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Evolution Issue 09
-:+:- +evolution+ -:+:- issue nine -:+:- march 20, 1997 -:+:-
_____________________________________________________________________
ok. it's issue #9. rejoice, rejoice, blah blah blah..
this is going to be my last issue for a while. i don't really have
time anymore. so, what's gonna happen, i'm gonna turn +evolution+
over to a friend of mine for a while. he's appeared here before, you
may recognize the handle.
i'll probably still contribute some stuff, but i'm giving up the
editorial side of things for a while.
-:+:--------------:+:-
in this issue...
stuff! i don't feel like making a table of contents this time.
suffer, or don't care - it all works the same for me.
-:+:--------------:+:-
:.: [1] south 23 : chapter two :.:
. this litle piece of writing is intended as chapter two of the
. story i began in +evolution+ #8. it also works well as a
. stand-alone short work.
.
. i might contribute more of this in the future when +evolution+
. is under kayem's guidance. though i suppose if he wants to
. write some stuff in this little saga, that's cool with me..
December, 1996. I was on a plane headed to Boston from Milwaukee,
having spent christmas with my family in Wisconsin.
Midwest Express never failed to amaze me -- such beautiful food, huge
leather seats -- it was like heaven. Maybe it was heaven, I mean,
30,000 feet above the earth is pretty damn heavenly. And that girl..
She was sitting in front of me. seat 15-A to my 16-B. I saw a lot of
her hair, seeing as she was in front of me and backs of heads are
often covered in the stuff. And beautiful hair it was -- a nice
brown color, straight, extending down about four or five inches below
the shoulders, with very subtle highlights toward the front, near her
face. Her eyes, a deep brown, in the dim light of the nighttime trip
across the Great Lakes. Soft, round, her face was near the the
perfect imperfection I had been seeking for quite a while. She was
my airplane girl.
Every man, at some point, encounters her. She's not necessarily an
airplane girl; she might be a subway girl or a bus girl, or maybe
even a bookstore or coffee shop girl. But she's there, at some
point. Yr mind starts racing, heartbeat accelerates, dreams and
fantasies begin flowing out of nowhere, those few minutes or hours
extending into saomething paradoxically longer and shorter.
And then, she's gone, forever.
-:+:--------------:+:-
:.: [2] some untitled ramblings i wrote :.:
:.: a few days ago while mildly drunk :.:
i want to touch i want to taste i want to feel i want to hold i want
to kiss i want to fuck i want the ability to live outside of myself
and feel something besides my own self hate and loathing i want to
lay in bed and hold someone and feel them against me and i want to
know that someone else cares about me instead of me caring about
another person for a change or maybe i just want to be like everyone
else and have meaningless torture-ridden relationships for the sake
of getting laid at the end of the night but i don't i want love but i
can't because i can't have the meaningless relationships to find out
who the fuck i am because i don't know anymore i don't know anything
about myself i'm lost in this world seeking a love i can't have and
probably won't ever find because i can't handle it but i can't handle
being alone anymore either i see my friends having physical sexual
contact and i want that but i don't want the horrible torture of
having my mind fucked with like everyone else people always think i'm
really strong because i tell them that i don't want meaningless
sexual relationships which is true but it's also because i just
can't i can't can't conceptualize it i can't think about it and i
certainly can't do it and i'm sick of it i want to go out and fuck
someone right now just to get it over with to say i did it i can't
handle this i can't handle.
:.: duct tape boy : 3.16.97 :.:
-:+:--------------:+:-
:.: [3] smash yr head on the pun krock! :.:
the teenage anthem: the time honored-tradition of the catchy little
rock ditty.
where did it go?
no longer do we have our "teen age riot", our "it's the end of the
world as we know it", our "god save the alternateen", our
"outspoken", the songs every kid we knew could start singing at any
time and everyone else would break out in a mass sing-along as we sat
in a basement or walked down the street or drove to some monday night
all ages show.
the songs of our youth have been replaced with the songs of someone
else's youth: "out of step", "straight edge", songs written 15 years
ago or more. every band these days plays minor threat's version of
"steppin' stone", complete with their singer copying ian mackaye's
random scream at the end.
i know it sounds like i'm whining about the sad state of the lower
cape music skeen. i am. and i plan to continue until someone
besides me and my tiny little tribe does something about it. i know
that bryan and aidan and myself aren't the only ones fed up with the
bullshit that is this hardcore punk revival.
the reason teenage anthems are what they are is that they're
original. sure, they're all rock songs, but something distinguishes
them from the other music, the other rock songs that coexist at the
same time.
a minor threat song isn't different from a song by a band that wants
to be minor threat.
it's all been done before. the trick is to do it in a different way.
-:+:--------------:+:-
:.: closing thoughts :.:
yeah, i know, it's not too long, but that's ok. quality over
quantity, or something like that..
so, i'm out5k for a while. kayem, don't fuck up my zine. too much. 8)
-:+:--------------:+:-
:.: +evolution+ :.: editor : duct tape boy :.:
contact +evolution+:
+ electronic mail : zaphod@sidehack.gweep.net
+ united states postal service : p.o. box 1631, orleans, ma 02653
+ telephone : (508) 934-5131
+ telepathy : think about duct tape for a few minutes
(C) 1997 Mono Boy Comunications
