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Angstmonster 04
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* 8.04.02 angstmonster issue 4 *
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¡written and edited (poorly) by gir¡
Making My Own Scrambled Eggs!
¡contents¡
So Spoke The Opinionated
An Interview With Someone You've Never Heard Of
Privacy and Some Other Silly Thoughts
Go Home Happy
################
# So Spoke The #
# Opinionated #
################
For all the lovers who have sense become addicted to mindless dribble, hear
what others are saying about issue number 3...
"Your little text mag is waaay too indie for me."
-mr. jay.
"Man what a stupid piece of stupid and stuff that was, it really was!! Oh wow
I mean at first it seemed like you were trying to sound dumb but then I
realized you are that poor a writer!! You should stop writing tfiles because
you suck at it. Don't ever think you know what you are talking about ever
again. By the way, I really enjoyed the other issues. Keep up the good work!"
-slurpy puppy.
"SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK!
SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK!
SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK!
SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK!
SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK!
SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK!
SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK!
SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK!
STOP WRITING TFILES! BAD BAD BAD BAD NO NO NO!
SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK!
SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK!
SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK!
SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK!
SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK!
SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK!
LEARN TO USE THE DELETE BUTTON! PLEASE, SAVE SOME FACE NEXT TIME!!!
SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK!
SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK!
SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK!
SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK!
SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK!
SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK!
I'M GOING TO KILL YOU NOW!!!!"
-devpretend.
"Mew Mow, meow meow mew mo, meow meow. MEOW! MEOW! MEOW! Meww Meow! Meowow!"
(Translates to: "Ever since my fucking hippie of a master read your last issue
he's been buying us the best tuna he can afford! Much thanks!)
-mew mew.
################
# An Interview #
# With Someone #
# You've Never #
# Heard Of #
################
I never thought I'd find myself sitting by a makeshift fire pit outside of what
seems to be the most famous cave for miles. Gathered with a cave wall painter
and his life long pal and translator, I was very excited to learn from the
source how cave painting (the greatgrandfather of modern communication) came
about.
(Interview notes: g denotes gir, cp denotes cave painter, and t denotes
translator.)
g: So Mr. Cave Painting guy, I'm not sure where to begin. Let me thank you for
what you've done for society and especially for taking the time to let me talk
to you.
(The translator begins to scribble down a few pictures, crude symbols I couldn't
begin to understand and a few moments later the cave painter looks at me and
smiles a wide, nearly toothless, grin. To answer my opening statement he
begins to draw in a patch of dirt by the fire ring. When he runs out of room,
he simply stands up and moves his chair back so that he might complete his
thought.)
t: He thanks you for your enthusiasm concerning his accomplishments but wants
you to know (as well as the rest of the world) that he wasn't the ONE to come
up with cave paintings. Like most things throughout what has become your
history, it was a group of curious cave dwellers who formed the idea of
painting. It started with an accident, when someone began to fling food in
disagreement. When the argument was finished many meals later, the food that
had stuck to the wall took odd shapes, like the clouds or stars. And many came
to this cave to speculate and contemplate what the shapes were and were not.
By way of another accident, someone discovered that moving the shapes on the
wall began to create other shapes and more things to contemplate. And each
time, when the owner of the cave was done contemplating, he'd shift around the
items. Of course this presented a problem for the people who came to his cave.
Because not everyone thought at the same moment the same thoughts and others
began to go home and put food on their walls and contemplate their own shapes.
It wasn't about who did what at first, just that it was something new to think
about and that regardless of who moved the shapes, they still remained and made
us contemplate them.
g: So if you weren't the originator of the idea why do you get credited for the
discover and development of it? Also, how did your experiments begin to
influence other artistic movements of the time?
(Midway through my question, the cave painter stands up and heads into his
cave. Puzzled by this, the translator calls out and tells me that he is simply
going to get a few things to better explain. While the cave painter is busy in
his cave, the translator begins to draw out a little tale of his own based off
on today's events.)
g: Did he teach you that?
