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The Eternity Articles Act 1 Scene 03
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/ The Eternity Articles /
/ /
/ Act I, Scene iii -- May 1995 /
/_________________________________________________/
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\ Who am I?: Sanjay Singh \
\ eternity@cyberspace.org \
\_________________________________________________\
"The impulse to perfection cannot exist where the
definition of perfection is the arbitrary decision of
authority. That which is born in loneliness and from the
heart cannot be defended against the judgment of a
committee of sycophants. The volatile essences which
make literature cannot survive the cliches of a long
series of story conferences." [Raymond Chandler]
What possessed me to make duality a topic? I have finals to
write, and a job to hunt for, but still I pick the tallest mountain
to climb. Why me? I think I'll just stretch this out to choices
and decisions. It may be a little more general, but at least now
I have a fighting chance of getting more than 3 pages out to you.
By the way, that little arrow thing up there has to go, so if
anyone has a better header for this, feel free to let me know.
(that wasn't supposed to rhyme, it just worked out that way)
"I guess I'm just sick of waiting for the world to change
for me, that's more or less what my life's been up until
now. That's just not going to happen, so I've decided to
change it myself. Hope it works." [me]
Finally, in the past two weeks five people have subscribed,
and I thank all five of them for giving me a chance, and reading
what I have to say, but it also seems like no one has actually read
this yet. Don't get me wrong, I'm flattered, and grateful, but you
wouldn't buy a car that you haven't seen, hell, you wouldn't even
subscribe to a magazine that you've never read just because of a
little paragraph describing what it is. Who knows, that paragraph
description I wrote for John Labovitz's list could be the best
thing that I ever wrote, or will write. I don't want to lose any
of the few readers that I might have, but there's no point in me
mailing this to you every month if it just gets deleted once you
read the first paragraph. Maybe that's what this entire zine is
about. Maybe the only thing I really have to say is that 'you can
do whatever you want to', 'you can believe what you want to', 'you
don't need a god, you don't need a king, you don't need a
politician to tell you what to do, because you can decide for
yourself.' All I know is that everyone out there is trying to
secure a future for our generation, most people take the easy way
out and try to save the planet, personally, I'd rather save the
people. Don't worry, I hate messages, and the last thing that I'd
want to do is to beat someone over the head with one (which
actually I'm doing here) for the most part this was done as a
strange form of catharsis for me, a chance to unload the last of my
baggage on the rest of the world.
I'll get off my soapbox now, and wait and see what happens.
Sucker beware, buyer be warned. I think I just realized exactly
what Eric Bogosian was saying in his speech at the end of Talk
Radio, and it's kind of a scary thought (if you don't know the
speech you can find it in the quote list, better yet, watch the
movie). For the record: I'm not trying to bite the hand that
feeds me, I just want to know where it's been.
The Greatest Dualist Of Them All...
===================================
"The first fall was from non-duality into duality. Up
and down. This and that. The subjective and the
objective. Good and Evil. Order and Chaos." [Grant
Morrison]
Hi, my name is Sanjay and I'd like to take a moment to tell
you a little bit about myself... If anyone's still reading this,
then we can start getting to the good stuff.
I've realized that over the past couple of years, that I am
not just myself. We all have more than one side to our
personalities, but I think with me it goes a little further. You
might have noticed how I jump from topic to topic, and fairly often
I contradict myself almost immediately. So am I a hypocrite? I
don't think so. I'm going to blame this on my two personalities.
And I thought that I'd take a moment to introduce you to my two
halves... (I'm assuming that for now, at least, it's only two)
"I'm very vulnerable, but only when I really let people
get near me. I build up a big defence. It happens
automatically. I can be very over-emotional and that can
be a very destructive trait in me." [Freddie Mercury]
The "real" me: sensitive, emotional, curious, creative,
loyal, paranoid and pensive. This is the me that my friends see.
Probably because once they see the other side, they're not my
friends for much longer. This is who I want to be, this is the guy
that never turned down a friend when he was asked for a favour.
