(startfile: 1.55.00am 8.7.96)

Neko's welcome
--------------

werD! Not much is going on here...I realized I forgot some people from my crush 
list in the last issue, so I'll try to remember to add them on here. Also, one 
person analyzed my dream! Thanks oods! Read her analysis somewhere in here. ON 
a final note, I massmailed flc 4 to about 150 people. Most didn't care for it. 
Some of the choice responses will no doubt make it here. Few final things: I 
used to run a BBS called green eggs 'n spam. I am somewhat recreating it at 
http://www.firecraker.com/users/neko/gens ... btw, I updated my home page for 
the first time in two months yesterday. http://www.firecraker.com/users/neko is 
that URL. Visit early, visit often.

Later...

John

Index
-----
01 ... Neko's welcome
02 ... Postscript to love
03 ... february 6th, 1996
04 ... Simply put -- porn
05 ... february 7th, 1996
06 ... Oods, Amateur Dream Interpreter
07 ... february 8th, 1996
08 ... The Descendents
09 ... february 9th, 1996
10 ... The internet is ruining my life
11 ... february 10th, 1996
12 ... The great flc mailbomb project
13 ... february 11, 1996
14 ... right now
15 ... february 12th, 1996
16 ... decay
17 ... february 13th, 1996
18 ... doubt ritual distortion
19 ... february 14th, 1996
20 ... endgame

Postscript to love
------------------

As I was showering the morning after writing flc 4, I realized I left out 
Theresa. Theresa was the girl I was talking about in flc 1. I don't think I 
really need to go into any further detail. Another girl I had a crush on, 
Kathleen, I didn't see after middle school. That is, until the end of December, 
1995. Then, I was in my city's local indie record store and she walked in. She 
was as pretty as I remembered her to be. Unfortunately, she had two guys with 
her. However, she smiled at me. We didn't say anything, just shared a smile. I 
went home that night and looked up her last name in the phone book. I called 
them all, asking for Kathleen at each one. Finally I found her -- she wasn't 
home though. So, I wrote her a letter saying how cool it was to see her and she 
should call me and yadda yadda yadda. Never heard anything. Then, on July 19th, 
I went to a show and saw her again. She was with two guys again (the same 
two?). This didn't stop her from throwing a smile my way again. I wonder if 
girls know the results of their actions and do it anyway. Last night, I was 
talking to this girl Lyn on the phone. She said that there was a brief time 
last week when she was between boyfriends. She called me, but I wasn't home. If 
she had asked, I wonder what I would've said. I mean, I call myself 
straight-edge and she is definitely at the opposite end of my ideological 
spectrum. Would I have said yes just to be able to say, "D00D!@! I have a 
girlfriend!@!@"? I honestly don't know. Nothing makes sense anymore, least of 
all love and friendship.

february 6th, 1996 -- 10:39pm
-----------------------------

i almost forgot to write. i denied the charges in court today. wonder how big 
of a news story it'll be tomorrow. Anyhoo, to no surprise (does that make 
sense?) i didn't give my letter to allison today. i will to talk to stacy as 
soon as i can get her alone. hopefully tomorrow.

Simply put -- porn
------------------

A few weeks ago, I received a catalog from a company called Voyages. Voyages is 
not the type of catalog you'd expect a 16 year old to receive unsolicited -- it 
is a porn catalog. I don't object to companies sending me these but I feel I 
must comment on it. First of all, on the cover, there is a price -- $10.00. Who 
in hell would pay $10 for a CATALOG? Second, third-infinity, of all, they have 
some really dumb stuff inside. Lets attack the 'department' titles first: 
Beaver Bust, Lesbo Sluts, Totally Tasteless Bitches, Sluts From Around The 
World, White Trash Sluts, Cheap Whores, Dirty Truck Stop Bitches, Chicks With 
Dicks (Dante -- "And you rented this?" Randal -- "Hey, I like to expand my 
horizons!"), and, to top it all off, they have a selection of videos called 
Deja Vu. Deja Vu has got to be one of the dumbest moneymaking ideas I have ever 
heard of in my life. There are 8 volumes listed here, ranging from titles such 
as Girl-Girl Pussy Passion to Ass Rimming Hunks to Endless Blow Job. The idea 
behind Deja Vu videos is to take "one down and dirty sex scene played over and 
over and over again". These videos all last for 60 minutes. The only positive 
thing I can see from these videos is that by not using the remote to rewind you 
have your hands free for ... other things. Just for fun, I think I'll list some 
of the more 'interesting' titles of the Voyages collection: Old Bitches, 
Knocked-Up Nymphos, Rollie Pollie Chicks, Grinding Grannies, Knocked Up & 
Nasty, Slip n' Slide Dildo Ride, Lactamania Vol. 3, Tailz From Da Hood, Black 
Ass White Gash Vol. 2, Transexual Blvd., Sluts in Suburbia, The Fat, the Bald &
the Ugly, Geriatric Park, Slammin' Granny in the Fanny, and, of course, John 
Waynt Bobbitt: Uncut. If, for some reason, this interests you, call 
415-626-5656.

