
'##::::'##:::'#####:::'########:| THE HELOTS OF ECSTASY PRESS RELEASE #430 !!
 ##:::: ##::'##.. ##:: ##.....::|==========================================!!
 ##:::: ##:'##:::: ##: ##:::::::|  "The Glorious Fate of a Boy Who Failed  !!
 #########: ##:::: ##: ######:::|   in Life and Then Failed at Suicide,    !!
 ##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...::::| A Story That Proves Beyond The Shadow of !!
 ##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##:::::::| A Doubt that Idiots Get Much More Out of !!
 ##:::: ##::. #####::: ########:|  Life than any Wise Men, as they Travel  !! 
 HOE #430 -- by Kreid -- 1/13/99|    Through Life Amazed and Bewildered"   !!
 !!========================================================================!!

        I feel the need to explain something about myself, in order to
 justify my actions or attitude, or something about me which nobody seems
 to approve of lately.  No matter how hard I try to avoid it, there is
 always this trend in me that I possess a strong and deep-rooted hatred
 for just about everything in this world.  I feel that it is biological,
 somehow.  I am a naturally hate-filled individual.  However:  I am not a
 violent person.  I don't want to hurt anyone, I just want to stay away
 from everyone.  The only reason people get hurt with me is because they
 choose to care about me and decide that it's their responsibility to
 make me feel happy.  This is a huge mistake.  I've been alive for quite
 some time, and nobody has ever made me feel any differently about this.
 Yes, it sucks to be me.  It sucks to get involved with me.  So stay
 away, please.

        I think this might be irrelevant to the story I have to tell,
 but for some reason it came to my mind instantly when I thought of this.
 The story is not about hating, not at all.  It's about finding myself
 completely in love with the world, momentarily.  Yes, this does happen
 once in a while.  I feel a bit poetic for a little while, I feel like
 life is glorious, just until I realize again that I am a complete piece
 of shit because I am human.  I do feel a little sick right now from
 writing that.  Yes, I am human, I must keep reminding myself, I must
 come to terms with it, as disgusting as it sounds to me.  The truth is
 always disgusting.

        Now, some people who are like me have to use drugs to
 momentarily fall in love with the world.  I think this is the right way
 to get along with life if you're like me, but I would hate to delude
 myself like that.  I just do it, most of the time, by coming very, very,
 close to death, which is what some drugs do to you anyway.  So it's a
 similar experience, just probably more real and more complicated for me,
 the non-drug user, I think.  But that's what happened three nights ago
 when I found myself in love with the world.  Let me explain what
 happened.

        What was happening when I realized that I was in love with the
 world is that I was driving in my car, down this long highway, at
 around 4:00 A.M. I must have been going about thirty miles per hour, and
 I was probably taking up about three lanes, the way I was driving.  I
 was really fucking tired, to the point where I wasn't even falling
 asleep at the wheel anymore; I was waking up at the wheel, every couple
 minutes.  Why I wasn't arrested that night, I have no idea.  But I made
 it home, after driving for about two hours in this fashion.  I was quite
 a bit amazed.  So what I did I do when I got home?  I celebrated, of
 course.  I decided to commit suicide.

        I ran upstairs to the bathroom and poured some pills down my
 throat.  Dramamine.  It was fucking disgusting.  I ate twenty-two of
 them, only stopping after that many because I was on the verge of puking
 my guts out.  The ingestion of chemicals like this is too often even
 more unpleasant than the chemicals' eventual assault on the body.  The
 fucking Dramamine pills dissolve in your mouth too quickly, you can't
 even down them fast enough with a glass of water.  You just get this
 powdered medicine shit all over your mouth and tongue, and then the
 little fuckers get caught in your throat and you have to try to bring
 them up again just so you can swallow them, again.  A most unpleasant
 experience.

        I was quite prepared to die, though.  I went right over to my bed
 and waited for the stomachache to go away, which it did in about five
 minutes.  From then on it was just a waiting game.  Wait for the drugs
 to take effect and off you.  I felt like I was going to pass out, which
 pissed me off since it was a pretty pansy way to die, in your sleep,
 that is.

        So I got up, which was quite difficult for me, being that the
 gravity in the room had increased by about six hundredfold.  But I
 managed to put one leg in front of the other and stumble about my room
 well enough to get to the two-liter bottle of cola I had sitting on my
 bookshelf.  I picked it up, and started pouring it down my throat.   It
 took me about five gulps to down the whole thing, then I threw it on the
 floor.  Then I just let my legs go from underneath me, and I hit the
 floor too, right next to the big plastic bottle.  I wasn't going to pass
 out, though.  I got the feeling that I was really going to have to piss
 soon, and that was a shitty thought, because I didn't want to flush the
 drugs out of my system or anything.  I just held it in.  I rested there
 on the floor for about half an hour before I felt what I perceived to be
 death.  I was completely paralyzed on my floor, and I got the feeling
 that reality was just about ceasing to exist for me.  Looking around my
 room, seeing it from the ground up, I developed quite a distrust for
 what my eyes were putting in front of me.  For example, I had this idea
 that there was a Picasso on my wall, and it took me about 15 minutes of
 staring at it to realize that the painting didn't even exist.  A strange
 effect, I thought. I've done a lot of illicit substances before and I've
 never quite left reality to the degree I did that night.

        So I kept waiting to see the grim reaper, or my grandmother, or
 something telling me I had finally bit the dust.  Of course, it never
 happened, as you know, I'm not quite dead right now, unfortunately.  The
 fucking Dramamine pills did absolutely nothing for ending my life.  All
 I can see that they did is they gave me this intense experience and
 probably left me with about eight ulcers.  Anyway, I know I said drugs
 just wouldn't do it for me, but that was sort of a half-lie.  18
 Dramamine pills made me completely in love with the world.  Momentarily.
 It was a horrible fucking experience, my stomach hurts just thinking
 about it.  Every moment of it I just wanted to die or come back to
 reality, but I was in that haze for what could easily have been an
 eternity.  But, eons later, I have awakened, and I am enlightened.
 Totally at peace with myself.  And it is for this reason that I am
 writing this note to you.  Now I must be dismissed, I have an
 engagement with the medicine cabinet.

        Goodbye!

 !!========================================================================!!
 !! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS!    HOE #430, WRITTEN BY: KREID - 1/13/99 !!
