Copy Link
Add to Bookmark
Report
Angstmonster 18
Æ*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*Æ
* __ __ *
+ _____ ____ ____ ______/ |_____ ____ ___ ______/ |___________ +
* \__ \/ \ / __ \/ ___\ __\ \ _ \/ \/ ___\ __/__ \_ __ \ *
+ / __ \_ | \ /_/ >\__ \| | Y Y \<_> ) | \__ \| |\ ___/| | \/ +
* (____ /_| /___ /____ >|__|__|_| /___/__| /___ >|__| \__ \|__| *
+ \/ \/____/ \/ \/ \/ \/ \/ +
* 01.13.03 angstmonster issue 18 *
Æ*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*Æ
¡edited (poorly) by gir¡
<zhixel> angstmonster is dead like tupac
§+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++¡contents¡++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++§
+ +
+ Brief Words from gir +
+ Breasts and Why We Love Them ch33z-1t +
+ Dear 80158311J steak +
+ ANGRY IS THE OREGANO! +
+ Permanently Restless continued... alice +
+ Story of a Turd gir +
+ You are a NOBODY. YOU ARE NOT UNIQUE. Yes. YOU. the cyb3rmonk +
+ Sleep steak +
+ +
§+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++¡contents¡++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++§
<lydia`> what's angstmonster?
<lydia`> is that like in that ghostbusters movie
<lydia`> where all of new york city's angst
<lydia`> turned into a big sludge monster
<cstone> that was ghostbusters 2
<lydia`> yeah that one
<lydia`> it had an angstmosnter
---------------
: Brief Words :
: from gir :
---------------
Sometimes there are moments where creativity lapses and there is nothing. This
wasn't one of those times. See what happened was, I was visited by all
these horror film icons. You know, Jason from Friday the 13th, Freddy from
A Nightmare on Elm St, Michael Myers from Halloween, and even Pinhead from the
Hellraiser movies showed up. Normally, this would be a very cool opportunity
to get to know some interesting characters but due to an untimely grump attack
I wasn't in the mood for slasher icons. So when they arrived at my door step
I told them to leave.
When I saw they weren't leaving, I figured I'd ask what they wanted. Being
that only Freddy and Pinhead can talk (or at least make the effort to talk) it
was found that my soul was wanted. When I told them that my soul wasn't up
for grabs, both Freddy and Pinhead promptly left. Which left me with two mute
psycho killers on my porch and it was cold. (It probably wasn't the best idea
to let them in the house, so against me mum's wishes I left the door open so I
could continue to deal with the serial killers at my door)
At first, they just kind of stood there, Jason was breathing heavy and Michael
Myers shot me a blank stare. I told him to piss off because Halloween
Resurrection sucked really really bad, almost (if not worse than) Feardotcom.
"However, I will give you that the first two Halloweens were probably the best
slasher films I've ever seen. You should've kept Jamie Lee Curtis around for
your new movie. It could've been so much more."
I went on, telling him to work on things a little bit, maybe take another 20
years off and see how that goes.
And as they say, then there was one. My most favorite horror icon of all time,
Jason Vorhees was left on my porch.
"I guess you're so badass right because you got to sent to hell and then come
to find out, you're really just taken hostage by some military research lab
so they can find out if you are cooler than Wolverine! THEN, you're shipped
out into space and end up being turned into a part cyborg and landing on
another planet. Just explain one thing to me... How did you get out of hell?"
Just then, Jason Vorhees' head exploded. His puny brain could not handle such
a leap of logic that spans the most two recent sequels in his films.
Thus I rid myself of four horror film icons and was able to bring you a new
issue of angstmonster!
Now that I think about it, I wish more horror film triumphs resulted in tfiles.
-------------------
: Breasts and Why :
: We Love Them :
: by ch33z-1t :
-------------------
what is it about breasts that appeal to guys so much? I personally love the
things. I can't get enough of breasts. I have now come up with some reasons
why men may like breasts so much.
1. They look attractive.
2. They like what they are attached to.
3. You can grab them.
4. You can put them in your mouth.
5. The nipple.
I would like to now talk about the nipple. I find that the nipple is the best
part on a breast. If the nipple is out of place the whole breast can lose all
gloriousness. The nipple is best when not erect. When it is soft and squishy,
this is the best time to run your tongue over the nipple and bite on it. The
nipple also feels good if it is rubbed on different parts of the body. OK back
to the list.
