there are no new experiences    only evolving thoughts
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    flowers of disruption #29 -- 12.11.99 -- by trilobyte
        == the zine for tasha & anjee ==

my nose is cold but you don't know that because you're not here but i'll
tell you by building a train to champaign -- the first train from here to
there, and its whistle would blow in different tones to yell "HELLO!"

"HELLO!"  yes it would yell and "MY NOSE IS COLD!  I THOUGHT YOU SHOULD
KNOW!"  the train of pain and heartache would moan moan moan down the
track, a straight track, the train would not be quite alive because being
alive means more than going from here to there occasionally blurting out a
noise -- the SAME noise -- just in different tones, even a dog can make
different noises,  different noises at different notes, and it can eat and
go more than just from here to there, a DOG can go everywhere.  

yes, i suppose that's the difference between a train and a dog

but then 

does man's creation of the car mean anything more toward our mission to 
create mechanical life?  the car can turn left and right and make choices, 
the car can groan, though always the same note.  the car eats fuel but the 
car can't go UP or down like a PLANE but a PLANE is too big to maneuver over
our hills and into lakes and things, and look at the small wheels we put on
those -- what kind of massacre would take place when a plane hit a deer?
lots of cars go KABLOOEY when they kill a large animal such as that, and
with the small chicken-legs of the massive plane, the small chicken-legs on
wheels... it's disaster on the runway.  it could probably tear me to bits,
if i stood in front of it.  maybe that's what i'll try tomorrow.  little
bist and pieces of me could be stuck to the chicken legs of a plane as it
flies all over the world.  that is, if they didn't wash my blood and guts
off of it.  fucking assholes.

and though my body might be stuck to the plane in little chunks of blood
and flesh, i can't say that my soul would be with it.  my soul could just
fly other places by itself.  

but really i can't say that because i've never just been a soul without a
body.  hell, who knows if maybe i've just been a body without a soul.  i
could take lessons from the greats of soul, the people who seem to have
found their spiritual habitat here on this planet.  they're "IN TOUCH" with
their insides, they can grope around and feel the things that we can't see
or touch or hear.  but i'm told some people CAN hear those gropable things.
those dead people that walk around and sit in sofas and talk to you when you
don't expect them to.  some people can even draw these spirits into being,
they can invite them to their pad to chill for a bit.  but maybe spirits
can't chill.  maybe they're always chilling.  you can't chill without
alcoholic drinks, or Spirits, as they're called.  and ghosts probably can't
drink liquor.  but they're already spirits.  that's the confusing part
about being a ghost.

the other confusing part about being a ghost is that you take the form of a
human being, though you really don't have any form to speak of.  so if you
look in a mirror, how are you going to see yourself?  but living folks,
people, can see ghosts in mirrors, so obviously the ghosts really do take
form.  or maybe the people who see ghosts in mirrors aren't really seeing
ghosts at all.  maybe they're not even seeing mirrors.  maybe light plays
tricks on everyone.  we're all just beams of light anyway.  you know those
little quarks people talk about?  the quarks that make up the electrons and
neutrons and all that bazoo?  well those quarks are just little particles
of light and they bounce around and they've got their own language but we
can't talk to them because our language is much different than theirs.
their language involves bouncing around and being happy or sad or neutral.

and tomorrow i'm going to throw a party for the quarks.  i'm going to get a
bunch of bottles of champagne and we're going to celebrate light.  the
light celebration.  and i'll pop the corks or quarks or yeah, i'll pop the
Corks on the bottles of champagne because i don't think the QUARKS would
like to be popped, but then how would i know?  i've never asked them.  if
they like bouncing around they might like to be Popped because then they
can bounce even faster and WHEE IT'S LIKE WE'RE PARTICLES ON A TRAMPOLINE.

society was fine until we started killing people for money.  that's just
stupid.  without people, there would be no money.  so what use is money if
there are no people?  mercenaries have got it all wrong, they need to wake
up and taste the grease running down their walls.  they need to walk over
there and LICK LICK lap it up like the dogs that they are.  they live for
money.  and they'll die, whether they have money or not.  and so will i.
maybe i'll die faster if i have no money.  that would be sad.  if i got
really sick and had no money and couldn't go to the hospital.  

maybe i could go to the hospital, but then i'd owe the hospital lots of
money because they saved my life.  i could then kill myself for the money
and pay off the debts!  but that would completely defeat the purpose of
having even been born but i didn't ask for that in the first place.