february 7th, 1996 -- 10:16pm
-----------------------------

All i can think about is NOTHING! i want to see a fucking movie friday night! 
Maybe with a girl, too! that'd be eleet! there's more, i just don't know.

Oods, Amateur Dream Interpreter
-------------------------------

Date: Sat, 3 Aug 1996 13:26:17 -0400 (EDT)
From: oodles <oodles@pond.com>
Subject: Re: 
To: John Heisel <neko@firecraker.com>

how the hell do you get to travel so much?  if it has to do with your 
school, i'm signing up!  oh, dream interpretation.. shit uh, i forget the 
major parts of the dream now.  hrm.  i remmeber the water stood for 
fluidity, like between you two and your connection to each other.  the 
ride was the path of it between you two.  it was going from the floor to 
the ceiling, which was away from you.  but then you climbed up the 
stairs, the stairs meaning theres another route for you to get to her..  
then you actually did meet her before she went too far up the ride, which 
means you can still catch her.. she came with you and got off the ride.. 
then there was something about you getting to the dance? but it was too 
late.. maybe that means that it will seem like you have caught her after 
a long hard 'ride' <ha ha> but when you think everything is about to fall 
into place after your troubles they won't, becyase it might have just 
been a bit too late.  

okay so thats my interpretation, it could mean anythig though.  i didnt 
look in any books for real meanings to these things, i just went from 
experience and memory.. blah.

february 8th, 1996 -- 10:00pm
-----------------------------
i didn't see allison at all today. so, about 3 hours ago i called. she wasn't 
home, but a message was taken. no return call. is it rude to ask why? ruder 
than not calling? she had no obligation to, but it would be the considerate 
thing to do, right? i don't know anymore. i like allison but i don't like this. 
i argued with sara watts about whether or not evolution should be taught as 
opposed to creation. no winner, but that is the christian schtick i can't 
stand. it's not that i am smarter, more gifted, whatever, than my 
contemporaries, i just have a better understanding of reality. what matters. or 
so i thought. and yet i agonize over a phone call. i wonder what the incoming / 
outgoing call ratio is on my line. couldn't be any higher than 1:5. that makes 
me sad.

The Descendents
---------------

Joining my list of best all time bands are the Descendents. Ever since the 
first time I listened to my only Descendents CD _Two Things At Once_ (a 
combination of the Milo Goes To College LP and the Bonus Fat EP), I knew that 
they were a special band, lyrically. I saw parallels to my love life (or lack 
thereof) in the songs "Hope" and "Bikeage". These two songs are basically about 
a guy liking a girl a whole lot and her not returning the love, but instead 
getting fucked over by about a zillion other guys. The lyrics insist that the 
guy will be there for her no matter what and that someday she'll realize that. 
At the time when I bought this CD, there was a girl who I felt like that about. 
Later, more of the songs' lyrics grew on me. Every time I felt like I just 
wanted to escape what was going on, I would play "Catalina". "Catalina" tells 
the story of just getting fed up and leaving. The twist is that the lyricist's 
boat breaks down and he ends up stuck on Catalina. Not a bad place to be, I've 
often thought. Lately, the song "Parents" has really hit home. I'll quote the 
lyrics now, just because. (They were written by Frank Navetta and are copyright 
New Alliance Music 1986). Parents, why won't they shut up? / Parents they're so 
fucked up / They treat me like a tool / They take me for a fool / Parents ... / 
They're so fucking dense / They look into the past / For future reference / 
Parents ... / They don't even know I'm a boy / Just treat me like a toy / But 
litle do they know / One day I'll explode! / Parents ... . I *was* going to now 
write about how much my parents suck, but I just decided that it was probably 
just more random teenage angst, and when you're a teen, no matter who you are, 
your parents suck. Always. It has been written.