This is who I am when I start to write, but once I get on a roll,
and the blood starts flowing from my fingers to the keyboard, then
the dark side takes over.
"Slowly it seeps from my severed veins. / Its passing
leaving my body a cold, darkened shell. / My essence, my
being trapped within its liquid form. / Silently it
expands, enveloping the gleaming tiles. // You reel from
the horror, yet you are drawn closer. / Your trembling
flesh touches its red warmth. / A chill quickly comes and
clings to your soul. / Its life trickles over your
lips... your teeth... it fills you. / And a smile
overtakes you... and claims you as its own." [???]
My "dark side": uncaring, cold, calculative, manipulative,
competitive, untrusting, vindictive and reflexive. This is the
side of me that I fight to keep down a lot of the time. Personally
I don't like this person. When I see this face staring back at me
in the mirror, I just want to spit at the reflection. This is the
guy who wades through people as if they were obstacles. This is
the guy that when he gets pushed, pushes back with all of the force
in his body, and damn the consequences. This is what happens to me
at parties and at bars, I just stand there watching the people.
Snarling, looking down at them. I have no idea why, that's just
the way it works (oh, and always with my back to a wall). This is
what growing up bitter and cynical has caused. Now if I could only
learn how to keep him under control.
I want everyone to be happy, I want a future, I'm stupid
enough to believe that there is some glimmer of hope for humanity.
But then I sit there, on the roof of my shed, staring out at the
cars driving past the house and realize that we can't be happy.
There is no future. I'm still stupid, but there's no hope at all.
Why don't I just give up? What's the point in carrying on?
I've had my ups, and this is living proof that I've had my
downs. I've felt euphoria, and I've felt pain. I can sit here all
day and curse the darkness within, but the problem is that I need
it. Through the dark half, I've lived. The problem is that it's
also killed me.
I suppose that all that's left to say is to clarify this real
me / dark side thing. I could have called them what I do call
them, but the names are actually irrelevant, and besides they're
part of some larger inside joke, which I don't think anyone else
would get, so that's what I called them. I am both, I suppose that
the 'real me' would be a combination of the two, but I'd rather see
myself as the former, so the name stuck there. As for the dark
side, well, maybe I had a reason for choosing that at the time that
I wrote this piece, but I can't remember what it was.
Wisdom From Woody
=================
"More than any other time in history, humanity faces a
crossroads. One path leads to despair and utter
hopelessness. The other, to total extinction. Let us
pray we have the wisdom to choose correctly." [Woody
Allen]
I just realized that Woody Allen has hit my quote list twice.
This frightens me to no end, but he's there, so I guess we have to
let him enjoy his moment.
It's 10:20pm and I can't study anymore. I just realized that
I failed calculus last term over a stupid calculation error
[Update: 2 days later, I passed calc this time, might have failed
another exam though... just in case you cared]. All I needed was
a couple of extra marks, and I pooched them. Great. Well, I'll
try to find a topic to follow now.
I'm going to try something a little different now, I'm going
to write based on the quote, what I normally do is just write an
article, and then try to find a quote that fits it, but I can't
think of anything original to say now, so I'll just see where this
takes us.
According to Mr. Allen (that just doesn't sound right) we have
two paths to choose from. Actually this could be true. As we
speak science is trying to find ways to make our lives 'better.'
Pills that you can take that will get rid of all the bad
cholesterol in your blood, little electronic gizmos that flex your
muscles for you, so you can sit on the couch, watch tv, and end up
looking like Arnold. This entire Information Superhighway garbage
that the media keeps on feeding to us, where if we're not on the
bandwagon we'll be caught under the wheels. Technology is taking
us to places that our parents could never have even dreamed of.
