds herald the dawn: light is here once more. > For you, I'll taste even darkness's debt, > Knowing a sunrise follows each sunset. Beautiful. It's very structured (for some reason, most professors of late don't like structure... but, hey! Song lyrics are very structured, and very poetic, and they do very well! (Depending on the song)), but I like structure! The only unstructured poetry I like comes from certain song lyrics from Genesis and Phil Collins records, and even they have a certain complex structuring. But, mainly, I love what the words say, and the phrasing of what they say. Tell your shy friend that she has future. She's like an artist friend of mine. My friend is incredible at real life paintings. One quarter, she got stuck with all modern art professors.... no-one liked her work! Just tell her that the people who teach her aren't necessarily the smartest people around. Their minds can't recognize things for beauty's sake.... they are stuck into some strange mode of teaching, where they think that things can only be done one way, whether or not another way might be more beautiful and more intelligent than theirs. The modern art professor's didn't like my friends work, but her work was more time consuming than the paintings some of the modern artists in her classes cranked out... and her work was also more of a pleasure to look at. For some reason, her poem reminds me of Beauty and the Beast. It reminds me of the sort of poetry that the character Vincent would read. I can hear him reading it. I can also hear the character Catherine reading it. I'm sorry if this is the Umpteenth article posted on this peom... I've fallen behind on reading this group, and I don't know what's been posted after the original posting of the poem... Well, enough from me. Beagles shouldn't talk so much... it ruins their howling voices. Mike! Another Root-Beer, Please! (slaps dollar down... where do Beagles get their money, anyway?) And get that Teddy Bear over their another milk! (slaps another dollar down, picks up the root-beer in thumbless paws, and downs it in one long swalow). To Good Poetry! To anything Beautiful, and to Recognizing that Beauty! (Crash!!!) P.S. Anyone around here a Beauty and the Beast fan? This probably belongs in Rec.arts.tv, but I'd rather talk about it among a "close-nit newsgroup" than something as big as RAT. Hey, here's and idea.... Let's all post a little bit about our true selves... interests, hobbies, jobs, age, sex, height, hair color, favorite food, favorite color, fav tv shows, etc, anything of interest. Oh, for College students (of which I am... Beagles are very smart ;-)), majors and Colleges, oh, and location within this country/world might be good, too. This way, those of us with common interests can get discussions going about those interests. I'm not trying to break this newsgroup up into teeny little parts, but it would be nice to talk with friends about some of my hobbies... I guess I'll start: Jamie Lynn Smith. Kayaking (lake, mainly), Camping, Cycling, Hiking, Watching too much tv, etc. None of the above hobbies are pursued professionally. No job at present. Age: 21. Sex: Female (ok, I know Snoopy is male, but I identify with him alot! :-)). Height: 5' Weight: 113 lbs (ok, physical descriptions should be optional... but this gives you a picture of me other than "funny looking dog wearing a flight helmet"). Hair: Brunett, shoulder length, perm growing out. Eyes: Hazel, and near- sighted!. Favorite food: Italian, and anything resembling Pizza. Favorite color: Red, or any strong hue in the rainbow. Fav..... tv shows: Star Trek the Next Generation. Beauty and the Beast. Cheers. Magnum P.I. """""""" Movies: Virtually anything done by Lucas or Spielberg. College: University of California, at Santa Barbara (U Can Study Buzzed) Major: Computer Science Location: Santa Barbara, California. ----Done (for now)---- :-) >+-------------------------------------------------------------+ >| David L. Chute >| >>dc2o+@andrew.cmu.edu >+-------------------------------------------------------------+ >| Gaerdil Menelmacar >| of the Barony-Marche of the Debatable Lands >+-------------------------------------------------------------+ >| "I am, in no particular order, a Midn 3/C, a CCon, an >| SCA fighter, a very nice guy, and in no particuar order >+-------------------------------------------------------------+ Snoopy (aka Jamie Lynn Smith) ----"WOOF"---- ****************** The World War One Flying Ace ************************* * "I'll get you some day, Red Baron!" --- Snoopy | Jamie Lynn Smith * * "|!| !!! |!||! |||!!||! ||!|!||!