february 9th, 1996 -- 10:31pm
-----------------------------

i kinda snapped at allison this morning. she said hi or something, and i 
replied with a nasty what. i watched the smile leave her face. i did not like 
what happened. so, in second hour, i wrote a note. i hope i've got the balls to 
give it to her, i really do. people in gifted make me sick, but people not in 
gifted make me sicker. went and saw grumpier old men with tim and scott denowh. 
on the way out we were walking through younker's and i heard a female clerk say 
this to another female clerk "this is weird -- you me and (so-and-so other 
clerk) are all wearing the same bra! uh-huh. quiz bowl tomorrow. i wonder what 
that'll be like. basketball game tomorrow night. if allison is there i WILL 
give her the "second hour note". i hope.

The internet is ruining my life
-------------------------------

Assuming I had a life to begin with, the Internet is surely robbing it from me. 
It doesn't just *seem* like I spend all my time online, I really do. I haven't 
studied Russian in months -- why? I was online. I haven't prepared my room for 
departure -- why? I was online. I haven't done shit to advance my life -- why? 
I WAS ONLINE. The connectivity of email is great -- I am so much more open when 
I write words on the screen than when I am talking in person. irc is good too, 
in limited amounts. The only problem is that I sit on it all day and all night. 
I am depriving myself of sleep to "talk" to a group of people whom I have never 
met (for the most part) and (again, for the most part) will never meet. The 
worst part is that I can't stop. I try to go to sleep, but I am so worried that 
I will miss something, I can't tear my ass out of the computer chair. In a week 
or so, I will be moving into the basement. My dad said he will be taking the 
keyboard at night so I am not tempted to use the computer. Shit, I am already 
using it 24/7 as it is. Staying up all night in the basement when I should be 
asleep in my room. I really hope that I don't have any Internet access in 
Russia, because then I won't accomplish anything. I have already proven to 
myself many times over than prolonged exposure to the online world makes my 
school work stuff slide. If I have exposure to this world when I am supposed to 
be learning a foreign language and culture -- and all I do is speak English to 
people I've 'known' for quite some time -- I will get nowhere, fast. Hopefully, 
being deprived of the Internet for a year will 'cure' me and not make me binge 
when I come home. Where is help when you need it?

february 10th, 1996 -- 10:45pm
------------------------------

Quiz bowl tourney was ok. and i ripped off kentucky fried chicken. yay. 
apparently allison is going to winter formal with cameron - "just as friends". 
i don't see the point in doing that. especially if its just so you don't have 
to go stag. and of course, her date not being me, well, umm, that sucks. but 
thats what happens when you can't speak. her dad picked us up (i conned a ride 
out of her - yay.) anyway, her dad seemed pretty cool, and his car roolz. and i 
need a fucking modem so i can call mogel's board. i need to set something up 
for allthe other people who aren't going to the dance. or maybe just for me and 
someone else.

The great flc mailbomb project
------------------------------

Before releasing flc 4, I was bored enough to look through a bunch of magazines 
and newspapers, procuring published email address as I went. Once I released 
flc 4, I sent it out to about 150 people whose addresses I got this way. I also 
sent them all a notice telling them how I got their addresses. Most of the 
responses I've gotten were requests to be removed from the mailing list. Some, 
as you shall soon see, were more creative than others. One guy went so far as 
to copy the issue back to me 4 times, asking 'how I liked it'. Two or three new 
people did sign up, though, so *that* is good. Here are the 'best' of the best 
unsubscribe messages.

Date: Fri, 2 Aug 1996 21:47:47 -0400
From: DaveCr@aol.com
To: neko@firecraker.com
Subject: Re: funky llama club - KEEP THIS SHIT OUT OF MY MAIL BOX

HEY DICKHEAD!!