Everyone seems to have either a beeper or a cellular phone. A
friend of mine had to actually threaten the guy behind us in a
movie theatre because he kept getting calls on it. Is this what we
really want? Obviously I can't speak for everyone here, but
personally, I like the fact that someone has to make an effort to
get a hold of me. If someone wants to talk to me and I'm not in
then they have to leave a message on my answering machine. If you
read this article and want to tell me what an idiot I am (this is
not an invitation) then you have to send email to me, and wait for
me to reply (no I don't waste my life away in front of a terminal,
just on nights when a cs assignment is due). I know that you don't
have to answer the cel phone if someone calls you, but why spend
the $20 a month if you're just going to leave it sitting on the
shelf. I'm going to call this path the one to total extinction.
Just because, maybe we are getting to lazy. This is not
necessarily a bad thing, now we can be healthy and still eat a bag
of Doritos for dinner... it's a dream come true.
So what's with the despair and hopelessness? What's that
path. I guess for this to be a true crossroads I need to stick
with the same split decision. So technology it is. So what we
either destroy ourselves with it, or we can make our lives hell
without it. This pretty much makes sense to me. Where would I be
without my trusty computer? Where would I be without my kettle,
granted that's not a miracle of modern science, but I need my cup
(or 2) of tea (read: caffeine) every morning or else nothing
happens. Actually, I think this is the first time I've actually
written anything for this without caffeine surging through my
veins, hopefully it won't show, but I digress.
Now I'm stuck at some crossroads of my own. I really don't
like where I'm taking you with this article. I don't like the
direction, and I have no idea why I'm trying to waste your time
with something as 'fluffy' as this. Out of respect, I think I'll
end this one right now.
Mixed Emotions
==============
"I found this on my hard drive last week, it kind of
relates to duality, so I'll toss it in. I think I wrote
this last year sometime, but for the most part, some of
it is still true." [still me]
Mixed emotions. What a great concept. The obvious question
to those who have not be devastated by this truly remarkable gift
is 'how can someone be feeling two completely opposite things at
the same time?' I'll even go one step further... feeling two
opposites at the same time over the same subject. Okay, so this
might not be anything new, but that doesn't make it any easier to
deal with.
She is getting on with her life. That's the root of the
problem. She's happy, and I'm just ecstatic that she's happy. The
problem is that she is with someone else. Not you, some guy that
you only know by a name. She told you that he's good to her, and
at least she has a chance of finding the happiness that you
promised to her, but you just ran out of time before you could give
it to her. She said she was happy, and you have to believe her,
she may have lost her trust in you, but you never gave up faith in
her. You'd sooner destroy someone else for even thinking something
bad about her than consider that it's true. And if she is happy
then you have to be happy for her, whether or not she is happy with
you or someone else. Damn, I miss her.
I really wish that emotions were quantitative. That might
make everything a little bit cleaner. Then you can compare the
good with the bad, and then see who comes out on top. Easy.
Wrong, it doesn't work that way. You can't measure how much the
hurt just gnaws at your gut. You can't measure how much the
happiness just forces a smile to your face. You just can't. Once
you would've said that as long as she was happy then you'd be
happy, and happy for her. But she's happy and you've broken your
word again. Nice work kid.
Gen X or Gen $?
===============
"I've got clowns to the left of me / Jokers to the right
/ Here I am / Stuck in the middle with you" [Steelers
Wheel]
Prince started it all by calling himself whatever that symbol
thing is, so if he can be named after a symbol, why can't we take
it one step further and name an entire generation after a symbol?
What if we weren't generation X? I think that, technically,
it applies to people who are between 25 and 30 now, but thanks to
MuchMusic, MTV and whoever else is speaking for us these day we got
it tacked onto ourselves too. But, if we're not generation X, then
what are we? I propose a new generation. This should just about
cover anyone too young for gen X, but old enough to drive by now.
From now on, we will be Generation $.
We are the children of the '80's. The infamous ME decade. As
children we were handed whatever we wanted and that wonderful
convenience has crossed over to us now. Tell me this, who's more
likely to complain about 'the man' or 'the system'? Is it the 20
year old in college who's had everything handed to him in life,
whose 'mommy' and 'daddy' are paying for his education, drinking,
car, etc... or is it some poor 20 year old, who actually had to
fight the same 'man' and 'system' and worked and struggled just so
he could improve his life, just so he could be on the same level as
our spoonfed hero?
