Copy Link
Add to Bookmark
Report
Ink Sludge 01
the creators of the aCtIoN 'zine and TIAOTKFS magazine bring you...
IIIIII NNNN NN KK KK SSSS LL UU UU DDD GGGG EEEEE
II NN NN NN KK KK SS LL UU UU DD D GG G EE
II NN NNNN KKKK SSSSS LL UU UU DD D GG EEEE
II NN NNN KK KK SS LL UU UU DD D GG GG EE
IIIIII NN NN KK KK SSSSS LLLLL UUUU DDD GGG G EEEEEE
MaGaZiNe
the magazine that spews ink into your head
Volume No. 1.0
Issue No. 1.0
May 4th, 1996, time for everybody to fall in love.
====================================================================~
In this issue of INK SLUDGE
.............................
The aCtIoN zine & TIAOTKFS merger - the intro
FAVORITE - My favorite
CD Review - the Rentals & Alice in Chains
UNLAWFUL POETIC DEVICES ACT 1997, SECTION XIII, CLAUSE 61
MY SO-CALLED WIFE BEATER - hmmmm
SO MUCH DEPENDS ON THE WEATHER (#009) - The Adventures of Scott
DEATH AND DYING - Talking With Dennis
WRITERS, BACK ISSUES, COPYRIGHTS and OTHER INFO - Well?
====================================================================~
The aCtIoN zine & TIAOTKFS merger - the intro
...............................................
It was friday, around 4:00 in the after I was listening
to my new Alcie in Chains CD and i decided to call my pal/cousin/
fellow eziner editor - Mark or as the people of the internet
know him; WI'died.
Mark was sick that day and didn't go to school, so i relayed
the days events to him. We slowly went onto the subject of ezines.
He was at a lack of articles and so was I. We noticed that in the past
little while, so many ezines had begun to sprout from all over the
earth.
He was about to give up with aCtIoN zine and then it struck
me - a merger! Let's combine our two zines to create a bigger and
better one, more subscribers, more writters, more everything!
So here you sit/stand/jog/crawl/hang and read the combination
INK SLUDGE! So to the people of the INK SLUDGE world, read on...
by: Drew (holmesad@nbnet.nb.ca)
====================================================================~
FAVORITE
..........
slipping sliding
Jonny's whining
Careful watchful
What a handful
Up an at'em
In the bathroom
Don't forget me
Have to pee-pee
Sailor Andrew
What do you do?
Corey Flower
You have the power
Johnny's coming
Slowly riding
Down the hall
Watch and he'll fall
He'll cut his head
He might be dead
Johnny you are dandy
But can't you be more like Andy?
Andrew's nice, Andrew's tall
We just like to watch you fall
You're not pretty, you're not friendly
Andrew pets the dog so gently.
"Andrew's my brother
And you're my mother
You're supposed to love both,
Not one or the other"
by: Rach (boult@Islandnet.com)
====================================================================~
CD Review
..........
This week the I review:
The Return of the Rentals - the Rentals & Alice in Chains - Alice in Chains
The highest a CD can recieve is 5 stars!
Album: The Reurn of the Rentals
Artist: the Rentals
# of songs: 10
Pump up the Moogs it's the Rentals. It's their debut CD and it
rocks. For all those who are getting tired of all the guitar-rawk nirvana
wannabes the Rentals is for you. It's new music.
Matt Sharp (leadsinger/bass/moog) finacide the entire album out
of his own pocket with no intention of ever giving it to a record company.
Eventually somehow Maverick records got a hold of a DAT copy and they liked
it.
For those of you are unaware Matt Sharp is the bassist for Weezer.
Matt says Weezer are not going to break-up contary to popular belief,
he'll be in both bands and the Rentals is NOT is little "side-project".
Now onto talking about the actual music. There is a good chance
you've heard the first single "friends of P." and maybe the second "waiting"
and if you liked them then you'll love the album. I'm not saying that it's
one of those "every song sounds" the same records, because it is not.
It's packed with awesome songs like "move on" which I interpret
about living in a town/city that who very much dislike, such as my own.
A real good record and definetly recomend it so i give it:
* * * * 1/2
4 and 1/2 stars!
Album: Alice in Chains
Artist: Alice in Chains
# of songs: 12
Like songs with an average around 6 minutes? If you think "Those
are too long and boring!" then you're wrong because there is nothing
boring about the wicked guitar of Jerry Cantrell and the stunning vocals
of Layne Stanley mixed with Mike Inez's hard bass and Sean Kinney's
druming.
Grind, Head Creeps, Heaven Beside you only begin to name the rocking
good tunes on this record. What else can i say? Alice in Chains are back and
here to stay!
I'm being very generous with my stars this week, but I don't feel
bad to give it:
* * * *
4 stars!
by: Drew (holmesad@nbnet.nb.ca)
====================================================================~
UNLAWFUL POETIC DEVICES ACT 1997, SECTION XIII, CLAUSE 61
...........................................................