6. They move when you smack them.
7. The aerola.
Now about the aerola. If the aerola is mishapen the whole breat is
unattractive again. The aerola give the breast some color and fades into the
color of the nipple. If there were no aereola then the nipple would look all
out of place. It would go from peachy flesh to dark nipple, that would look
hella weird. Imagine though if the nipple was the peachy flesh, that would
also look hella weird. Back once again to the list.
8. Cleavage.
9. Freckles/Birthmarks. (these are sexy as hell)
This last one isn't for everyone, and personally not for me. But some guys
probably like this fact about them.
10. You can change/alter them to make them the way you want them to look.
Well there you have it. The 10 reasons guys like breasts.
THIS IS A FACT, THERE ARE NO MORE REASONS!!!
------------------
: Dear 80158311J :
: by steak :
------------------
Dear 80158311J
Following your recent interview that you weren't informed about and therefore
didn't attend, and your review of folio that you spent weeks preparing and
proof reading to make sure it was the best possible piece of work you could
submit, I regret to inform you that you have not met the preselection
requirements for admission to: the Diploma of professional writing and editing
(72651) at RMIT.
You will therefore obviously not be offered a place, if perhaps you were
psychic like the rest of us and automatically knew when your interview date
was (even though we didn't send you a letter or make contact with you in any
way) then you might have faired better in the selection process.
You may be eligible for an offer from other courses, but unfortunately the time
that you were meant to use to get your selection papers for another course in
order, you already used up applying for this course (that you failed to even
start by the way) so now your fucked.
Competition for student entry into creative programs at RMIT is extremely high,
mainly because all the idiots who drop out of school apply for them and send in
perfect pieces of work that they wrote in year twelve that have been marked,
proof read multiple times and in some cases even completely re-written by a
teacher, so that when somebody (such as yourself) sends in an original piece,
it pales in comparison.
Please do not see your inability to gain a place at RMIT in this program in
2003 as any negative reflection on your talent or commitment, however you can
quite easily look upon this as a reflection of the lack of commitment we are
willing to show to actual people who have a passion for writing as apposed to
carbon copy yuppies who learnt all that they know straight out of a VCE English
textbook.
I hope that you can look upon this in the future and laugh, I know we will. And
please don't get upset about it or write to us with clever and witty pieces of
prose explaining your situation, you see we have a nice comfy office here, in
which we masturbate all day long to pirated copy's of child pornography DVD's
and we really couldn't care less that you are now going to spend the rest of
your days behind a counter working at McDonalds.
Yours Sincerely
[Illegible signature]
----------------
: ANGRY IS THE :
: OREGANO! :
----------------
<oregano2k> angry is the monster
<oregano2k> who lives in the fields
<oregano2k> for his day are devoid of dreams
<oregano2k> and his night are not darkened by a canopy
<oregano2k> angry is the monster
<oregano2k> who lives among the trees
<oregano2k> for his days are devoid of sunshine
<oregano2k> and his nights devoid of stars
<oregano2k> angry is the monster
<oregano2k> who lives under sea
<oregano2k> for his breath is cold sea water
<oregano2k> and his rest of constant swim
<oregano2k> angry is the monster
<oregano2k> angry are all monsters
NOW FOR A GERMAN LESSON FROM OREGANO!
<oregano2k> thanks, mavne
<oregano2k> that is the pluperfect of "to maven"
<oregano2k> ich mave du mavest, etc
<oregano2k> if gir were here
<oregano2k> he'd be doubled over
<oregano2k> laughing
<oregano2k> or Helmut Kohl
<oregano2k> prolly not Franz beckenbaur, I doubt his
sense of grammar humor
<oregano2k> Franz Liszt would refuse to even log on
<oregano2k> so there you go
<oregano2k> Gir is the anti-Franz Liszt
<oregano2k> put that in your little ezine, tough guy
THE "TRUTH" ABOUT OREGANO!?!
<sdanond> oh, if only oregano were here
<girbles> if only oregano was everywhere
<girbles> at once
<sdanond> hahah
<girbles> like some sort of transcending space/time being
<girbles> that'd be neat
<sdanond> he'd be like omnipresent and speaking in thousands of languages
<girbles> i think he's like that already
<girbles> he's just trying to not let on
<sdanond> ah, i see
<sdanond> i shall invent a new language, oreganese
<sdanond> its syntax transcends time
<girbles> you should write about it
<girbles> for um
<girbles> ANGSTMONSTER
<sdanond> haha
<girbles> but we can't tell him
<girbles> he might find out we're trying to learn his language
<girbles> and as punishment, he'll make us build a tower
<girbles> to HEAVEN!
