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Fucked Up College Kids File 298
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= F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. =
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Dry, Emotionless, Random Gripes
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I am sitting here watching the sun come up. I have been up for a day now,
and will be up all day today. See, my body clock is fucked up. And the
more I tried to correct it, the worse it got. I should be on East Coast
time; I am on Tokyo time. I just left the west coast. Extreme measures
have to be taken at this point.
My mind is blank...a GREAT time to be writing a fucking text file. >:(
I really shouldn't say it is blank. I have lots of my mind. I am in love.
She loves me. We live 2700 miles apart. The frequent flier miles are great.
We may not see each other as much as we like, but we talk on the phone
constantly. That's the great thing about being a phreak when you're in
love with someone on the opposite coast from you. You don't have to worry
about any phone bills. Can anyone say "800-redirect?"
Enough of her. It pisses the other her off. She doesn't want to hear about
my love interest. She rolls her eyes at the mere mention of her name. It's
not like we're fucking and she has a right to be jealous. I don't even know
this woman. It's an e-mail thing. Not a fling, a thing. She sends me these
huge e-mails telling me this or that, asking me this or that. She asks, she
gets, she bitches. Go figure. She feels like she owns a piece of me. We've
never even met.
Mailing lists suck. See, I admin a list if you don't already know. Fucking
Area 51 invasion plans that make less sense than Carolyn Meinel's reason
for existence. Whiny female discrimination conspiracies. New AOL subscribers
joining the list like we were giving away free money or something. A flood
of one-line responses CC'd to the whole world and back. Nothing of substance.
Infowar goes batshit. The NCSA goes batshit. Happy Hackers goes batshit. All
of this makes me wanna go batshit.
Moved into my second apartment this morning. It's a really cool place, but
it is fucking trashed. Dirty walls, dirty floors, dirty everything. Nothing
a flame thrower can't fix. Once I clean it up, which I have to, because the
previous tenant was a lazy fucking loser, it will be a really cool place.
But what to do with all these boxes? I hate unpacking.
Club scene sucks these days. San Francisco used to rock with the best night
club scene in the world. They are all gone now. Only one remains...Bondage
Au GoGo. And even that sucks now. Shitty music, too many frat boys trying
to see some tit, and everyone complaining about shit best termed "personal
club politics." Get a life. Someone has a problem with someone else, and
it becomes a drama for the whole staff to talk about for weeks. Like I
give a fuck. I am there to get drunk. Besides, the gorgeous chick bartender
wants me desperately. Been this way for months. I am always gone flying
somewhere. I haven't been there recently. She will be disappointed I am
in love. I don't care either way. Apathy.
Binary schizophrenia has consumed me. I spend a whole night in front of a
computer and accomplish nothing. Go figure. Are these machines really a
productivity gainer? I spent all night typing and didn't accomplish a
fucking thing. About all I care about now is e-mail. This is one fucking
hell of an expensive machine to read e-mail with. I don't care. Even if I
was stupid enough to spend the money for a glorified e-mail reader, my
computer is still better than yours.
I don't care about hacking. I do, but not in the public sense. This made
me realize that hacking is definitely a private pursuit, and should be kept
that way. Public exchange of ideas is bullshit. There are no ideas out
there. Only lamers looking to send you useless e-mail. There should be no
lists. There should be nothing but private pursuit of knowledge and a
friendly exchange with those who know. No one is gonna help you become a
hacker. If you can't realize this, you suck already and never would have
made it anyway. Go weave a basket.
"Hackers bust into military Internet site!" So what? Who cares? The only
people who care are the same people trying to sell you a solution that
doesn't work. They are the ones telling you the headlines in the first
place. Security doesn't exist. Therefore, no industry built around it
should exist. It's a fraud. We all know it. They all know it. But they do
it anyway. People bug me.
I want peace. I want to pursue my relationship and take it somewhere the
white trash relationships of today never go. I have an enormous amount of
free time without having to worry about a job or money. I would like to
capitalize on this time and invest it in her, thereby having it pay
dividends back to me. And when she is off attending to her patients, I
will relax and read a book and learn something. Or pop in a relaxing CD
and lounge around. Then she will come home.
But doesn't she live 2700 miles away? If you haven't figured out that my
new place is with her, then you haven't been paying attention. Or maybe
it is because I am not coherent due to lack of sleep. But at least I can
still spell better than you. I now live on both coasts. Didn't I say enough
about talking of her earlier? Am I talking about her right now? God I need
sleep. Fifteen more hours to go for me.
What's my point here? There is no point. Random gripes. Random, pointless
gripes. I had to get it out. I wanted to torment you by forcing you to read
them. I will send this off to Dis now. Dis. One of the few decent guys left.
I haven't been around much to shoot the shit with him as much as I would
like. This one's for you Dis. Don't ask why. I don't know the answer.
-se7en
4/12/97
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