|" --- Woodstock | CS ugrad at UCSB * ********************************* mail to snoopy@cornu.ucsb.edu ********* Path: mit-eddie!wuarchive!cs.utexas.edu!uunet!image.soe.clarkson.edu!news From: stadnism@clutx.clarkson.edu (Steven Stadnicki,9B23 Woodstock,2680000,5186432664) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: A Toast Message-ID: <1989Nov30.191727.7183@sun.soe.clarkson.edu> Date: 30 Nov 89 19:17:27 GMT Sender: news@sun.soe.clarkson.edu Reply-To: stadnism@clutx.clarkson.edu Organization: Clarkson University, Potsdam, NY Lines: 21 Something of some (minor) importance to me, and a toast to it: For those who can hear me, and those who can't: "To visual news!" <*boink*> Specifically, to the news servers around here, which seem to get things to some places, but not others. I'm making a request now, one that's going to be a pain in the ass to some people (including me), but which is important to me: will everyone who sees this please try and send me e-mail? I'm asking because I'd like to know who can see me, and who can't. If not many people can, I may have to start posting through someone, in which case there may be another annoying request like this soon... Steven Stadnicki stadnism@clutx.clarkson.edu stadnism@clutx.bitnet To Jen, and Austin, and Gilly, and everyone else who knows what I mean: Home is where your friends are. Path: mit-eddie!mintaka!think!snorkelwacker!usc!cs.utexas.edu!uunet!cbmvax!vu-vlsi!nlp From: nlp@vu-vlsi.Villanova.EDU (Nick Pine) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: A Toast Message-ID: <2814@vu-vlsi.Villanova.EDU> Date: 30 Nov 89 13:44:51 GMT Reply-To: nlp@vu-vlsi.UUCP (Nick Pine) Distribution: alt Organization: Villanova Univ. EE Dept. Lines: 12 The troll bursts in and orders a pint of Old Peculier, which he slorches down. He spins on his heel and winds up and flings the flagon into the fireplace, where it explodes [slow motion] into a thousand streaks of light, which vanish, along with the troll, in rivulets of smoke, briefly forming these words in the air: * To Truth! May we fail to tell it more often! * Nick (rutgers!vu-vlsi!nlp? Nothing from you yet, Gilly...) (Who finds himself having spoken the truth lately, more often than he would really like to have done.) Path: mit-eddie!mintaka!think!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!gem.mps.ohio-state.edu!rpi!hammer From: hammer@pawl.rpi.edu (James A. Damour) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Request for Personal Info About Posters Summary: basic info on yours truely Keywords: age, hobbies, et al Message-ID: <25758F2F.1FA3@rpi.edu> Date: 30 Nov 89 20:35:58 GMT References: <3170@hub.UUCP> Followup-To: article 220 Organization: Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, Troy NY Lines: 26 Allright, I'm game to give personal stats, why not? name: James Alfred Damour hobbies: sf books, rp/board- games, SCA, discussing poly-dimensional geometries job: only during the summers (work at King's Dominion, and amusement park) age: 19 sex: mail height: 5'6"(I think) weight: 140-150 (not sure) hair: brown (and in desperate need of a trim :) eyes: ditto (and also nearsighted, use glasses (they keep hair out of eyes :)) favorite food: most anything in large quantities that don' come from cafeteria favorite music: later Floyd, Queen, Styx, CCR favorite movies: Ladyhawke, Princess Bride, Parenthood, Enemy Mine college: RPI (as above) major: math (applied, NOT pure... I want to do things that MEAN something) location: Troy, NY (near Albany) typical condition: generally clueless, but willing to help Is that what you wanted? BTW, would you prefer to be called Jamie, Snoopy, or something completely different? James Damour hammer@pawl.rpi.edu Path: mit-eddie!mintaka!think!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!gem.mps.ohio-state.edu!usc!ucsd!hub!erbo From: erbo@plum.ucsb.edu (Eric J. Bowersox) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Request for Personal Info About Posters Message-ID: <3176@hub.UUCP> Date: 30 Nov 89 21:49:01 GMT References: <3170@hub.UUCP> Sender: news@hub.UUCP Reply-To: erbo@cornu.ucsb.edu Organization: UC Santa Barbara Computer Science Lines: 59 In-reply-to: snoopy@fig.ucsb.edu's message of 30 Nov 89 18:53:17 GMT The young man stands up again, having been listening intently to the cute beagle by the bar telling everyone about her/himself. He's unbuttoned the faded copper buttons of his jacket, revealing a T-shirt emblazoned with the words, MY MOM AND DAD VISITED ENCHANTING VERNA AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS LOUSY T-SHIRT. From his neck hangs a gold chain bearing a strange golden symbol that doesn't look like a symbol of any known religion in the universe. It gleams in the firelight as he steps to the bar, places a scuffed Reebok on the brass rail, pulls another couple of singles out of his wallet, and says, "Mike, I'll have a Matilda Bay...and get another root beer for the beagle." Mike serves them up with his usual broad smile. Carrying his glassful of wine cooler, he walks over and pats the beagle on the head. "Well," he begins, "as you probably guessed from that," pointing up to the "Reply-to" address in the message header, "Jamie and I are