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Evolution Issue 07
-:+:- +evolution+ -:+:- issue seven -:+:- January , 1997 -:+:-
______________________________________________________________________
+[ Table of Contents ]+
+ from the desk of the head freak duct tape boy
+ poem : strawberry duct tape boy
+ important things to know
+ everywhere men are born free,
but living in chains lizrdking
+ nauset as pre-revolutionary france kayem
-:+:-------------:+:-
-+:[from the desk of the head freak]:+-
-+:[opening notes by duct tape boy]:+-
greetings, travelers. the new issue of +evolution+ has arrived in
your lovely electronic mailbox. or, perhaps not. you see,
+evolution+ has a bit of a home now in the beautiful and
under-exploited (at least these days) world of ftp. the beautiful
freaks who run ftp.etext.org have decided that my submission is
worthy of wasting their valuable disk space on, so now you and all
of your friends can download copies there if you happened to have
missed some of the older issues, or if you just feel like it.
granted, I'd prefer, for purposes of my ego, that you sign up for
the mailing list. I mean, hey, you can either have to look on some
host to see whether or not I've posted a new issue (which might be
lame, since my writing schedule is so darn sporadic), or you can
know immediately by simply checking your mail.
what I'm trying to say in all of this is: ftp to ftp.etext.org.
there, in the directory /pub/Zines/Evolution, you can find this
zine. this is a good thing. and while you're there, check out some
of the other zines in /pub/Zines.. there's a lot of good one in
there, many of which deserve some browsing.
this issue features two essays by lizrdking and kayem, both written
for their respective high skool european history classes. the idea
of the assignment is to show the similarites between nauset
regional high skool and pre-revolutionary france. i think they're
two of the most amazing pieces of editorial writing about the sad
social state at my alma mater, and therefore, i include them here.
-:+:-------------:+:-
all I ever wanted
all I ever needed
is here, in my arms
words are very unnecesary
they can only do harm
- Depeche Mode, "Enjoy The Silence"
-+:[strawberry]:+-
-+:[duct tape boy]:+-
i think back
just two short months have passed
since that first
time
when i truly knew
when we were together
when you were in my arms
on the stairs
in quiet solitude
frozen
i felt frozen
unmoving in time
your sickness
like i was removing it from your body
through your burning skin and hair
into my young hands
that moment lasted for days
on the couch
the soft glare of the television screen
shining
my arms around you
the sweet fruit of yr hair
and it's still there
the burning
the yearning
twisting inside of me
i look inside
and i want this
and i want you
and i want to love again
and i want to enjoy the silence
no one else smells like you
no one else feels like you
no one else can replace you
no one else.
+[duct tape boy : 1.10.97]+
-:+:-------------:+:-
-+:[important things to know]:+-
+ today, January 12, 1997, is the day the HAL 9000 computer is
born. well, at least that's what Arthur C. Clarke says about
it.. Stanley Kubrick, who directed _2001: A Space Oddysey_,
prefers his birthdate to be January 12, 1992. in either case,
happy birthday, HAL.
+ one month from now is lizrdking's birthday. I know this means
little to a good portion of the readership, but that doesn't
matter, since it should matter. I mean, hey, he wrote the next
story, so you should care.
+ International House of Pancakes' "Rutti Tutti Fresh 'n' Fruity"
breakfast comes with your choice of bacon or sausage.
+ Des Moines, Iowa has the highest per capita Jell-O consumption in
the United States.
-:+:-------------:+:-
-+:[everywhere men are born free, but living in chains]:+-
-+:[submitted by : lizrdking]:+-
Dateline:
Paris
What was once a perfect model of a peaceful and prosperous
community has been turned into a new model of modern massacre,
exemplifying the struggles and heart-ache caused by harsh civil
strife.
This series will bring you back to a time of calamity, a time when
it was safe to walk through the streets, a time when it was safe to
make an honest living; up to the present where a man cannot even be
sure that he will come home to enough food on the table. For the
first time in public we will give you an unprecedented look at the
inside of the turmoil, from the parties involved to the reasons
leading up to the chaos.
Dateline:
Versailles
Inside the campus at Versailles, the morning begins with a short
briefing on the upcoming game, followed by the parking of team
related vehicles in the choice parking spots that surround the main
building. Once escorted inside, (accompanied by a flock of young
women), the ritual dressing begins, and the players are suited into
their neatly pressed jackets and shirts, adorned by new ties,
sometimes a sweater, and always shiny leather shoes. Once lessons
are begun for the day, the relaxed atmosphere of the basic courses
is pleasing to these hard working athletes, who take this
opportunity to show off there mastery of such courses and
activities such as the ritual afternoon hunt, and the morning
races. When classes have subdued for the day, it is time to mingle
with the rest of the population at the campus, and at the midday
meal, casually waltz through the lunch line, simply moving those
less unfortunate out of the way. Once seated, (at none other than
the royal seating area), a few choice young women have the
privilege of assisting the food into his mouth, such that it does
not soil or otherwise mark up his game-day outfit. Once the meal is
over, (though in the average work day a good few hours remain) it
is time for the team to assemble, and to meet once again in the
restricted areas of the locker room. During the walk across campus,
many a game of "ball" is broken up as a small group of the elite
are seen coming across the yard from the dining hall. After
assembling, another brief meeting takes place, and at the close of
this meeting the coach is boarded where they will be whisked away
by boat to travel to important overseas delegation. With the
departure of the privileged, the young women of the campus are
returned once again to their studies, and the rest of the palace
bites their nails as they wait for the results and good word from
across the sea.