KEEP THIS CRAP OUT OF MY MAILBOX.

From: hapgood@pobox.com (Fred Hapgood)
To: John Heisel <neko@firecraker.com>
Subject: Re: werd 2 yr mom
Date: Mon, 05 Aug 1996 05:17:10 GMT
References: <1.5.4.16.19960804151333.1ba790c6@email.firecraker.com>


>You've all had a good day or so to look over flc #4. So, what did you think?
>Would you like to receive the back issues? Would you like me to add you to
>the main mailing list to get future issues?
>----

I hate to be the one to break it to you, John, but what you did was
spamming, and it is not the way to get your projects a fair hearing.

When  person puts his or her email address on the bottom of a paper
text  the intention is exactly the same as publishing the same
information in  the header of a USENET message.  It's there as a
convenience to readers who want to discuss the subject at hand.
Neither is intended as a 'spam me' sign to the world in general. 

Also you should learn how to use the blind CC: command.

Fred

--
www.pobox.com/~hapgood
world.std.com/~fhapgood

Date: Mon, 5 Aug 1996 11:13:15 -0400
From: LeveyCPA@aol.com
To: neko@firecraker.com
Subject: Re: werd 2 yr mom

delete me from your mailing list.	I find your type of intrusion to be most
annoying.  Just because my name is "public knowledge" does not give you the
right to call or send me stuff you think is important. It is types like you
that will kill this form of communication.

february 11th, 1996 -- 9:13pm
-----------------------------

why can't i do what i want to? somewhere along the line it seems that fear has 
been attached to pleasure. i am afraid of what the outcome may turn out to be. 
tim was at sonia's today. apparently she was making out with someone, so he 
called me. and i talked to sonia. she said she would like to keep in touch. 
what has changed over 6 months that would make her think that? i think i've 
been lost in the shuffle.

right now (11-21-95)
--------------------

so. the spirit has moved me once again. i had a feeling in my stomach telling me
to sit down and write. so we will now witness the results. will i write
something personal or will i write an odd story.