from the same school, and the same major. And before you ask, no, she's not my SO. But she's a friend of mine, and of my SO. As for me...well, my full name is Eric James Bowersox. That's where my login name comes from...ERic BOwersox. I'm also 21; just turned legal the first of November. I enjoy science fiction, music (most kinds), long walks & talks with my SO, and computer programming; I magically get grades and money for doing the latter. You might have noticed my height, which is around 6'2", fairly tall, and my blue eyes and somewhat curly brown hair that my SO just loves. (Her name's Anne, by the way, and she's a feminist; I save the stuff on soc.feminism for her.) My favorite color is green...that cool, natural color that signifies life whereever we are in the universe. I enjoy seafood, steaks, Chinese food, and pizza, especially with a Diet Coke or two, and haven't managed to watch much television lately; perhaps that's for the best. I do want to see _Back to the Future II_, though; I enjoy sci-fi movies, along with sci-fi virtually-everything-else :-). "I work for a place you might not associate with computer programming...the Devereux Foundation in Santa Barbara, an organization for the developmentally disabled. I work in the Information Systems department, where I do financial programming in dBASE IV--don't laugh--and administer the newly-installed Novell LAN system. Meanwhile, I have to struggle with my classes, since I plan on graduating in June of 1990," he says, indicating the golden symbol hanging around his neck. "That's a Tau Beta Pi Bent, so it shows I've done some working to get where I am today. But I don't know how much longer I can keep it up. And what with searching for grad schools, as well as my duties as Computer Club President, it gets pretty harried. I hope I'll be able to pull through." He indicates the beagle with a wave of his hand as he pushes off from the bar and steps forward to the line. "And that's where ol'Snoop here comes in. She knows how tough it is, and she's trying hard to pull through too. And I know others among us are doing the same thing. So now," he says, "let's have us a toast: To our good Jamie Lynn Smith...and all of our brothers and sisters in arms everywhere! Long life and bug-free programs!" With one swift move, he drains the glass he's holding and sends it spinning into the flames, where it annihilates itself on the bricks of the fireplace. As he settles back against the bar, he idly wonders if Fast Eddie knows any Genesis tunes. -- | * Eric J. Bowersox (ERBO) * As always, opinions are solely mine. | | President & Sysop, UCSB Campus Computer Club, Santa Barbara | | ARPA:erbo@cornu.ucsb.edu BANG:...!{ucbvax,ucsd}!hub!cornu!erbo | | "I want a NeXT. I really do. I really really do." -- my roommate | Path: mit-eddie!wuarchive!uwm.edu!uwvax!sabertooth!lewandow From: lewandow@sabertooth.CS.WISC.EDU (Gary Lewandowski (TA of Doom)) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Story/Toast Message-ID: <9271@spool.cs.wisc.edu> Date: 1 Dec 89 01:53:27 GMT References: <89333.184753JDO103@PSUVM.BITNET> Sender: news@spool.cs.wisc.edu Reply-To: lewandow@sabertooth.CS.WISC.EDU (Gary Lewandowski (TA of Doom)) Organization: U of Wisconsin CS Dept Lines: 108 In article <89333.184753JDO103@PSUVM.BITNET> JDO103@PSUVM.BITNET (Someone) writes: > And with that, he turns and slowly walks out the door. All the while looking >like there was still something he wanted to say, but was afraid to mention... We're here whenever you're ready to mention it. (Insert a quiet, friendly smile here and read with a soft voice.) I'm not sure why your last line leapt out at me, but it sure did. So here I am, off of lurk status. (Hi Kathy! the room got warmer and friendlier when I saw your article -- a friendly face from r.a.c...) So, now that I've come out from my corner, I'll put down my bill, (a glass of milk, please [it wouldn't be me if I didn't ask for milk :-)]), and introduce myself. I like it here at Callahan's. I haven't read the books, but I'll look for them. Luckily I stumbled across the place as it opened, so I've been sitting in that corner unnoticed for awhile. The place reminds me of the group I used to work for in college - confidential listening and no judgements. It's my toast so I get to talk... This has been the greatest year of turmoil in my life. Three years of college went hectically, happily by; then the fourth started and mayhem ensued. Many of the things about leaving home that I'd managed to avoid reared their head. Most significant was the health of my father and the status of our farm. I could talk legions about my father, and one of these days perhaps I will. For now, it suffices to note that he started getting ill when I was in high school. That meant that I took over doing most of the chores. Although my family is quite large (I have 8 siblings), I was the last child in the line of 