<sdanond> haha
<sdanond> it'll be called Babble tower
<girbles> oreganese is the language of f*cking sh*t up
<lb> oreganese makes me think of lebanese
<girbles> it makes me think of oregano with oriental slit eyes
<sdanond> haha
-----------------------
: Permanently Restless :
: continued... :
: by alice :
-----------------------
-Wander-
With only two hundred dollars in her pocket and her daddy's fishing hat
on her head, she headed north to where the sun was warmer. After six
days and five nights, she found herself in Byron Bay. The park, which
butted up against the coast, was abandoned. In the center of the park
was a massive maze of tunnels and slides and bridges and swings. She
crawled inside a tube slide and fell instantly asleep.
The loud echo of rain falling on the roof of the slide violently woke
her from her slumber. She heard a rumble, assumed it was thunder, then
closed her eyes in irritation from being interrupted from her dreams of
exotic lands with exotic boys with exotically long hair.
Little did she know, her dream would come true.
-Storm-
She woke up again, and it was still raining. The sun was beginning to
rise though. She heard voices. She slid not so gracefully out of the
slide she slept in and plopped into a puddle of wet dirt. A small girl
with curly hair stood staring at her with large eyes.
"Allo" the girl said, with a worried frown on her lips. "Aren't you cold?"
Silence, caused by confusion of whereabouts, embraced the lone recluse
who slept in the playground.
"Come on!" The small girl squealed as she grabbed her new friend. "My
daddy'll be waiting for me. He'll make you some turtle soup"
"I don't eat turtles."
"Oh, don't worry! There aren't *real* turtles in the soup. It's mock
turtle soup! Haven't you heard of it?"
"Uh uh.." the older girl mumbled as she stumbled over a thick root as
the younger girl dragged her up a dirt and gravel path to the top of a hill.
-Evening-
A warm meal by a strong fire was inviting. She ate quickly the brown
broth and the homemade biscuits smothered in tupelo honey. She felt
rejuvenated and filled with warmth afterwards and finally she was aware
of her surroundings.
The small girl who had rescued her was named Ami. Her dad was Roux. Ami
had no brothers and no sisters. Roux found her wandering around the
fruit section of the market, munching on a peach. She was too young to
know where she was supposed to be. Roux never found her parents, and he
became quite fond of her. They've lived together for almost six years.
While Roux was brushing the tangles out of Ami's hair, he asked the
stranger her name. She didn't speak. She only stared into the dancing
fire and smiled.
"Well, if you don't have a name, we must give you one!"
Again, silence.
"We will call you 'Lita'."
The little girl with dark gypsy eyes exclaimed, "Lita! It's a perfect name!"
Roux kissed Ami on the top of her curly head and pushed her towards her
bedroom. The he walked over to Lita and held out his hand.
-Dance-
"Do you dance?"
Lita raised her eyes and met Roux's. She stood up, letting the blanket
fall from her shoulders. How could these two strangers be so welcoming
and trusting? She decided not to worry about it and concentrate on
dancing. She was a clumsy dancer.
They danced until the fire ran out of fuel. But where was the music
coming from? It seemed to be radiating from the walls. And it was
continuous. It must be in her head. But it sounded so real.
They slowed down and sat facing each other on the sofa. Lita finally spoke.
..to be continued
--------------
: Story of a :
: Turd :
: by gir :
--------------
(to the tune of "Absolutely" by Da Nine)
This is the story of a turd,
who clogged a toilet and flooded the bathroom,
and the way it smelled oh so bad,
I can't stand it
that fucking smell....
how many turds in a bowl?
i woke up with a butt full of poop
and I can stink up a bathroom
making really loud sounds
as long as someone stands their waiting
daring to sniff through the crack in the door
how does it smell now
when you know I've had chilli for dinner?
Your clothes never smell the same the next day
and people just stare at that brown stain
you never seem to run out of floods to blame...
This is the story of a turd,
who clogged a toilet and flooded the bathroom,
and the way it smelled oh so bad,
I can't stand it
that fucking smell....