Life or Death
=============
"Days of my life I'd like to forget: The day the doctors
told me I was sick. The day I had to tell my friends I
was ill. The day my hair fell out. The first day after
my surgery. They're also the days I'll always remember."
[Kate Sawford]
"I thought <I Hate Myself And I Want To Die> was a funny
title." [Kurt Cobain]
Here's a story of a 13 year old girl, and a story about a 27
year old man. The girl has Ewing's Sarcoma (a rare form of
cancer). The guy had everything: money, fame, maybe even a
Godlike status. She was diagnosed with the cancer in March, 1993,
he shot himself in the head with a 12 gauge in April, 1994. She
fought, he lost. She's Kate Sawford, he was Kurt Cobain.
What inspired this little departure from the topic? Well,
it's the one year anniversary of Cobain's death, and the radio is
doing a special on it, I read an article about Kate in the
newspaper last week. It's just strange to see two lives wrought
with pain, but taking two completely opposite directions. Five
years ago a friend told me that we can't allow death to be an
option. It's just one of those decisions that we can't turn back
from. You can't win the game if you don't play. Was she right?
I don't know. Another friend of mine held his girlfriend in his
arms as she died after being clipped one night by a drunk driver,
and I'm not even sure if he's still alive anymore. Yes he felt
guilty, we all did. Yes he felt pain, he lost the only thing that
mattered to him in life (literally). The last time I talked to him
was 3 years after she died, and the wounds were as fresh then as
they were on that night. Yet he lived with the pain. Was he
right? Last month I was ranting about euthanasia, does this mean
that I was wrong? I set out looking for answers, and all I'm left
with is more questions.
I don't know if I'd have the courage to kill myself, but for
me at least that's not an option, and so the thought isn't always
floating around in the back of my head. But what about the people
that do? For some reason Cobain has grown to an almost biblical
status since he's killed himself. How many people killed
themselves after he did because he was gone?
Kate had the courage to live, Kurt had the courage to die.
Who was right? Is there a right choice? All I know is that I have
a dizzying amount of respect for her, while I've barely noticed his
absence.
Yo Kurt
=======
Every once in a while, I come across something that just
stops me dead in my tracks. I read something, and for a
moment realize that someone else thinks the same way that
I do. Someone else feels the same way that I do. For
the briefest of moments I get this ray of clarity, and
things make sense. For just a fraction of a second I am
not alone. This is one of those things. I'm posting it
because last week I was pummelled from all sides because
it was the anniversary of Kurt Cobain killing himself.
I found this on a newsgroup way back in February, and
kept it because it was perfect. So here it is, in its
full glory.
by Robert W. F. Clark [anon2c9e@nyx10.cs.du.edu]
I was thinking about Kurt Cobain today. I didn't want to do
that. It wasn't something I went out of my way to do. I was
just trying to get home.
I tried to catch a bus, made a pathetic attempt to catch a
bus home, and I thought I had caught a bus home. I just wanted
to go home. That's all I wanted.
As the bus rolled off, and I thought I was going home, a
Nirvana tune started -- 'I never lost control' I heard. I heard
a voice, and of course that voice brought the one thought that it
could. It brought the thought 'you're dead.' I thought suicide.
I thought shotgun. I remembered the day a friend came over and
told me 'Kurt Cobain killed himself.'
I never liked Nirvana. The one tune that would get me to
turn up the radio was 'Lithium' and all the others got the radio
shut off entirely. 'Commercial crap' I'd think and ridicule it
in vague attempts at what seemed to be cool -- yeah, I'm too cool
to dig this fake shit, this fake sadness and this pre-packaged
depression. And I'd slam it, and make fun of Kurt, and join
together with other smug, sardonic, worthless bastards to slam
something I'd never even really listened to.
Sad thing is I'll never really get a fresh listen to any of
this stuff -- now, whenever I hear a Nirvana tune I'll think
suicideshotgundead. and I hear 'em a lot, now that he's dead.