Dateline:
Paris
Just take a walk down any street or alley in Paris, and it is
impossible to hide from your eyes the lowly heartache and disaster
that confronts any member of this degenerate class. We turn now to
the country, where we hear the woes of leaving for hard work in the
fields as early as 6.30, and often not returning home till late
afternoon; thirty minutes of lunch break, and facilities that reek
of the pleasures of the wealthy. The work is hard, and often yields
no results under the pressure of those for whom the work is for.
The pathetic social gatherings, the assemblies in the villages
outside of the palace at Versailles, and the trivial love lives,
producing relationships and offspring that will do nothing but
further their troubles. Contained within these workers, the
ordinary, the producers of the system is the desire to no longer
produce, but to instead consume. The average worker, dressed in the
garb which not all too demeaning separates him from the noble
mentality, will observe these finely dressed men parade through the
courtyard, his courtyard, the land that he has sown, the land that
he paces each day, the books and barrels he has printed, the murals
and signs in advertisement that he has painted on the windows, but
still must get on his knees and kiss the boot of this "gentlemen"
that walks before him. The life lead by the peasant was one of work
and more work, hope and more hope, but most of all, of contempt.
The student who watches with anger the suited player, achieved and
well worked, with the privileges and honors that go with his title
prance around so easily and honorably the campus, as he is left to
stare as he goes on with the daily workings of life. He watches
with an eye as he knows that this noble, vial creature struts with
no worries as to the taxing situation, yet while he, the honest
tradesman, is given no favor and pays a heavy due. Just as the
average student watches and knows that that star-studded player
does not worry about his marks; as such a noble, and as such a
position as a hero that he is not in danger of following below the
required mark, yet as an honest worker, it is a tough criteria he
faces everyday.
Dateline:
Somewhere in the Mountains
The life of the clergyman, if one was to honor a life, would be the
life that one should honor. All day these devout men work, slaving
over their books, copying ancient manuscripts, learning the ancient
tongues, and perfecting the worship of their God. The goal is
simply to lead a life as simple as it can be, to engulf ones self
in knowledge and learning. So is the life of the intellect, the
student who receives all the best marks, takes the courses
seriously, and is the model student of the school. Yet it is just
these privileges, these honors that lead to corruption, and the
honest clergyman who once took the sacred vows of poverty,
chastity, and obedience, finds himself spoiled, soon unchaste,
un-obedient, and surprisingly wealthy. As a man of noble stature,
women come easy to him, as the son of wealth, poverty is not an
option; and as obedient, he is obedient only to the callings of
self-interest; the church, now more than ever, a connection to the
weak government. And it is the intellect, who with his fine dress,
(though not necessarily extravagant), fine looks, and cunning wit
and mind, is a draw to the same above as the clergyman; using his
talents to find monetary benefits, his mind and looks to find
women, and the un-disciplined nature of his actions the very basis
of his folly. The clergyman and intellect, who with the noble and
suited share no common interests or goals, no motivation or desire,
except that of lust, money and power; these individuals too, like
the fine dressed noble or athlete, are exempt to the burdens that
their respective institutions of rule lay upon them. To the
intellect, he needs no swaying or alternative weighing of the
marks, for he can accomplish these easy on his own. And as a member
of the elite Church, the clergyman is exempt from all such taxes,
yet still receives the pleasures of the noble.
Dateline:
Paris
Hidden by the darkness of the street corners, laying low throughout
the streets at dawn, these secret revolutionaries hear all, see
all, and know all. Watching the happenings of city life, the
members are some of high status, others of no status other than
that of mercenary; a group disgruntled but organized. Some, dressed
in the rags, other in modest dress, know each other by nothing but
a simple code, or by face, but can instantly recognize someone true
to the cause. These creatures of the night are those who oppose
everything that their nation stands for; it are these who question
the hand that feeds them, or in some cases, is unable to provide
for them. Questioning anything, challenging the simple threads by
which the society stands, looking for nothing more than an angry
fix for their self-inflicted self-interest, and the longing to have
more. In some cases it is honest equality that they seek, while in
others it is simply the desire for a role reversal. In the city
streets outside the campus, it are those who cling to that special
wall, mill around it, breathe from it, claim the steps and the
cluttered hall. Their hair is short, shaved, styled loosely or
offensively, often green, or red, or purple. Velvet Doc's,
fish-string leggings or tights, ragged, baggy, cut off slacks, or
tight fitting jeans, bleach marks, spikes, chains, and rope hanging
from every loose place to clip these objects. Patches galore,
symbolizing everything and everything, the faded anarchy symbols
that proclaim their cause loud and clear. The headphones clamped on
tight, nodding heads, stomping feet. Uninterested attitude, lippy,
rude, and disrespectful tones of voice, and just as disrespectful
words. Questioning everything and everything, without ever once
finding the need to question themselves, ready to challenge
anything they see as wrong; spurn at the well dressed, bicker at
the intellects, and cast themselves above those peasants, just as
the revolutionaries themselves hate with such a vengeance the rich,
the powerful, and the holy. Willing to take up arms, yet unwilling
to attend a class; willing to preach and complain, yet unwilling to
rationalize their situation, and constructively improve it. These
unmotivated green haired, patch wearing students are the ones who
complain so loudly about the conditions of their own life, and of
the unjust and the bad in the system. Yet it is also these students
who want nothing more than to become the epitome of those they so
hate; just as it is the dwellers of the wine shop who want nothing
more than to float around Paris in their fancy dress and carriage.