Do time in prison
For minimalism
by: Adam Barnard, (c) 1996
====================================================================~
MY SO-CALLED WIFE BEATER
.........................
I just cracked a guy's skull open for speaking jibberish. He was
singing something from "meet me in St. Louis", and I snapped. Randy Savage
flew out of the ceiling, knocking over many light fixtures in the process,
to promote his favorite brand of processed cow intestine strips. Snap into
it, my butt. Thanks a lot, man. Anyway, Mr. St. Louis saw the angered look
in my eyes, and started whimpering like a baby, asking Buddah to help him
through his pain. I hadn't even touched him yet. I grabbed a can of
Alberto VO5 mousse, spraying it into his eyes like a primative form of mace
that would also style hair. He fell backwards, into a fountain. This was
no ordinary fountain, however. As he fell backwards, the world magically
changed from the normal world into something like that which we know and
love as a Dairy Queen commercial, with chocolate rivers and chocolate syrup
rivers. He fell into the river, almost being crushed by a giant pecan, as I
proceeded to urinate wildly all over his lame body. He got up and flung a
fudge chunk at my head, which I dodged and countered with some crushed Heath
bar chunks. The Heath bar chunk lodged in the left side of his skull,
rendering him impotent and helpless. He fell to the ground, bleeding
chocolate. For my coup de grace, I pulled out my Mr. Misty blaster, and
covered him in a freezing pile of grape flavored slush. Don't mess with me,
man. I'm no Red Dog, but I'll still mess you up.
SHAFT lives on in my bones. I am living, breathing funk.
by: Greg Monkey (monkey@inf.net)
====================================================================~
SO MUCH DEPENDS ON THE WEATHER (#009) - The Adventures of Scott
................................................................
"We are all alone." Pea said to Esac througth
the wire mesh screen "I wake up reach over and touch my boyfriend
he's there, he may even be awake, he can hear me as i get out
of bed and as i get dressed i look at my body in the mirror."
Pea paused he knew what he was saying to Esac would not
make her hapier, but he had to tell her the truth. "I'm alone,
your alone. God, there is the so called "answer" to our lonliness.
But he's not. He's the thing people make because they can't accept
the fact that they are alone. God is my sheperd? no, god is their
Santa Claus."
He again paused and looked at Esac she was their listening
to everyword, her dirty brown hair drooped on her shoulders and onto
her dull grey prison suit. Pea continued "...and who are they? Nobody.
the people that say what is right and what is wrong. But only people
that are wrong are the people that believe in them. But in the
end it bears down to, there are no people, just persons, and we are
all alone."
"You're smart Pea." Esac said as she smiled, a tear rolled
down her cheek.
The prison guard called her name, she took one last look
at Pea, and then as she was once again alone.
by: Drew (holmesad@nbnet.nb.ca)
====================================================================~
DEATH AND DYING: Talking With Dennis
......................................
My friend tried to kill himself.
It was last year when he was going to Catholic Central and I was going to
Canton. He made a noose and tied it to the rafter in his basement and got
on a chair and put it around his neck and knocked the chair out from under him.
The rafter broke though, and he came crashing to the floor, landing on his
back, and around him fell fragments of the cheap rafter with the "Made in
America" label on it whose shoddy construction saved his life.
The thing is, and this is what gets me, I didn't know about it, in fact I
didn't find out until nearly a year later. Some friend huh?
I shouldn't say that though, you see it's not entirely my fault I didn't
know, or at least suspect something was wrong because he hid it well, and he
was at a different school, and we were having a fight at the time, or at
least HE was.
I first met Dennis in the hallways of Our Lady of Good Council one Saturday
afternoon in second grade.
My mom was in the church guitar group (and still is) and while she
practiced with them for the five o'clock mass in an empty classroom, I
freely roamed the halls, amused at the fact that I could run without
repercussions from nosey teachers.
As it happened, Dennis was there too because his mother was playing in the
guitar group that day. Apparently she didn't like it though because she
never came back.
Anyway, while he was there, Dennis taught me the art of sliding across the
smooth hallway floor and explained that the reason the floor was so warm was
because there were underground tunnels of lava that supplied heat to the
world.
An hour later, when chatter replaced the loud guitar music coming from down
the hall, we knew it was time to go, and I introduced Dennis to my mother as
my new best friend.
He started going to OLGC when I was in third grade and again we were good
friends, this time for years instead of a day.
At recess there were clusters (or perhaps cliches is a better term) of
people running around dressed appropriately in blue shirts and navy blue
pants with dress shoes and short hair.
In third grade there were THOSE WHO PLAYED SOCCER and THOSE WHO DID NOT,
the latter being outcasts, or so went the social structure of my third grade
class.
Incidentally, I didn't play soccer, nor did Dennis, or George P., or David
T., or Chris S., for that matter.
