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Flodis Issue 07

eZine's profile picture
Published in 
Flowers of Disruption
 · 5 years ago

  


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flowers of disruption #7 -- 24.07.99 -- by trilobyte
== the zine for tasha & anjee ==

---
there are now officially two issues of flodis known as #5. you can refer to
the one created
at a later date as flodis #6. this is, officially, flodis #7.

---

this issue was written on a laptop at the local internet cafe. i didn't
know if i should
submit this to hoe or put it in flodis. but i can't do anything right, so
i'll release it
in flodis. maybe it'll go into hoe later, since this is the zine for anjee
and tasha,
while other people actually read hoe.

i must've been doing something right because the toilet began running its
water right as i was done doing my business. i gave it the kind of
positive reinforcement that all living things deserve when they do
something right. and it had given me mine.

the toilet was probably correct in assuming that i had read a depressing
story when i was depressed, which is always a good thing to do. it shows
you that you have a right to be unhappy or melancholy, because other people
have done so and have ended up being quite successful by the end.

the story i read involved a pond, and ponds involve water. the toilet ran
its water to confirm the place of the pond-story in my mind. my depression
has little to do with water, i don't think; or maybe it easily could, since
i really might not understand a fluid ounce of it. maybe if i did, i
wouldn't be in this state.

it could involve the cold capsules i took earlier this evening. drugs that
slow you down can slow down your interest in the world. there are other
people in the world but they just dont have much influence on you.
something else is influencing you, and that something else is known as a
drug.

for as long as i can remember my mother would give me little yellow pills
made of condensed powder. i'd place them in my mouth and they'd instantly
absorb any moisture they touched, and their powdery little bodies would
stick to my mouth's internal skin.

these pills were supposed to do something to help my runny nose and sneezing
and other allergic or cold-related symptoms. i only remember them making
me tired, though. i'd be woozy. that could mean that my whole memory of a
grade-school experience is just a yellow powdery capsule. it enters
my mouth and sticks to my gums and cheeks. i have to swallow it before it
dissolves there and only leaves me tired with a bad chemical aftertaste.

i used to drink coffee back then too. the wait for the bus would be cold
and i'd wrap myself in a blanket with my mother, standing there on the
sidewalk. some winters were just blisteringly cold. i was pretty
comfortable there in the blanket with my mother, though, and she would have
a mug of coffee which she had prepared at our house just a few hundred feet
away. the coffee would send warm steam into the cold air and sometimes
when it was under the blanket it was like just another family member
keeping us warm. i would take small sips and it would join the yellow
pills in my
stomach to make me unaware of the messiness of winter and its effects on me
at school.

in 1st grade william was in my class and he would come to school in a suit
and tie. he dressed very nicely. he represented an aged businessman in my
mind. i believed that he knew something i didn't. the truth is probably
just that his parents thought they knew something and they proved this
knowledge by dressing him for school in a suit and tie. it was quite an
experience for me. i was probably just jealous.

he made me jealous later, too, after he left my grade school and after a few
years had passed by. i was in 6th grade and i saw him downtown at night.
it was the festival my town put on called "on the
waterfront" and he was dressed in a leather jacket, jeans, and a tshirt. i
probably thought he had a tattoo too, but he was only in 6th grade.

something had happened to him, because he wasn't at my school anymore and
he no longer dressed in a suit and tie. he was the only person my age i
had ever seen who had gone from a suit and tie to a leather jacket. he
looked tough, but i knew that he used to wear the business outfit his
parents dressed him in.

i was better than him, though my mother still bought my clothes, because i
hadnt changed. i hadn't gone from one fashion to another. i remained with
the same crowd he had been a part of when he wore his suit and tie. i was
still wearing my jeans and tshirt, and i was still with the crowd. he was
with some people who probably did screwy, bad things.

i should have known that he wasn't cut out for the suit and tie way of life
when i realized that he wasnt a very good speller. he couldnt add very
well either back in 1st grade. he had some problems with addition and he
ended up wearing a leather jacket and hanging out with a different element.
maybe he knew something i didn't. i wonder if i know it now.

im probably still with the same crowd and even though i pick out the clothes
i wear now, and i can add and i spell words well, but i'm probably one of
the only members of my group who even remembers william. or emma.

emma had an old woman's name and that karma shaped her being. she was an
old woman who was in 1st grade. she already had some sort of raspy voice
and talked like she had seen the world. she was from california or
minnesota or some other large state that i hadn't been to. she wore
clothes
that an old woman would have worn, clothes that her mother or father
dressed her in. her mother or father also decided to name her "emma".