'initial children' -- I have a brother 13 years younger than me. So, he was too young to take over where I left off and my leaving for school meant Dad had to be on his own again. At first things seemed fine without me, creating that strange mix of elation and sadness that life could go on without me. Then, during second year, his health really dived. The doctors had horrible hell finding what was wrong. At last they discovered his blood had a gammagobulin (sp?) deficiency -- this is important for making antibodies, and helped explain his frequent illnesses. Well, they started treating that, and third year seeped by. Summer came and he was getting sick more and more often. They decided to sell the cows as I started my fourth year. It was a wise decision, but that's when it really hit me that I had left home. Ever get those feelings that "if only I had stayed..."? The hope was that without the cows to tire him out he could recover. Fat chance. Last winter brought the same illness problems as before. The doctor kept looking, scan after scan, test after test, but nothing could be found. We all knew what we were looking for (that whispered C word), but it *wasn't* there. Spring came. My graduation time rolled around, and I managed to bring my parents to Chicago for the one and only time during my college career. We even had a good time. My father had been ill, but was better it seemed. The day they got back home he got a fever that skyrocketed, and went into the hospital for a week. The tests were rerun. My mother's voice on the answering machine said I should call home. My father answered and gave me the news in his typically matter of fact way. They had finally found the cancer. Maybe the lower part of the lung would be removed, or if it's bad the middle too. Really bad then the whole lung. It was really bad. Worse than really bad -- it had spread into his shoulder as well. All this while I stayed and worked, trying to earn enough money to tide me over until my first check from grad school. My father insisted I not come out. (And if I could give him control over one aspect of his life, then I would.) They didn't know if he'd make it, but he did. Then the radiation came (I was home for that), and he lost lots of weight. Always thin, he dropped 5 then 10 then more pounds. He'd try to eat, but radiation changes your taste and it was hard for him to find things he could handle. After I went off to school again (now grad school), he got better, and they took him off the oxygen. Still, his weight didn't increase and my mother's stress level did. Then one night I came home to the answering machine again. My mother telling me to *not worry*. Her voice said it all though. This time he was in for three weeks, and almost died. His heart just can't handle it anymore. The climatic night came when they asked him if he wanted to be recessetated (oh how do you spell it?) when his heart gave out. In the middle of the night he was sure he'd die, but he didn't. If you're familiar with the poem about footsteps in the sand you understand him saying that there was only one set that night. Then he got better; started eating, and came home within the week. So, I was home for the holidays, and there he sits. I'm glad he's still here, but sad that my father who fished and played ball and ran a farm is now sitting in a chair, attached to an oxygen hose. He is getting better; he walks more now, his weight is back over 100 lbs. (He's 5'11" BTW.) We hope for another year; one last chance to go fishing; walking my sister down the wedding aisle; a year for my mother and younger brother. Yeah, a year for me to say goodbye. This toast is to my dad. I'll go back to my corner for awhile now... Thanks for listening. gary lewandow@cs.wisc.edu "It's too late to correct it," said the Red Queen. "When you've once said a thing, that fixes it, and you must take the consequences." Path: mit-eddie!wuarchive!decwrl!ucbvax!mtxinu!unisoft!greywolf From: greywolf@unisoft.UUCP (The Grey Wolf) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: soulmates Summary: Yes, they're real... Message-ID: <2664@unisoft.UUCP> Date: 30 Nov 89 08:19:10 GMT References: <43561@bu-cs.BU.EDU> Reply-To: greywolf@unisoft.UUCP (The Grey Wolf) Organization: None whatsoever. You don't believe me? See my desk sometime. Lines: 79 A weary, but not tired, white -- < shakeshakeshakeshakeshakeshake> -- er, grey wolf walks back in (I have to sysad sometimes, y'know?), walks over to Gilly. {Hello, my friend. I remember you -- it was most delightful receiving a reply from someone out there.} He nuzzles and licks Gilly's hand, then, noticing the tear on her cheek, thinks better and licks that away instead. {Let me rid you of that. I'll be back.} He plods over to the bar, thinks something at Mike, who unzips a pouch about the wolf's neck and extracts two dollar bills. {Yes, I finally have a real- world device in which to carry cash when I need to.