How many people would stay?
Just to put up with this shit day after day
how did we wind up this way
watching our poop be buried in hay
as long as you stand there waiting
wearing the clothes of the soiled bathroom
how do we get clean today
when we're rolling around in the floor I pooped on?
Your clothes never smell the same the next day
and people just stare at that brown stain
you never seem to run out of foods to blame...
This is the story of a turd,
who clogged a toilet and flooded the bathroom,
and the way it smelled oh so bad,
I can't stand it
that fucking smell....
Your clothes never smell the same the next day
and people just stare at that brown stain
you never seem to run out of foods to blame...
This is the story of a turd
who clogged a toilet and flooded the bathroom,
and the way it smelled oh so bad,
that fucking smell....
This is the story of a turd
who's offspring diseased the world
and while it's out multiplying,
that fucking smell....
This is the story of a... turd
who clogged a toilet and flooded the bathroom
and the way it smelled oh so bad,
I can't stand it
that fucking smell...
that fucking smell...
----------------------
: You are a NOBODY :
: YOU ARE NOT UNIQUE :
: Yes. YOU. :
: by the cyb3rmonk :
----------------------
You are not unique. You are NOT special. You're not a individual. You are
the same organic matter, decomposing in the HEAP*. You are the same as
everyone else.
"No! I'm special and unique! I listen to the difference music and I wear
different clothing! ARG!" They say. First and for most, regardless of the
clothes you wear - it's just a fabric covering your ass. Despite the
different music you listen to - it's the same as rap or hip pop or
techno. It's still orchestrated noises to give your ears a spasm.
Underneath your clothing, you're the same breathing organic matter as
everyone else.
When people claim themselves to be individual, conflicts arise. Why do
you think racism exist? Because people perceive themselves as separate
specie, but the fact that they still remain inherit the same attributes.
Screw the KKK and their ignorance. Another example is the holy war.
Religions wage war because they can't settle their indifference. "I'm
right, you are WRONG" they say. Then we have ableism, solecism, fascism
etc.
What's even more ironic? Adolescents who dress in a certain way, listen
to a certain type of music, possess certain commodities. Basically
mimicking their cohort.
And they claim themselves to be a individual. Don't piss on my legs and
say it's raining*
Perhaps one day, these anaclitic juveniles will REALIZE that they are a
NO BODY.
You are not the clothes you wear.
You are not the content of your wallet.
Perhaps just for once, the juveniles can stop purchasing name brand
merchandise. It's beneficial in a personal scale. Think of how much money
can be save to invest in their college fund or purchase books. It's
economically favourable too! Stop buying Nike shoes equals to halt in
production of shoes in Bangladesh, where CHILDREN make a few dollars a
week. If the nation stops purchasing Nike merchandise for a week, it
would be like a swift kick to the genitals of filthy CEOs.
Buy my pants; it will make you cool like Eminem.
Buy my tank top; you'll look more sexy.
Buy my shoes; it will make you jump high like Michael Jordan.
Ignore the daily subliminal. Screw all the propagandas. Each time you see
a G.A.P commercial be prepare to pull the TV plug or close your eyes and
imagine a happy place.
Perhaps for the first time, they can stop giving a fuck about the
opinions their acquaintances made. Public opinion should be made, not
followed.
Remember: materials are used to fulfill your existence. The commodities
you brought won't make you a different person even after owning three
thousands dollars worth of name brand shoes.
By the end of this essay, you will blankly stare at the paper and ask
yourself: "What the fuck?" Or rub your chin and say "Hmm, very
insightful"
I really hope you learn something from this essay(pfft, more like a rant),
if not, you just wasted three minutes of your life. Oh well.
------------
: Sleep :
: by steak :
------------
Something I have been experiencing lately is the feeling of being tired of
going to sleep.
I know that sounds a little crazy, and to be honest I believe it is, but you
have to understand that my days seem to be passing by at some great speed, at a
velocity that I have no control over. Perhaps I should begin at the beginning.
I go to sleep by lying down and clearing my head of thought, as long as I am
in a comfortable position, am not lying on any of my body parts and I can clear
my mind of all thoughts I can usually get those alpha waves kicking within
about twenty minutes and finally drop off to sleep within the half hour.