(In order to explain himself, he hurries the figures he was drawing in the dirt
so he might have notes to follow in explaining all the details to me. At this
time, the cave painter is still inside shuffling around for things.)
t: Let me ask you something? The sounds that come out of your mouth, do you
ever consider them and where they came from? Or who taught you that? And then
who taught them? Where did that come from? It's no doubt that sounds are the
first creation of our communicating. It's just that depicting sound and
thought with pictures is different. To scribble on the ground like I do, well
it was being done before the food fights. But no one saw it as shapes to think
over. It was just a language we had taken for granted until someone came along
and made us think about what we were saying and depicting. When cave painters
began, their creations weren't so crude. Many began to mimic the written
culture of dirt and sand. At the time, anyone who knew the language well was
very much admired. People like me, it was only natural for us to become
translators because we had a lot of our kind wanting to be taught these symbols
and be able to master them in order to translate it all into cave pictures.
Part of what we taught, was the mystery between the translation. Even in your
world, no one can describe or explain why translation between two languages
works. During the birth of the artist, no one considered the why of it, all
were eager to make out of things around them another thing to ponder at. What
had been a gift of mine for ages, become something that was copied and forged,
mocked and studied in cave paintings. Of course during those times other
things came about.
(The cave painter at this time returns from out of his cave with rolled up
material of some sort. He puzzles at the story the translator has written in
the dirt but doesn't think too much of it as he interrupts us with his find.)
t: These are some of the oldest "paintings" in the world. When our artists
wanted to show those in other camps what they had done, taking it with them was
very important. Stubborn as ever, people wouldn't understand yet what was
special about traveling the far reaches of existence to speculate and ponder.
There were more pressing issues at the time. Survival was a primary importance
for us. Most people didn't see the point in thinking about otherwise. Some
who traveled weren't accepted.
(He is handed one of the unraveled things which appears to be more stories
painted onto animal hide. He nods at the story as it explains in more detail
what he was telling me.)
t: The brother of the cave painter was mightier with the crude brush then
anyone we'd ever seen. He also was very eager to share his and others' ideas
through traveling. However many did not understand and weren't ready for what
he had to say. When he hadn't returned for months, a small party was sent out
to look for him. They followed a path he took down the river a few camps
removed from ours. His paintings had been found to have started many a new
idea in some camps while others refused to mention any of it. Elders in the
final camp he was seen in just laughed at the "boy who bled on animal skin."
In their cave was one of his paintings that had been traced over with his own
blood. In a rage the cave painter declared war on this camp as they had killed
a peaceful boy. At the time, killing the innocent was a crime against humanity
and was punished. The remaining members of the camp were absorbed into other
camps and the pictures reclaimed, memorials made. It was that time that the
cave painter started painting full time, abandoning any other duties in the
name of a fallen brother. Having come under fire for neglecting some duties,
much debate came about. The end result was an understanding of the power art
had. It was in these times that the spirit of art and creativity was born
under a new generation. With art, the future had all it needed to breath sighs
of relief.
(In awe as I am passed the blood stained hide, I want to ask no more questions
but sit and here these tale transcribed. And I realize now that my time is
growing short with these two men.)
g: I'd like to thank the both of you for your time. Although we did not cover
nearly as much as I would have liked to, what was said I shall take back with
me.
(As the translator explains what I have said the cave painter smiles another
one of his toothless grins and begins to speak.)
cp: What you have us reminded of, too means many thanks. The strength of a
young spirit will keep our traditions for a long time very alive.
t: In addition, we hope that you can take some of our ideas back to the world
you now place yourself in, the electronic caves and surreal existence of plains
that you might find yourself a common part of. Remember all that we might have
taught you and be wary of those who choose war as a creative endeavor.
(I thank them for their patience with me and before both disappear into the
cave, I am handed copies of hide with a scroll of today events and some crude
drawing tools of my own. As with any gift, this is something to be cherished
and reserved for the most important moments. I hide them away for safekeeping
and start my journey home.)
##################
# Privacy and #
# Some Other #
# Silly Thoughts #
##################
A dull screen is a promise that no matter what anyone tells you otherwise, that
data is safe with me. I know that it may feel threatening and intruding to
have so many of your secrets discarded across someone else's lines but why do
you take the time to think about it? And if why, then how often is it worth
thinking about? It's not something you can control even if you wanted to.