}. {Thank you, Michael.} He carries one over to the line, gingerly, so as not to spill any of the bright green liquid. Without warning, he metamorphoses into a 5'10", 135# slender man (well, that's debatable...), with long, wavy/curly brown hair (a couple of silver and white ones if you look REALLLLL close) {and proud of 'em!}, wearing a pair of black corduroys, a grey suede jacket, a pair of black motorcycle boots {I drive a VW bus -- really!}, and a pair of intense green eyes just as the wolf had. He steps up to the line. "To soulmates, indeed, for they do exist for those who are ready to find them. It may take a while, and you might find out that you just cannot be with them in the end. I know several who have found this out. But having lost her once in a different time, I will not forfeit this time. "I am but four and twenty years of age now... sometimes it may seem like I'm just a kid, for in many ways I am, and in others, I've been from one end of this universe to the other, and I instinctively know what people feel and why. "My mom used to kid me about being five going on forty, and even my father tells me I was born eighty... "Anyway, when the opportunity is right for one to meet one's soulmate, it will happen. A good place to start is to write down exactly what your ideal would be. Allow for differences in opinion and preference, but write down *to the most miniscule detail you can imagine* what you want in some- one. And if you want to avoid REALLY messy problems, specify 'single', please. I forgot that one... "And then forget about what you have written. Put it away someplace where you might dredge it up again sometime. Look it over. Put it back and for- get about it again. Foremost, live your life never expecting it to happen. It may, it may not, but don't worry about it. I almost married someone be- fore I found my special person. "Well, it worked for me. Anyone want a good idea of what it is to have a soulmate, then lose her? Listen to _Turn of the Century_ sometime. It's on 'Going for the One' by a group called Yes, if you didn't know... "If anyone out there has found their soulmate and is with him/her permanent- ly, my congratulations to you. It's nice to know that someone can do that. "To everyone else who is interested in finding a soulmate, don't look so hard. You may be pleasantly surprised." "So, really, this toast is to soulmates and potential soulmates -- may each match up with the other and live a long, happy life. I don't wish that you will find your way through your differences -- I know you will, else you weren't supposed to." He downs the glass of Midori and turns around and hurls the glass full-force into the fireplace as if attempting to powder it. He then metamorphoses back into the wolf, and carries the other glass of Midori over to Gilly. { Try this. I think you'll find it does a world of good. Thanks again. Love, hugs and warm fuzzies... } And he plods over to the bar to get yet a third glass and takes it back to the spot next to Gilly for lack of knowledge of who is seated where, and stretches out on the floor (carpet?), paws forward, ever watching the line to see who else will walk in and/or step up to the line... -- "Like leaves we touched, we danced; we once knew the story As Autumn called and we both remembered all those many years ago. I'm sure we know..." Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!cs.utexas.edu!uunet!image.soe.clarkson.edu!news From: stadnism@clutx.clarkson.edu (Steven Stadnicki,9B23 Woodstock,2680000,5186432664) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Request for Personal Info About Posters Message-ID: <1989Dec1.042626.9079@sun.soe.clarkson.edu> Date: 1 Dec 89 04:26:26 GMT References: <3170@hub.UUCP> Sender: news@sun.soe.clarkson.edu Reply-To: stadnism@clutx.clarkson.edu Organization: Clarkson University, Potsdam, NY Lines: 120 From article <3170@hub.UUCP>, by snoopy@fig.ucsb.edu (Smith, Jamie Lynn): > Hey, here's an idea.... Let's all post a little bit about our true selves... > interests, hobbies, jobs, age, sex, height, hair color, favorite food, > favorite color, fav tv shows, etc, anything of interest. Oh, for College > students (of which I am... Beagles are very smart ;-)), majors and Colleges, > oh, and location within this country/world might be good, too. This way, > those of us with common interests can get discussions going about those ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ > interests. ^^^^^^^^^^ I'll agree with that, but try your best to keep it mostly to E-mail; for a lot of interests, there's already an appropriate group, and there's always rec.misc and misc.misc... I wouldn't complain much if such showed up here, but it's got the possibility of getting out of hand... In the meantime: Steven Stadnicki Height: 6'e" (or a little less... about 6'2) Weight: 25pi kg (okay, okay... about 175 lbs) hair: brown