And it is with these unhappy parties that our story begins.
Dateline:
Paris
And so it is that these green haired students spend their days
grouping together in the dark alleys and the corner shops, lowering
dark eyes as the boat carrying the privileged and skilled across
the sea passes, turning their heads, but turning back wide eyed as
they see the thousands of helpless, defenseless common workers,
simply begging someone to lead them. It was then that these
unfortunate beings became grouped into something more than a few
rebellious, shocking ideas, but a party based on anger; a party
based on the same feelings that the Third Reich would be based on
one hundred and fifty years later. Organized, led; rising up
against the intellect and privileged, at the base seeking only what
they don't have; the lust, the money, the wealth, and the
privileges. From here the secret meetings, spies, and acquaintances
began. Quiet moving, intelligence threatened. A fleeing King, a
burning prison, and a revolution had begun.
It is this scene that awaits your eyes when you look outside of
your own home today, the scene where you see the fires, the mobs,
and the hangings. No more secrets are needed for these
revolutionaries, and the entire city now is cast under the dark
cover of the uprising. What will become of these athletes, these
intellects, and these everyday students? The same as of what became
of the nobles, the clergy, and the peasants. For in this snapshot,
the diversity and the temper in the differences of the social
classes can be seen anywhere, from the friendly campus of Nauset
Regional High School, to the grainy streets and flowing fountains
of Paris. "Everywhere Men are Born Free, but are Living in Chains"
-:+:-------------:+:-
-+:[nauset as pre-revolutionary france]:+-
-+:[submitted by : kayem]:+-
It is possible to point out the parallels that one could draw
between a Pre-Revolutionary French community and our high school.
One such community would have had the social class system that was
demonstrated throughout France at the time, with 3 estates. Such
as social class system may be seen in Nauset, and will be outlined
in this essay.
In Pre-Revolutionary France, most of the people were in the 3rd
Estate, meaning that they were in the lowest class, below the 1st
and 2nd estates, having clergy and nobles in each, respectively.
This is much like our school, where students fit into the
categories of the three estates: 1st estate, the jocks,
"jockettes," and the other assorted popular people. The 2nd estate
consists of the "punks"-the ones who pit themselves as totally
unlike the 1st estate in their ways, yet their practices of
admittance into this estate are quite similar. The 3rd estate
consists of everyone who doesn't fit into those stereotypes or ways
of life.
The 1st estate enjoyed many special privileges that others did not,
such as the run of the school, being able to do what others
couldn't-in a sense, the holy ones of the school. This estate
enjoyed many different privileges due to their social stature,
their vows to the administrators of the school often went
disregarded, often deciding to be daring and use their power for
what was forbidden of them to cut corners. They were also very
skittish of acceptance into their group, only the socially and
physically perfect were allowed.
The 2nd estate of Nauset was in possession of a series of similar
rights and privileges, yet believed to be horribly oppressed below
the 1st estate, when in reality, they were almost equal in stature,
the sole factor dividing the two groups being that they were not
quite as difficult to be inducted into. Yet they discriminated as
much as the 1st estate, and outright denied doing so, proclaiming
that the 1st estate was unjust in its practices, while its own
practices were quite the same, in actuality.
The 3rd estate, being comprised of the majority of other students,
felt outraged at their hideous treatment from the higher estates,
and wished that they could receive better treatment from the higher
estates. They disliked being the only one who actually had to work
for their social stature. They were tired of being look down upon
by the 1st and 2nd estates and most of all, being mocked by these
estates for their poor social situation.
The conclusion to this situation was that something must be done.
There were a few enlightened ones around the school, who slowly
gathered forces and began to collaborate to revolt against these
gross injustices. They slowly formed plans and took the school by
storm. The system was overturned, and the 3rd estate began to
reach justice. The oppressed one had prevailed over the Goliath.
The estates of the typical Pre-Revolutionary French community were
grossly unjust, yet until the revolution, there was not much the
3rd estate's people could do to help their situation at all. The
French Revolution vastly improved things for everyone in France,
save the 1st and 2nd estates, but it did gain the majority of the
people some rights.
-:+:--------------:+:-
+evolution+ editor : duct tape boy
+ sign up for the evolution mailing list!
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snail mail address:
+evolution+
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(C) 1997 Mono Boy Productions, in association with Angst
Communications and Beat Productions.