once emma began to dress herself she probably developed into the character
of a gothic girl. she used to be dressed in skirts and shirts with
classically dead flower patterns on them. i'm sure she changed and began
wearing black clothing with undead flower patterns. and maybe she had acne
too, a problem that i never had to face.

now that i think about it, these old memory-people, william and emma, both
were given classic names and were dressed in classic fashion. i've always
been distinctly part of the present, even if i develop my own present by
stealing from the past.

like what's wrong with having a classic relationship today? what's wrong
with having a guy take care of his girl? in a classical world, the girl
wouldn't have a job, and wouldn't have money, so the guy would take care of
her by buying her food and drink and movie ticket.

nowadays the girls all have their problems which they've been trained to
believe their guy has no ability to help resolve. problems may shape the
person you are, but they also take away from the greater shape in which
you've been created. people weren't made to exist as a problemy glob.
they've got other function, you know. so let's get rid of the
deconstructive problems and live on constructive functions.

i live in a house that was built with the idea that it would stand for as
long as it possibly could. but during the process of its construction,
certain accidental imperfections entered its foundation and frame. each
one of these imperfections take life away from the house and as time goes
on, the house will be decreasingly able to serve its function as a house.
each person who has lived in the house has created and produced additional
faults in it.

these imperfections may remain and fester, and the house may tremble and
fall down earlier than its designers had intended. or these faults may be
repaired, the house will be a functional shelter
for a healthier amount of time.

but thats enough about my house, i'm sure. the house next door is much
worse because it had some substance and spouse abusers living in it. if
you can't take care of yourself or your loved one, theres little hope for
the survival of your house. luckily the house is made of metal and even if
the inside is torn to shreds, the general structure will remain for someone
else to come in and repair. that's what we hope will happen at least. we
dont want more abusive people to move in and destroy the house further.
whenever those jerks living in the house next door would scream at each
other and do drugs and beat each other and yell at their kids and trash
their furniture, we would feel less comfortable with ourselves. it's hard
to be stuck next to a house full of that many problems. at least it didn't
make us trash our house. we're not that easily impressionable.

you know what gets me? the father-husband-man of that household would
always be paranoid that my mother was looking out of our window at his
house. maybe she was doing this because she wanted to watch our property
value go down every hour because of the way he treated his family and his
house. maybe she was worried about the man's tendency to always be
abusive. or maybe she was looking at the weather.

either way, he called a local radio station to complain about how his
neighbor, the alderman, was always looking in his windows. the radio
station didn't seem to care and maybe even understood why she did this. my
mother had the tact to not call the radio station right back and explain
her position. she didn't publically denounce the way this man lived his
life. at the time, it seemed to me like she should have called. i thought
that she should have defended herself by explaniing to the radio
station and its listeners that our neighbor was an alcoholic drug addict who
beat his wife, yelled at his kids, and played loud music late at night in
his metal house. now i think that she probably made the right decision by
not calling. let him trash his house if he wants. let him be jealous of
my mother and the functional way she maintains her house.

i spend most of my time in the basement of my house and have lived like that
for years. i used to have all my toys spread out across the sparsely
furnished floor. i had so much room to play with my legos and my baseball
cards and my nintendo games. sometimes they'd all be out at the same time
because i'd get tired of my legos and get out my baseball cards without
putting the legos away. i knew i'd come back to them soon. and then i'd
get out my nintendo games when i got tired of the baseball cards,
leaving the baseball cards out, and there would be a big mess. then my mom
would come downstairs and pick my mess up off the floor, and everything
would end up in the wrong place. she messed up my complete set of 1988
Topps by doing that. man.


----

ŠÕÕª .-.
Š»ÕÕÕº Šª Š»ÕÕÕÕº ŠÕª ŠŠÕÕÕÕÕÕÕª | | this was an
†† †† †† ŠÕª † † †ÕՆ ††† | | honestly bad
†»ÕÕÕº †† †† † † ŠÕÕÕՆՆ † † ††† | | time-waster
†† †† †† † † † † † † † †»ÕÕÕÕÕÕÕº | | email-box
†† ŠÕÕÕÕÕª †ŠÕÕª † † † † † † »»» | | filler
»º »ÕÕÕÕÕº »»ÕÕºÕº »ÕÕÕÕ»Õº »ÕÕº »»ÕÕÕÕÕÕÕº | | from
.----------------------------------------------------------| | trilobyte
`----------------------------------------------------------`-'
flodis / flowers of disruption #7 / 24.07.99 / trilobyte@hoe.nu
tell your friends to blow a mind with flodis

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