and scruffy eyes: greenish-grey sex: male age: 19 soc. sec: xxx-xx-xxxx :-) currently going to Clarkson University, way waayyy up there at the top of New York State (Potsdam) and ostensibly majoring in Computer Science favorite food: TAGQ. Varies a lot with the season, but Lobster and piping hot apple pie with heaps of ice cream on top (not together) come to mind. And pizza. Don't forget the pizza. favorite color: Blue. Never could figure out why, but that's definitely it. favorite TV shows: Actually, I don't watch TV much anymore. The occaisional network show, a few movies, some PBS here and there (the Peter Paul and Mary Christmas show last night, for example), news, Jeopardy, and too many videos (not eMpTyV, usually, but VH-1; I've got (sorta) quiet tastes in music). favorite Music: lotsa stuff. Predominantly "think" music, with a fair helping of other stuff, too. Naming names: Paul Simon (esp. 'Hearts and Bones'--some great songs about relationships), Harry Chapin (the greatest musical storyteller ever, in my opinion), Jethro Tull, Michelle Shocked, some local performers (in particular, Dennis D'Asaro and 'Poncho'), and I could go on and on and on... interests: well, right now I've got a vested interest ('with matching pants', he said, ducking bricks) in trying to be here next semester... other than that, there's math, physics, and compsci, and some interrelations between them... especially computer graphics (I'm working on a ray tracer), general relativity, the various manefestations of chaos and nonlinearity, and some generally odd bits of mathematics (the mathematical theory of Dots and Boxes, life, etc...) hobbies: hoo boy. And you thought I was rambling before... SF, of course, though not as much as I used to. Sturgeon's ratio (a corrolary of Sturgeon's law, the ratio of good stuff to garbage) keeps dropping lower and lower, or so it seems... some people still interest me, though. Anne McCaffrey. Heinlein. Chris Stasheff. Spider, of course, though I can only find the Callahan's books around here. Pamela Dean, Will Shetterly, and the rest of the 'Minnesota Collective'; see if you can find a copy of 'Liavek' and see what I'm talking about. Lucius Shepard. And lots and lots of people I've forgotten... Math is an interest, but I suppose you could group it as a hobby too... Walking (not for fitness, just walking around, admiring things)... not very fun in the current climate, but still interesting... Cross-country skiing, when I can (a positive aspect of the climate...) Backrubs Talking. Listening. All the little (and not-so-little) things that go with being a true friend. High phone bills (I call two California BBSs, about once or twice a week, for at least half an hour each time...) And finally, probably one of my biggest hobbies right now: comics. yep, that's right. A fair chunk of you know what I mean... Austin does, for sure, and Kathy, and a couple of other names here seem familiar... to those of you who might not know, comics now are (IMHO) about where SF was in the 50's; slowly expanding their market and starting to produce a surprising amount of quality stuff. On the other hand, the situation is somewhat different; I don't think SF has ever really been prone to the 'big two' phenomenon that's an unfortunate way of life in the comics industry. A lot of (hell, most of the) top-notch writers and artists are plugging out unrecognised books for little 'independent' publishers. A few of my favorites, both books and writer/artists: _Hepcats_, by Martin Wagner. A slice-of-life comic book set in a more-or-less collegiate atmosphere, with some of the realest characters I've ever seen; check out the four pages with Erica in #3 for a good idea of what I mean. _Love and Rockets_, by the Hernandez brothers. I can't even begin to describe how good this is; it literally has to be seen to be believed. Donna Barr does one of the weirdest comics I've seen, _The Desert Peach_, which isn't really about gay Nazis in North Afrika, despite what you might have heard. :-) Seriously, it's a very clever, occasionally funny book that might just surprise you. She also does _Stinz_, but I'll let Kathy talk about that... Grant Morrison's stuff is probably the closest thing to 'real' SF in comics today... and there are lots and lots and lots of others. I couldn't even begin to describe most of them, but I'll list a few... _Omaha, the Cat Dancer_ (not for the prudish or sexually repressed, but very good nonetheless--and written by a woman, with a somewhat feminist slant, so it's not a 'stroke rag', either); _Albedo_, military SF with a twist; _Star Trek_, esp. #2, with a guest appearance by someone who shall go nameless (:-); and I could go on and on and on, but I'll stop now and let you get back to the world outside... Steven Stadnicki stadnism@clutx.clarkson.edu "The characters and events in this book...are totally ficticious, and any resemblance to actual persons or events would be pretty weird." Path: mit-eddie!bu-cs!snorkelwacker!