OOOHHH  THE POOR LITTLE WHINEY BOY DIDN'T ASK TO BE BORN.  LISTEN TO HIM
WHINE.  THAT'S SO TYPICAL OF A KID WEARING A BLACK T SHIRT.  I AM GOING TO
WHOOP HIM FROM HERE TO HIGH HEAVEN

and then i get sent to the hospital and can't pay the bills and

YEAH SHUT UP.  YOUR LOGIC MEANS NOTHING TO ME.  I AM FRAT-BOY.

suck me, frat boy.

HE HE HEHE HE HEH EEHEHEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

            feed me some intellectual nonsense:

                        the people in the east 
                        had a large feast
                        to prepare for their fast
                        
                        it ended up bad
                        and everybody died
                        (from malnutrition)
                        
                        because gods don't kill people like mercenaries. 
gods
have no use for money.  except that we can melt it down to make gold, and
then melt the gold to make gold-gas, which will then float up into the
atmosphere where the gods live with their pets and they walk around feeding
brown pellets to everyone and smiles smiles smiles we ain't had it none
better than this, the life is here and we're livin' it!

    hey!  we're gods!  we know right from wrong, and only consent to the
wrong!  

(he maintains that it was consentual.  the best of his life.)
    nobody asked him if it wasn't.
(he maintains that it was consentual.  the best of his life.)
    yell well i've been there, and i agree.
(consentual?)
    yeah, consent to what's wrong, baby.
(if it's what makes you happy.)
    oh boy, did it ever.
(he said it made him pretty happy.)
    well sometimes poets are very arcane.
(the guy with the funny beard?)
    yeah and he might be missing a tooth.
(where?)
    in a different dimension.  the one where i PUNCHED HIM IN THE MOUTH FOR
ACTING LIKE HE HAD A CLUE WHAT WAS GOING ON AROUND HIM BUT JUST BEING
ANOTHER PUNCH DOLL AND WHEN HE GETS KNOCKED OVER HE BOUNCES UP WAY UP HIGH
TOWARD THE CLOUDS AND COMES BACK DOWN THE SAME.
(yeah i met that guy)
    did he write poetry about you?
(pat me on the head, treat me like a baby)
    yeah, baby, yeah yeah yeah.

ON FIRE THEY SAY SHE'S ON FIRE THEY SAY SHE WANTS THE NEXT GUY TO BE HER
FIRST.  THE NEXT GUY EVEN IF HE'S THE SAME BUT SOMETIMES SAME MEANS THE
BEST EVER KNOWN, YOU KNOW?

(i know.)

AND CHANCES ARE THAT IT WON'T EVEN BE THAT GOOD, IT WON'T BE MORE THAN A
CONVERSATION PIECE FOR THE NEXT CENTURY, SOMETHING TO GET OUT OF THE WAY TO
MOVE ON TO THE DARKER NASTIER PLACE TOWARDS WHICH WE ARE ALL HEADED 

(on that train's track?)

    SOME MAY CALL IT PROGRESS BUT PROGRESS SHOULDN'T BE NEGATIVE
    
(who are you to say that it's negative?)

    I CAN'T SAY I KNOW WHERE IT'S TAKING US, I DON'T KNOW WHERE THE ULTIMATE
    DESTINATION WILL BE, I DON'T KNOW IF THERE ARE FIRES IN HELL OR GOLD IN
    HEAVEN BUT I FEEL LIKE I'M BEING TAKEN DOWN.

                    shut up whine boy
                    i've had enough out of you
                    you're just jealous

    JEALOUS TO BE A PART OF SOMETHING I ABHOR.  SURE.
    
    i can't allow myself to be jealous of anything that's not ideal.
    
                    well then what's ideal, whine boy?

    something that's shiny and lasts forever.

                    you like shiny things, whine boy?  are you a turkey? 
                    tin foil's a lot cheaper than silver.  munch munch
munch.

    yeah so now you're saying i'm poor.

                    spiritually, perhaps.