This may seem all well and good but the thing is, this routine is something I
do every night, and I do it so much that it's getting boring. It's tedious
and I really am getting tired of it. I'll wake up around four or five in the
afternoon, get up, do all the things that my day requires. After I've done all
those things I'll suddenly find myself up around six in the morning typing,
reading or something, faced with this prospect of going to bed, but with a
strong desire not to.
I could be absolutely knackered, my back would be aching, my mussels would be
killing, my stomach would be churning. All aspects of that cruel feeling you
get called fatigue, but no matter how much pain I am going through I just will
not want to go to bed. I'll see it as a waste of time, a distraction when
there are so many other interesting things I could be doing.
Sleep is starting to become a necessary evil, something I don't want to do but
something that my body forces me into every twelve hours. It's like my body is
saying "haha I'm not going to let you continue doing what you want to do, I'm
going to force you to fall unconscious for the next twelve hours". My body
just doesn't see sleep the way I do, as an unwanted activity that puts me off
my writing and interrupts my train of thought. I really wish it did sometimes.
Personally I don't really see what my body's fixation with sleep is, it's
not that great is it? I mean you spend the first half hour forcing yourself not
to think, trying your hardest to snooze, but when you do finally nod off you
are thrown into the strange, peculiar, mysterious and very often just downright
frightening world of your sub-conscious. You see that's not something I really
enjoy, it's a dangerous place inside my mind, there are lots of things that
want to kill me, hurt me or just turn me into some big pink fluffy monster, and
as you can probably image I am quite against that happening.
To make matters even worse, when I get up I feel like shit, my mouth is dry,
there's a disgusting taste in it, there's strange yellow shit in my eyes, I
feel generally dilapidated and a little down. In fact I actually feel worse
after I get up than when I go to bed. That doesn't seem right.
And of course all that is assuming I can resist the relatively enormous
temptation to turn over and go back to sleep, and that's a temptation that is
not easy to resit. Though I manage, almost on a daily basis.
When I explain sleep like this I hope it makes you realise why I don't want to
do it very often. But it's something that I have to put up with and something
that I have to do or else my body gives up on me and shrivels up into some
vague, hallucinogenic, jabbering version of what was there before.
Did you ever here about that DJ? Tripp I think his name was, he went without
sleep for a week or something, all in the name of charity. He experienced
hallucinations worse than any LSD tab laced with rat poison mixed with
mushrooms. That's the sort of thing I'm talking about.
But even though I know that if I don't sleep I'll turn into a scared little
monkey, I try to put the thing off as long as possible by drinking cups of
coffee, listening to loud music and flooding my vision with bright lights.
They are good and they work and stuff, they help me procrastinate and avoid the
unconsciousness. But all the while I know that I am working on borrowed time
and I'm going to have to make up for it when I finally give in and crash out on
my bed, unable to hold my eyes open any longer.
Damn sleep.
TAKE US HOME #ACROMP3...
Quarex/#aCRoMP3 rocks out with, predictably, his cock out.
<girbles> how else can someone rock out?
<Quarex> Exactly.
<lydia`> what if they're a girl
<girbles> shouldn't matter
<lydia`> haha
<girbles> if a girls gonna rock
<Quarex> Better find a cock.
ææææææææææææææææææa
æ Æfterthought(s) æ
æææææææææææææææææææ
Sourpatch kids are the best candy ever.
Thus, I conclude this file by saying that someone should make sourangstmonsters
that not only include little candy shaped angstmonsters, but candies shaped
like all the regular writers.
And you see, oh faithful reader, when this candy takes off and becomes really
popular, you will have wished you took the time to become a writer for
angstmonster so that you might sue us for using your likeness without your
permission.
It's the perfect setup...
_____
/ |\ |\ /\ |\ |
\ | | |/ |/ < > |/ | *
/ |_| | | \/ |\ | *
http://www.bubblemonkey.org/cheesencrackers/ !CHEESENCRACKERS!
http://members.optushome.com.au/steak/addendum/ ¿ADDENDUM¿
http://www.neo-comintern.com *THE NEO-COMINTERN*
http://turd.angstmonster.org THE UNDEAD RISE, DAMMIT!
http://www.textscene.com CURRENT TEXTFILE SCENE
?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?
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. 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...
copy-p00p 2003 issue 18
angstmonster.org 01.13.03
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
part of this document is prohibited. All rights reserved. (and stuff)