Chances that someone is watching for your information or slim, but it doesn't
mean it won't be found. There exist in the wild collectors of information.
Sorts who pedal anything and everything they might stumble upon casually. But
that's not always the case. Sometimes it's not an intentional spyware thing,
but just that someone accidentlly saves his password at the wrong prompt and
there's access to his email. In the config files for some programs, passwords
can be stored in clear text. So if someone isn't actively snooping through
someone else's life, he may still be able to collect a great deal of
information. Unfortunately, those that we trust the most will be the first to
betray this information. For whatever justifiable reason, normal people, our
close friends and family members can turn into monsters who consume all the
forbidden knowledge about us that they can. Some blame curiosity and think
it's ok, just a way to keep the person in question in check. In the mind of a
loved one, we're all perfect and wouldn't do anything that might disturb them,
but that isn't enough to keep this passwords and privileged accseses forgotten
and hidden.
Instead there's an increase in pulse and a feeling that's unknown... seeking
the forbidden things of someone else and up until the split second before you
know the "truth" as it was, things are great... Then there's the truth.
There's a reality caught up inside of all the poking around and snooping done.
But even if it's disagreeable and ugly, it's the truth and therefore worth it.
In fact, it's so much worth it, that it'll happen again. So what if the truth
makes you sick to your stomach or overwhelms you with misunderstanding. That
step into a controlled environment in which you have no control....
Mindless dribble perchance, but we're reading the forbidden and hidden as it is
to someone else. Of course, we don't "know" the "truth," we only read it. And
in that, the truth has many layers to consider and things to wonder about. But
it's the truth, what we've found! The fucking truth! Let's investigate! Even
if we don't know how to, it doesn't matter. Once something is found, it's
enough of a reason for us! The hunt, yes the hunt! It's an important hunt we
are on! Seeking more of this truth thing we stumbled on without the permission
of somebody who truthfully trusted us. But wait, if we can not hold up to
those expectations of truth, why should the other person? As you consider the
facts of what truth is, the realization hits us all that maybe we aren't the
only truth seekers and that most of our privacy has been compromised in the
name pf truth! But those sick perverts! That was my private life, the comfort
of a private life is why I use technology at all! No one to gaze upon all the
secrets I'd prefer not to have viewed. But, what now!?! How should I continue
on? I'll seek the truth of course. I'm sure someone has it out there in his
private collection and just doesn't want to share. Everyone's so greedy
lately. No one wants to share, it's like we can't trust our own friends
anymore...
###########
# Go Home #
# Happy #
###########
Eric, your little friends are here... Are you ready? Coming to a theater near
you... Are you ready? from the people that brought you... Sifl and Olly, the
Sifl and Olly... TACO TACO TACO TACO TACO TACO TACO... the only brand with a
microchip... looking for a little variety in your diet... the decade old
event... fresh from the kitchen at... air strikes continued today in
Afghanistan... and i helped... don't be afraid... besides you need people of
intelligence... but that's not enough... wanna know who really killed JFK...
just here me out... see participating stores for details... (he told me you
killed him!) Shut Up and Reboot! Shut Up and Reboot! Shut Up and Reboot!
Shut Up and Reboot! Shut Up and Reboot! Shut Up and Reboot! Shut Up and
Reboot! Shut Up and Reboot!
Afterthought: I might stop doing this already... It just comes and goes. And
it seems to have gone far away into the land of "ow my brain hurts."
¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?
What you have just read was a step into the unknown spontaneous and poorly
edited thoughts for sharing collectively known as "Angstmonster." All thoughts
on the matter can be sent to <gir@angstmonster.org> or you can just visit the
site http://www.angstmonster.org and see what you think. (But I won't promise
any content to anyone.) Submissions of all sorts are welcome! Everything from
prose and poetry to rants and opinions, creative text art, recipes for yummy
food, reviews of stuff, etc.
Thanks and enjoy your day...
copyright 2002 issue 4
angstmonster.org 8.04.02
Feel free to redistribute this document, although no fee can be charged and the
content must not be altered or modified in any way. Unauthorized use of any
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