lately.
fade to black.
ideas have come and gone.
the thought process has been in overdrive.
but where is it going.
my life.
is it endless monotony.
no.
it just seems like it to me.
someone out there would, and will, die to live my life.
scary.
i wake up every morning, after 6 or 7 hours of sleep at 5:30 or so.
i deliver my papers.
sometimes i eat breakfast.
then i shower.
and get dressed.
and get 'ready' to greet the day.
on most days, i am quickly driving to school.
i look toward school with contempt.
an institution that could be something if it tried.
the same line it has fed to us a hundred times over.
once i'm at school, my life ends for six hours.
or is it seven.
something like that.
before, during, and immediately following school.
the drone.
endless.
people who are doing things.
with no thought as to why.
what they are doing.
why they are doing it.
where they're going.
just happily and ignorantly cruising by.
i strike up a conversation now and again but it doesn't go anywhere.
in my opinion, no one
(or at least no one i have the pleasure of speaking with regularly)
approaches things in quite the same way i do.
this makes it hard to communicate and converse.
but i do my best.
or i try to.
but i fail just like those who don't try.
the same people who don't try also strike it rich elsewhere.
socially.
is that what i want.
looking at these people, i would say no.
but my subconcious nags me.
tells me otherwise.
solace is a hard commodity to come by at school.
playing music is great.
and the people are great, for the most part.
hell, not even most.
very few actually.
but in music, the people either don't bother me, or i don't let them.
and then i partake in a foreign language.
what a joke.
someone refused to take a test just because it was given in the foreign
language.
what a joke.
then i go back in time.
it doesn't work, though.
hard as the teacher tries, the students always seem to quash his aspirations.
why don't i stand up and say something.
where is this courage that i've been told i have.
next i have to go and complete some form of physical education.
the education happens next to never, and the physicality is debatable.
today i was called a bitch and was told i was going to get my motherfucking ass
kicked because i told this girl that we weren't playing volleyball, but chaos
volleyball.
and all this in front of a gym teacher.
who stood helplessly the entire time.
but i don't let it bother me.
then science comes to me in the form of chemistry.
the class is usually easy to me, which upsets many of my classmates.
apparently i don't give them the chance to respond.
maybe if they'd pay attention and work rather than wasting time talking they'd
feel differently.
maybe not.
oh and then lunch.
hell of hells.
there is nowhere for me to go.
nowhere i can concretely fit in.
this wouldn't be so bad if i had something to do.
but, as luck would have it, i usually don't.
so i half pay attention, half stay in a somewhat dreamy state thinking of how
much better things could be if they weren't this way.
but what is this way.
then my math class.
why is it so hard for me to grasp when it's important.
and then english.
but the teacher seems to think it's psychology, philosophy, anything other than
literature.
although today she said she'd like to teach literature all the time.
who knows.
people are too afraid to break the rules.
then i go home.
where my neighbor constantly impedes upon my life.
but that's ok.
i don't find myself minding anymore.
i probably owe him anyway.
if he is happy this way, then i am happy, and happy for him.
then i just lounge around.
and wait.
hover.
over the phone.
but it doesn't matter.
i can't make it ring.
so i play music.
and wait some more.
still.
nothing.
solace in the music.
another human's voice.
even if it's one i'll never hear in person.
how did i come to be alienated.
was it by a series of choices i made.
or did other people see fit to make them for me.
who am i.
what am i.
where am i.
where am i going.
where have i been.
if people don't call me, i'll call them.
no problem there.
sometimes we talk for a few minutes, other times for hours.
somehow, it's all ok.
neither amount of time is better than the other.
there are so few people.
who even try to understand.
try to humor me.
maybe some have cracked through the shell.
maybe some think they have.
but where are they.
and why aren't they here.
what in the world happened to you, sang the offspring.
the water is so fucking hot, sing jane's addiction right now on my cd player.
what does it all mean.
not a damned thing, most likely.
are our lives pre destined, determined, and the like.
would it matter if they were.
thinking that will get you nowhere.
fast.
thinking gets you nowhere.
faster.
ignorance seems to be society's main quality today.
fastest.
so what am i doing.
what are you doing.
what is he doing.
and what about her.
don't forget them.
what don't i have.
where is honesty.
the best policy.
people should think about enacting it more often.
especially when it's necessarry.
kudos.
last week i talked for a few minutes with people i hadn't talked to in months.
about nothing in particular.
but still, hearing their voices again was great.
almost made me miss them.
and the society we had.
does anyone have ideals anymore.
where are they.
warped.
and as forrest gump said, that is all i have to say about that.

february 13th, 1996 -- 10:07pm
------------------------------

i gave allison my second-hour note today. hopefully she will have some 
noticeable reaction to it - i honestly don't know if i can ask her about it. 
but not asking about it would be like lieing. denying its existence. it doesn't 
seem very hard for me to do that, though. on another note, i asked for the 
modem back today. they're going to think about it. and on a sad note, mike 
kost's mom died over the weekend.

decay (11-28-95)
----------------

i just looked at old stuff. old issues of dto. ha. imagine that. they're only
three months old, and already i've labeled them old issues. man. i had some
fucking ideas, too. and i came downstairs to my computer to expound upon them.
but i forgot what i wanted to say. oh well. such is life.

i've had a lot of free time since i took my bbs down and lost my modem due to
extenuating circumstances. i haven't used this newfound free time for anything
useful, however. nothing has incensed or inspired me enough to really get down
and dirty and write about it. so maybe i'll just go on and on about life. my
life, in particular. after all, i have the most experience with it.

my name is john. john heisel. you may hear that name in the future if i am
arrested. you see, i ran a bbs. green eggs 'n spam, it was called. then, on the
first day of my sophmore year at auburn high school, the bubble bursted. i was
interrogated by the rockford police in regard to various computer crimes. i am
not going to waste my time and yours going on about what happened, but, needless
to say, my parents saw fit to take my modem. well, actually it was their modem,
after all they bought it.

the cops told me not to tell anyone at school what happened. yeah fucking right.
they pull me out of class on the first day of school and expect no one to ask
why. yeah fucking right. so the word got out. whoop dee do. i don't know how it
has changed people's opinion about me, and, frankly, i couldn't care less. so
that's how my year started out.