It sure sells records, old daddy death.
Since after all now that he's blown his head off he's
automatically cool with the same crowd that slammed him when he
was alive.
Hey, after all, nothing's cooler to pussies in black than a
self-snuff -- someone with the guts actually to do what they
claim they want to do. After all, after all afterallafterall
death is cool, right?
These are fucking people who have never seen death. They've
never seen a friend never able to lift a fucking finger again,
stuck in a wheelchair like a mortuary barcalounger, you'll be in
this until you're in a box buddy.
These are people who have never stopped over to a friend's
house for a visit before the school year began, and next heard
news of him in a coma, near-dead, and hey buddy, remember your
feet? They're gone. Here's these plastic things. These are
your _new_ feet.
These are people who have never been a quadriplegic buddy
already fucked enough, riding in the passenger's seat when out of
nowhere comes a drunk driver, and totally paralyzed gets to watch
the crash, still conscious with a fractured skull, gets to watch
his wife, his nurse, his fucking entire family wrapped up in one
beautiful woman, gets to watch helplessly as she coughs up her
last breath, while you, you, worthless fucking cripple, nothing
nowhere can't even wipe your own ass cripple, worthless
fractured-skull quadriplegic motherfucker, watch your life die in
front of you.
Hey, buddy, hey, my friend. Damn it, Ray, you don't get any
credits rolling for you. You get to limp along, and I've heard
you tell me this, you can't even lift the gun to blow your head
off, and that's what you want. You've told me that. No wonder
you drink and drink and drink -- god didn't give a shit that you
were a fucking brilliant mind, that you were a mathematician,
hey, to god, you're a fucking slab of meat. Die. Jesus doesn't
give a shit.
Jesus had enough with this world, so fuck you.
Jesus says fuck your crippled ass, and I say fuck jesus.
Fuck god. What kind of fucking god does this?
These are poseurs. These people play at death. These
people play at death as yuppies play at aristocracy as the rest
of the world dies.
Yeah, Kurt, you died for these peoples' sins. You died for
these so-seattle-cool people, you died for all the other junkies,
you died for my pretentious ass.
And every time from now on I ever see your face I see the
blood, see you splattered against a wall. I see you on MTV doing
your rockstar shtick, and I suddenly look at your face as you
sing, and what do I see but pain -- the pain it cost you just to
sing.
And hey, you were adored by millions. Millions of poseurs,
each with a buck, millions of bucks. And you were despised by
millions of poseurs, and I was one of them.
But not all the adoration, the antidepressants, the love,
the validation, the gold records, absolutely fucking nothing
could save you, could it? 'I never lost control.'
And I see you in that video, as I sat in the bus, thinking about
you, in a way I haven't -- I never dealt with this -- I made smug
cynical comments, and jokes, and pretended that it didn't goddamn
hurt, that it wasn't relevant, that you hadn't taken a little
piece of me with you.
Hey, even those of us who hated you expected you to be
around a little while to hate. So I have no right no mourn you.
I have no right to consider this a personal loss.
Another Nirvana tune comes on and another.
I can't deal with this. Suddenly even in the bus even in
public I think -- you poor bastard.
You never.
You never had a chance.
You got a free ticket to the loser's club, the suicide
hotel, instant cool, and instant vampirization.
And you knew it, I can see that now.
And oddly, you, Kurt, maybe a year or two older than I am,
by doing what you did, you became the voice of a generation --
all of us fucked just like you.
But some of us have to keep living, you see.
Some of us can't _lift_ the gun.
Some of us can't mourn and get on with it.
Some of us will hear your fucking tunes and think
suicideshotgundeath for the rest of our lives.
Yeah, other beautiful people died. Janis Joplin. Other
beautiful people crashed and burned. Marilyn Monroe. Other
beautiful people couldn't deal. Jimi Hendrix.
Other geniuses gave life a miss, eventually. Try Turing.
Other icons bit it. Our buddy Sid.