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!ucbvax!ucdavis!pollux!ez000691 From: ez000691@pollux Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: soulmates Message-ID: <6119@ucdavis.ucdavis.edu> Date: 1 Dec 89 04:01:20 GMT References: <43561@bu-cs.BU.EDU> Sender: uucp@ucdavis.ucdavis.edu Reply-To: ez000691@pollux (Shadow) Followup-To: alt.callahans Organization: University of California, Davis Lines: 139 Keywords: inspiration Summary: Goodness! In article <43561@bu-cs.BU.EDU> gilly@bucsf.bu.edu (Gilly Rosenthol) writes: >The door opens slowly, and Gilly glumly walks in. She nods a silent >hello to her friends. They can see from her face that there is >something wrong, but for once, even the hugs they offer help but >little. At the bar, Mike takes her wrinkles dollar bill and silently >hands her something a bit stronger than her usual hot chocolate. She >sips it slowly on the way to the chalk line, shuddering a bit at the >unfamiliar taste of alcohol. Gilly seems undecided as to whether or >not to make a toast. There's nothing that anyone can really do - why >burden these fine people with unsolvable problems? But then, shared >pain is diminished, and this pain has been building for quite a while >now. So, with a half-smile toward the Shadow in the corner for giving >her the encouragement necessary, she finishes the bitter liquid in her >glass and prepares to make her toast. Looking down at the glass, she >says with a quiet intensity, "Do soulmates really exist? I wonder. >Greywolf says he's found his, and that gives me some hope, but *where >the hell is mine*? Alright, I'm only twenty, and I know that's young. >But dammit, there are times when I feel so damned alone. I don't >understand it. I'm a nice person, got a decent sense of humor, I'm >fairly attractive - you would think I could find someone. But the >last time I had a real boyfriend was two years ago, and that only >lasted for a month. I miss that intimacy so much. I have friends I >can talk to, but it's just not the same." She sighs, and a tear rolls >down her cheek. "Bloody hell. I'm sorry - no, I *won't* apologize >for my feelings. It just - sort of builds up on you sometimes, >y'know? Oh, I'll be alright in a little while. I just made the >mistake last night of watching a romantic movie alone. Not the >smartest thing I've ever done. I had a good cry, and got a lot of it >out of my system, but it seems there's still some left I had to let >out. Thanks for listening, guys." She smiles wanly, and throws the >glass into the fireplace with more force than one would have thought >she possessed. "To soulmates - and finding them soon." She walks >quietly over to a table, rests her head on her arms, and prepares >herself for a quiet cry among friends. >-- >+--------------------+-------------------------------------------------------+ >| Gilly Rosenthol |"Don't dream it, be it" -The Rocky Horror Picture Show | >| gilly@bucsb.bu.edu |"On ne voit bien qu'avec le coeur. | >| | L'essentiel est invisible aux yeux." -Le Petit Prince | >+--------------------+-------------------------------------------------------+ The fellow who toasted brevity (and quite right, too!) slips out the door. A few others inobtrusively follow. There is a bit of uncomfortable silence. After all, it's been a pretty serious night, and even the most incorrigable punsters are somewhat dis- corriged by the atmosphere. Finally Shadow calls over to Fast Eddie: "Play 'Prelude' if you know it, and I don't mean Bach." He wanders over to the counter, taking his time, and slips Mike a buck, collecting an Irish Cocoa (that must be what they're called, mustn't it?). Instead of going to the line, though, he sinks into a chair and sips his drink. With a smile at Gilly, he says, "If nothing else, I'm glad my little spiel brought this out. You know, there's a time in your life when just about any movie can fall into the category of 'don't watch this alone' unless it's a screwball comedy. I still sniffle at *Broadcast News*, fercryinoutloud. "Friends are hard enough to come by without worrying about boy-/girl- friends. People are like little islands (poetry be damned), with thick stone walls with little tiny windows in them for looking out at the other islands and throwing things at them if they float too near. Once in a great while we hold off on the throwing stuff long enough to get to know another person, and if we're very lucky we get together and build a little bridge to connect us, and float around together. Of course, if the distance between the islands gets too great, the bridge will collapse through no fault of either party. It's just one of those things that happens sometimes, when you don't keep in close proximity... "And now, on top of that, if you don't mind my carrying a silly analogy even further, we're driven to find someone who'll help us smash down the walls altogether, at least on one side -- his side. Not an encouraging prospect, when we're still polishing up our catapults." Something seems to have made him angry, for no recognizable reason. "Perhaps that's why we have these terminals in front of us, so that we can have another set of walls, breached only at our pleasure, and if we want we can seal them up forever and ignore the hails of visitors, or install one-way glass, so we can look out, but no one can touch us..." At this point Eddie breaks off and swings into "I Am a Rock -- I Am an Island" and even Shadow chortles. "Thanks, Eddie. Do that more often, will you? 