    YEAH WE'VE BEEN THROUGH THAT.  WHAT ELSE DO YOU WANT?

                    oh nothing.  you're too stupid.

    great.

                    no, i'm just kidding.  what would you call 'spiritually
                    poor'?

    not knowing what you're doing is wrong.

                    really?
    
    ...ok... knowing what you're doing is wrong but doing it anyway.

                    and what would you gain?

    ...i don't know, what?

                    tin foil.

    ...but if you try to do what's right?

                    silver and gold.

    yeah, i figured... <yawn>

                    should i shoot you in the head now?

    no, don't bother.

<exit stage right>

*&#@%*&(@#%(*&))*&#@%*&)(#@%)*&@&#)*(%&)@(#%*&@#)(%*&@#%

        flower on the head of a cat.  flowers that dismantled a bat.  flower
on top of a bus.  bus that tours with a band.  bus that drives down an
interstate.  bus that right turns and left turns.  turns that make people
move.  turns that BUST A FUCKIN' MOVE.  MOVES THAT MAKE WOMEN SCREAM.
MOVES LIKE MILK FILLED WITH CREAM.  GLEAM IN THE COLD SUMMER SUN.  CREAM
TURNS SOLID, a doo ron ron ron, a doo ron ron.  

    flowers of disruption growling, hanging, sleeping.  flowers of
disruption are bats!~  flowers of disruption are dogs%#!  flowers of
disruption are a well-defined nose on a plain yet gorgeous face, smiling
like only a nose can smile.  knowing that only noses can smile.  nosing
like smiles on faces.  facing the nose on the smile.  placing the tail on
the donkey.  placemats of elegant fancy.  fencing with laxative glee.  

        "ack!  i pooped my white suit."

            "en-garde!#@"

    *smash*
                    *clang!*
        *gut!*
                        OWWWW  

            HhHAhAh       i win!    but when DON'T i?  I NEVER DON'T!#%   I
NEVER DON'T WIN!#@%$   IT'S ALWAYS WIN WIN WIN WIN HERE THERE AND
EVERYWHERE!  AROUND AND ABOUT LIKE A PURPLE GOLD TROUT! !   YELLING AT MOM,
GRAB THAT THING AND GET IT OUT OF MY FRANCE!!   REVOLUTIONARY TENDENCIES
ARE FOR THE BOHEMES!!   DARKEN YOUR SKIN BEFORE YOU RETURN!!  TAN BY THE
CELLULAR TOWERS!! !!    ANYTHING !!   JUST DON'T COME BACK HERE, WHITEY
FRENCHY GUARD-BASKET. TASKET CRISPY TANGY BARCLAY WITH A NICE FINISHING
TOUCH.

                                      ŠÕÕª                 .-.
  Š»ÕÕÕº  Šª      Š»ÕÕÕÕº       ŠÕª          ŠŠÕÕÕÕÕÕÕª    | |  this was an
  ††      ††      ††  ŠÕª       † †   †ÕÕ†   †††           | | honestly bad
  †»ÕÕÕº  ††      ††  † †  ŠÕÕÕÕ†Õ†   †  †   †††           | |   time-waster
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  ††      ŠÕÕÕÕÕª †ŠÕÕª †  †    † †   †  †          »»»    | |    filler
  »º      »ÕÕÕÕÕº »»ÕÕºÕº  »ÕÕÕÕ»Õº   »ÕÕº   »»ÕÕÕÕÕÕÕº    | |   from
.----------------------------------------------------------| |     trilobyte
`----------------------------------------------------------`-'
          flodis / flowers of disruption #29 / 12.11.99 / trilobyte@hoe.nu
     tell your friends to strangle their neighbors with flodis