But you were the first to state the truth so fucking
obviously -- you said 'I hate myself and want to die' and people
thought you had a sense of irony. The truth was you hated
yourself and wanted to die. And you did.
You solved all your problems at once, tied them up in a
single knot and blasted it the fuck apart with a shotgun.
Did you have to be so obvious?
I knew the truth. Did you have to tell it to everyone in
such simple Dr. Seuss terms as blamblamblam?
Well, you got your rest, buddy Kurt.
You proved you weren't a fake.
You took yourself out. You did it. You said it and then
you did it -- this commands respect.
You made it where you wanted to go.
But motherfucker, just know, wherever the fuck you are,
wherever the nowhere fucker you went -- know, dude.
You took some of us with you.
As Much Fun As Getting Your Teeth Pulled
========================================
"When the bluebird's singing on your window pane / And
the sun shines bright, all day through / Don't forget
boy / Look over your shoulder / 'Cause there's always
someone coming after you." [Humble & Fred]
by Paul Sheen [ThePeach@cyberspace.org]
Ever feel like something is a total conspiracy? Ever felt
like something is out of your hands and there was nothing you
could do about it? Well that's how I feel when I go to the
dentist. Which, I might add, is not all that frequent when
you're being shuttled off to different cities between work and
school and rest (ie. food and sleep at home for a couple days.)
I can't say I complain about not getting the chance to go to the
dentist, but I manage to get there about once a year, half of the
yearly recommended visits. So I go begrudgingly, taking a chunk
out of my relaxation time for an hour in hell. Prodding my teeth
with sharp objects and filling my mouth with weird tasting things
is not my idea of a good time.
So I decided to go home for Easter last week. And my mom
idly mentioned that I would have to visit the dentist. Then I
get home and my mom tells me that I have an appointment to visit
the hygienist on Monday right before I have to hop on the train
and do the 4 hour ride back to work. I was none too happy about
this, but I figured, hey, at least the dentist wouldn't be able
to get me back to fill any holes that he found since I would not
be in town for a while after. I'm still mad at my mother when I
go to sleep on Thursday night.
It's Friday now and I've totally avoided doing anything that
involves coherent thought. I save that for dreams, because
they're more exciting. My mom asks me if I want to cancel the
appointment and I say yes, but I didn't bother to call in because
that would mean I have to lift the receiver of the phone. And in
my home that's energy-expending. Especially since I have one of
those rotary phones. Remember those? The things with the big
circle and the holes, and you wind it. Back in the days when you
didn't have that auto-dial going, with that annoying pulse phone
line. Anyway, so I go to bed.
Saturday morning comes along and this is how I'm greeted:
"Wake up, Bill's here and he wants to see you.. Oh and you're
going to the dentist in an hour." So I have to interact with
humans *AND* go to the dentist *AND* get up early (11:30). I was
none too happy. Perhaps I should explain why. Ever since Dr.
Stulberg retired, I've been going to see Jerry at the local mall.
He's a young guy, still paying his mortgage and supporting his
young children. So he needs all the money he can get, right? So
I'm not pleased because every time I go to see this dentist, I
have cavities. Every *single* time I've had a cavity when I've
seen this guy. That in itself isn't a big deal. Maybe it's
because I don't floss regularly. However, I've had other
dentists check me in the 5 years that I've been seeing him, and
*NEVER* have they found any cavities. So I'm convinced that he's
just going to find 12 cavities and tell me I have to come back
Monday and then my entire weekend will be ruined. And all
because he had to have that big house.