i tried looking at the brighter side of this, i wouldn't be distracted by my
modem all the time. i would have more time to spend with my friends. i would
have more time to be. but nothing has worked out.

at first, i was glad to be rid of the nuisance of my modem. but now i want it
back. it was my lifeblood. and i am incredibly sad to make that statement. i
made friends with this modem. friends who i can only really keep in contact with
over the modem. i want it back.

without a modem, i'd have more time to spend with my friends, right? nope.
i mean, i'm not one who is constantly out and about, and without a modem i
seemed to just mope around more. the day before i was interrogated, i was at a
local park for a final summer fling with my friends. it was dull, boring,
stupid, pointless, and inane, as almost all gatherings with these people are but
the difference this time was that i noticed it. and i didn't know what to do
about it. i started looking at my friends from a different perspective and only
a few stood out anymore as people. they rest melted into a nameless, shapeless
blur. of these few, i have attempted to solicit and solidify friendship with
them. i feel i have failed in all respects. except for one. one who i feel knows
what i know. feels what i feel. is what i am. in some respects, not all. this
person realized what i now know long before i even began doubting it. i think
that this person waited for me. knowing i would join them, but not where and
when. but even this doesn't seem to be going quite as well as it could be. the
fear. fear of what, i'm not just sure, but i know that it's there. in everything
i do. sometimes i am so independent, other times i am quite dependent. makes no
sense. no rhyme or reason to this pattern.

so what's new, pussycat? not a damned thing, i'm somewhat less than proud to
report. all's quiet on the western front. and the northern. eastern. southern.
why should it be any different now than it was before. a case study into human
indecency. that's what i should call my life. i see things. things i can't
believe others don't see. or that they choose to ignore. i rationalize. i am the
normal one, they're all fucked up. but maybe the table is turned - they're
normal, and i'm so fucked up i refuse to admit it. rather than using this time
as an opportunity to pass go and collect two hundred dollars, i've been unable
to start my racecar.

what do i want. where will i find it. how will it come to me. those are
questions i ask myself. petty as it sounds, i think they things i want are
attention and recognition. isn't that why i became a hacker in the first place?
to finally be somebody. or maybe that's why i write. so when will i wake up and
find my petty dreams. sometime rather soon, i hope. but what if attention and
recognition aren't what i really want. i need hope. got to have it. it's very
elusive, though. people aren't willing to stretch the limits anymore, too afraid
they'll get in trouble. that's why my phone doesn't ring. why the bbs scene is
dieing; no one is willing to call long distance. the people won't protest what
they know is wrong because they're afraid of being arrested. or chastised. or
suspended. maybe this is my release. maybe this is my garbage. will i change
things. probably not. i don't think i'm ready to become the catalyst for change
i know i need to be. i am in my mind. anytime something is wrong - be it
something i said to someone and later determined might have hurt them, be it
something in society - i am much more apt to work through it in my mind, play
the scene out, give my apology, fight the power, whatever, and conclude that
it's all ok. well it's fucking not ok, ok? soap opera star turned singer michael
damian once sang, 'where do we go from here? which is the way that's clear?' and
that's where i am right now.

february 14th, 1996 -- 10:07pm
------------------------------

Happy VD! ha-ha. tim and i went to his church to help these little kids with 
computers. did that for, like, 5 minutes. the adults were totally yelling at 
the kids. i mean, abusive yelling. totally fucking scary. so we left and went 
to Mad City. i guess tim and i are going to sonia's on friday. we'll chill with 
elisha, while sonia fucks dan leslie. joy! and on saturday, plans seem to be 
shaping up to go see a movie with Paula. Take THAT, Winter Formal. 
Hardee-fucking-Har. <sticker of Bill the Cat sitting in front of a heart 
affixed here>

doubt ritual distortion (04-04-96)
----------------------------------

    i wake up drenched in sweat. the same nightmare that has kept me up for the
past five nights. i'm at school. it's not an odd occurrence, i go every day to
all of my classes. but this day is different. it starts out like any other but i
have the sense of something being wrong. i walk into the building, and it is the
quietest i have ever heard it in the morning. i figure i must just be earlier
than usual. then a bell rings. students file out of their classes, looking pale
and zombified. i walk over to some people i know.