'Bout time I stopped talking without getting anywhere. What I meant to say was really not all that deep and meaningful anyway. I just felt sort of responsible for anyone I've encouraged, and besides, this time I really do know what you mean... "Twenty's not so young. Maybe it's young for the net, where you won't find anyone much below seventeen, but it's almost certainly not young for the Place, where i don't think the drinking age is so strictly enforced..." A barrage of glasses hits the fireplace from around the room. "Point confirmed. And anyway, what makes you think that a fifth of your life is somehow insig- nificant compared to what's left? It's all important. "For myself, I thought I loved a girl, once...I seem to have this amazing propensity for getting strongly attracted to females who are virtu- ally engaged and have been for years. The first time it happened, I stayed obsessed with her for three years, at which point she did break up with her boyfriend -- actually, he dumped her, the miserable swine -- and started going out with...my best friend, to whom she is currently, repeat after me, practically engaged. You'd think I would have learned my lesson, but I let something like that happen again, too. Zero-for-two is not a terribly en- couraging record. "So, getting back to the point--" "There's a point to all this?" Tommy Janssen wonders aloud. Shadow tips a non-existent cap to him. "Of course there is. What did you think, that I just liked hearing myself talk? Don't answer that," he adds, quickly. Doc Webster guffaws. "The point is, no problem is completely insoluble. Or insolvable. I knew I should have paid more attention in chemistry. "Anyway, if I were you, I'd get myself a backrub and some fudge in a hurry. And for intimacy, unless you meant physical intimacy, there's always here. You've opened up more than once already -- and that's a very encouraging record indeed. Don't, however, spend all day crouched before a glowing screen; I've known more than one individual acquire a terminal disease that way." He ducks a cascade of peanuts. "And for your soulmate..." he trails off, finishes the cocoa, and absently rubs the tabby cat's shoulders. "...I'll bet you have an admirer you're not even aware of somewhere. Some shy fellow who sits in the corner of one of your classes, or lives down the hall, or, more likely, met you through some extra-curricular activity. (If you haven't got any extra- curricular activites, go get some in a hurry!) And, if all else fails, come back in here for a sympathitic ear. "One final word." ("Thank the lord," someone mutters.) "Don't listen to me. I don't know what I'm talking about. I haven't got a soulmate either. Actually, I'm expecting a somewhat disatrous letter from a very good friend of mine in Chicago within the next couple of days, to the effect of, 'Can we just be friends?' Serves me right for writing what I did. I only hope I haven't screwed up our friendship too terribly. Please, don't start thinking that finding the One is the most important thing in the world. Remember what I started with, about twenty minutes ago? Friends. Love thy friends. All else will follow. Especially hugs. And lots of warm fuzzies. And," he adds, "no more loneliness." Before he sits back down, he speaks again. "Oh, one more thing I forgot. Well, two actually," he continues, ignoring some pointed yawns. "First, no toast tonight. This'll make up for the people who've been smashing glasses and collecting change. Shame on them, and you're lucky Mike's in a good mood or there'd be more than one crack in that door." He grins. "Second, here's a recipe for that fudge I was mentioning earlier, if anyone cares to try it. It's the easiest thing in the world. There are only three ingredients. 18 ounces of chocolate chips. One can of sweetened condensed milk. One teaspoon vanilla. Melt. Put in a pan coated with wax paper. Chill. That's it. It's incredibly rich and no doubt horribly bad for you and I can't think of too many better ways to go." With that, he finally fades back into the shadows, with one last glance for Gilly, wishing her well. Shadow -- From the only slightly twisted mind of... "In case we decide to ez000691@pollux.ucdavis.edu surrender to them, Number One."