So I'm at the dentists office, and surprisingly, I waited
less than 5 minutes until a perky dental hygienist came to tell
me she was ready to ravage my mouth. Off to hell, I whimpered
and walked off to my demise. So then I'm sitting there getting
tartar scratched off of my teeth and "Cat Scratch Fever" a Ted
Nugent classic comes on. I comment that it's usually Musak
that's played in the dentist's office and she turns it up for
me.. AC/DC comes on and I'm banging my head while hygienist chick
is struggling to floss me. Ever notice how flimsy those chairs
are? You sure do when you're tapping your foot. Everytime she
takes her fingers out of my mouth I mention how I'm *far* away
and I won't be home for a *long* time. Hoping that
subconsciously this would make her ignore tiny cavities. Now I'm
swigging fluoride and the dentist comes in to take a look at me
and asks me all kinds of stupid questions. Then he says
"Everything looks ok" and leaves. I'm totally dumbfounded! This
guy has ruined my conspiracy theory. Oh.. I get it now.. He's
finally paid off that mortgage. I wondered why he put that gold
filling in last time. So I went home happily with my floss,
toothbrush and gum stimulator to eat a tonne of sugary foods on
Easter Sunday. The moral of the story is always make sure your
dentist doesn't owe too much money
A sidenote to this story. I was informed that those little
red pills thingys that they give you to show you how much plaque
you have on your teeth are a complete scam! That's right. They
are just a scare tactic for dentists on unsuspecting children.
The red gunk just sorta sticks to anything. To add a little
irony to this piece I'm brushing my teeth as I type.
So, What Now?
=============
"Journeys, like artists, are born and not made. A
thousand differing circumstances contribute to them,
few of them willed or determined by the will --
whatever we may think." [Lawrence Durrell]
Ahhhh, let's see. May is coming up, that means probably the
most free time so far since I've started this. Hopefully that
means, that I can actually do some more interesting things. But
I'm not too sure about that, usually don't have nearly as many
sleepless nights in the summer, except the end of July and the
middle of August at least, but both of those are stories for
another time. Actually, in the summer I have the roof of my shed
to sit on, so maybe I won't need any sleepless nights. Why don't
I stop rambling now?
Oh, and how about Control next month? How to get it, and
what to do with it once you have it. Sounds kinda interesting.
I'm beginning to get a feel for what's going on here. I'd
like some input from you before I go on, but I've gotten this far
without any so that's fine. I should apologize for this issue,
it was put out under severe time constraints and a bit of the
stomach flu (you probably didn't need to hear that), and I guess
I just did. 'nuff said.
Anyways, by next month I should actually get a game plan
sort of thing going. I've tested the waters and now I'm going to
jump in. If there's anything you'd like to change or leave the
same, let me know. Summer's about to begin, so now I'll have the
time to invest in this to make it fly. Thanks for reading.
Administrivia And Other Big Words
=================================
It seems that not all of my mail was forwarded from the
eternity address, so if you sent something, but I didn't reply to
it then I didn't get it. You might want to send it again.
Sorry.
Well if you have this then you probably know how you got it,
but in case this was passed on to you, then I'll just let you
know where you can find it.
ftp: ftp.etext.org /pub/Zines/WhyMe/
gopher: gopher.etext.org follow the prompts
mail: if you want a copy sent by mail then just send a
request to me at the eternity address. If you ask for
a copy I'll send one to you.
subscriptions: Just send me mail, I'll add you to the list. All
I ask is that you let me know what you think about
this 'zine, and you can even mention how you found
out about it.
As always, if you have a question, comment, statement, rant,
or anything, feel free to let me know. There's always room for
me to improve, and there's always room for an extra page of
filler.
And the quote list that started it all can be found at the
ftp site... I think you can gopher it, but it's pretty big, so
ftping it would probably be the easiest thing to do. Or I could
just mail it to you. The most recent copy is at the ftp site
now. This should replace the one that's been there since
February.
Disclaimer
==========
I take full responsibility of the overall content here.
There might be other contributors (and what they say is their own
intellectual property), but what goes into this is my choice.
Truth is subjective (if you believe something then to you it is
fact, and if you don't then it is fiction, simple enough?) so I
won't make any claims about honesty... believe what you want. If
you're going to use something from here just make sure that you
cite whoever wrote the article. If it doesn't say who wrote it,
then it's probably me.
If you know anything about ISSN numbers, like where I can
get one, or what I need them for, or even if I need one, could
you please let me know... Everyone else has one, and I want one
too. Thanks.
Sanjay Singh (4/26/95)