    "hi, allison," i utter, hoping to start a conversation with the girl i have
a crush on. she says nothing back. that is extremely odd. she usually has
something to say to me. i think she likes me. i am dumbfounded. she didn't even
acknowledge my presence. i begin to follow her and then something eerie happens:
someone walks through me. i feel the strangest rush of energy as it happens.
it's like i can feel their thoughts.

    "i wonder if christine likes me...i mean, sure, she fucked me and all, but..
what if it's just a rouse? oh shit! we didn't use a condom...and we smoked a.."
and then it was gone, as quickly as it had come. i walk to the nearest corner
and sit down, for once content to be the observer.

    was i dead? i didn't remember dying. and if i was dead, what the hell was i
doing in school. then there was a series of bright colors. like an acid
flashback. odd, considering i'd never done drugs.

    the next thing i knew i was lying in my bed. my mother was shouting at my
sister and i was just ignoring it. listening to my music. becoming my music. i
felt my blood move to the rhythm presented on compact disc. the shouting
stopped. the two parties had consolidated and gone to sleep.

    i got out of bed and walked downstairs. i looked at the thermometer. it read
12 degrees farenheit. dressed only in hanes briefs, i opened the door and walked
outside. i saw trees sway in the heavy wind. i wasn't phased at all by the cold.
in fact, it seemed to be egging me on. daring me to go further.

    i started walking. all of a sudden, i was blind. thud. i was lying on the
ground. now i was floating in the air, looking at my battered body on the
ground. now i was back in the corner in school. the bell rang. i figured i
should go to class.

    i walked in late, for the first time ever. the teacher didn't say anything.
it was like i wasn't even there. i moved to sit in my assigned seat but it was
occupied by someone i'd never seen before in my life. i shouted. "hey!" no
response. no one even batted an eyelash. "hey! fuck you! stupid fucking
assholes!" still no reaction. i was worried. i ran out of the classroom.

    i ran down the stairs, jumping them three at a time. i moved as quickly as
possible to the parking lot. where the hell was my car? i knew where i parked it
and it wasn't there. just then my vision melted. the acid flashback again.

    i was in a room in an office building. there was a file cabinet in the
corner with the bottom drawer open and a file sitting out. i picked up the file.
it had, "mclunden, martin," written on it. my name. i opened it up. maybe it
would explain what was going on.

    at first i saw nothing. then the manila folder started to turn black and
feel more like a liquid. then my hands disappeared into the folder. the folder
dropped to the ground with a bang. afraid that someone had heard the noise and
would come find out what it was, i stepped onto the folder to be swallowed up by
the darkness. i don't remember falling.

    this is where i wake up. i get dressed and go to school. i walk into the
building, and it is the quietest i have ever heard it in the morning. i figure i
must just be earlier than usual. then a bell rings. students file out of their
classes, looking pale and zombified. i walk over to some people i know.

    "hi, allison," i utter, hoping to start a conversation with the girl i have
a crush on. she says nothing back. that is extremely odd...

february 15th, 1996 -- 10:14pm
------------------------------

allison told me she had a letter (later downgraded to a note) for me. i was 
excited. she couldn't find it and just gave up and told me what was in it. she 
didn't get my message...and she needed to tell me that? (well, why not? i 
wouldn't probably have the nerve to say it.) Maybe there was something else. 
probably just filler. at least she didn't say sorry. nothing was her fault, she 
shouldn't say sorry. i really don't like it when people apologize for things 
that aren't their fault.

endgame
-------

That's all folks. Once again, I have wasted my night away writing shite. One 
thing you aspiring fiction writers should know: MTV is sponsoring a writing 
contest. Grand prize is getting published and $5000 cash. Call 1-888-688-4688 
for more info. They said they'd send it out to me in two weeks. Well, 
approximately two weeks from today, I'll be hopping a plane to New York. Hope 
they get it here before then. You know the routine -- email me at 
neko@firecraker.com -- I cherish all messages.

(endfile: 3.47.40am 8/7/96)