The social structure was then divided even further. Dennis, David, George,
Chris, and I tended to wander aimlessly around while Sam W. and Nick Y.
could be seen running around, back and forth with their arms extended as if
they were airplanes, they were just pretending of course, as third graders do.
In the summer, Dennis and I hung out together, and he came over a lot. My
dog Bossy, whose dead now, must have bitten Dennis ten times before he
finally refused to come over for fear of an eleventh.
So I went to his house to play and was amazed at his vast collection of
Transformers and Go Bots and immediately set out to collect them all too, I
only got as far as Optimus Prime and Bumble Bee though, when fourth grade
came and I lost interest.
Fourth grade...that was the year I said Chris S. had no brain and had to
put my name on the board.
I recall later in the year, the last day in fact, I told Chris not to kill
anyone and haven't seen or heard from him since...I wonder what's become of
that boy.
At any rate, fifth grade came, and although Dennis and I were still good
friends, I started hanging out with Marc A. and we cheated on math together.
Our motto was, "If you can't do it, screw it!" Which we thoroughly applied
to ALL our homework.
He went to TAG in sixth grade though and I hung out with Dennis again.
In seventh grade we both joined Young Astronauts and decided that we wanted
to be astronauts. We built model rockets and looked into space camp (though
neither of us went) and in eighth grade went to Chicago (with Young
Astronauts) for a day.
While we were there, Dennis was running towards a revolving door, trying to
make it in, and he got stuck, half of him outside the building and half of
him inside the revolving door. They had to back it up to get him out and
everyone was laughing and he had the wind knocked out of him. He was just
sitting there gasping for air, it was the funniest thing I ever saw.
Eighth grade was the last year at OLGC, and considering what OLGC was, it
was a pretty cool year. It was when I first started writing, and it flew by
pretty fast. The whole year was in preparation for Confirmation, which,
since I don't believe in God, was the worst and most be-littling night of my
life, compounded by the fact that my dad didn't even show up, it wasn't his
fault though because I forgot to invite him.
I had to swallow everything I believed in and stand up in front of everyone
I knew and swear that I believed in God and would be a good Christian. It
was either that and go to public high school, or refuse and go to Catholic
Central. I had decided long before that, that if forced into CC, I would
kill myself, which makes it a little easier to understand what Dennis went
through, but I went through with the Confirmation, as it was better than
death, or so I'm told.
After Confirmation, Dennis, Marc A., David and I all sat around a table
talking. Marc remember didn't go there, he just came to watch us get
confirmed.
Anyway, after that, during the summer, I hung out at Dennis's house and one
day I got a disk in the mail boasting, "Ten free hours of America Online."
Dennis was the only one with a computer so I figured he might want it, and
since it was my disk, I figured I could weasel my way into some of those
hours.
He entered my name and address, and his dad's account number, and we hacked
America Online. It was pretty cool actually. We went around to the
different chat rooms insulting people and the like and kept getting messages
saying, "You are in violation of AOL TOS."
We didn't know what the hell "TOS" meant but later we found out it was
"Terms Of Service." It was funny actually because it turns out we had broken
every single rule that America Online has, and later Dennis got kicked off .
That wasn't the problem though. The problem was that Dennis told me there
was going to be a bill of $10.00 sent to my house and that I was going to
have to pay it.
I said I wouldn't pay because he shouldn't have used my address and he got
his friend to stalk me. Which I might add, he did an excellent job of and
will make a fine social deviant when he grows up. Consider this a letter of
recommendation, if ever you need someone followed, harassed, or otherwise
tormented, ask Nick G.
Incidentally the bill never came, but Nick stalked me anyway and Dennis and
I stopped talking.
He was at Catholic Central, I was at Canton, and that was just fine with
both of us.
Then, this year, Dennis transferred to Canton too, and one day, since the
tensions between me and Nick had died down, I approached him and simply
asked, "Are we friends?"
He chuckled and said, "I guess."
Then the next day he called me and we talked for a while and now we're
friends again.
That's not the point of this article though because there's more.
In Journalism, a few weeks ago, we got an assignment to do a feature story
about anything. I was searching for ideas when, in a telephone
conversation, Dennis's friend Kim mentioned that he'd tried suicide.
I was stunned.
I decided to do an interview with Dennis about why he tried to kill himself
and have that be the article.
I interviewed him, and wrote the story, I called it "Death and dying;
talking with Dennis." It was a really (place expletive here) article though,
and when it came time to print it in Ink Sludge I decided to re-write
it...hence this.
I feel it necessary to, at this point note, that it has been, if memory
serves, three months since the last paragraph was written, in which time
several seemingly trivial yet surprisingly noteworthy events have taken
place. However, before I even consider diving, or for that matter wading
into even the least detailed account of these events, I shall, at the fervent
request of my editor, tell you as best I can, why Dennis tried suicide in the
first place, and then, in the interest of taking up as little space as
possible, (and indeed not boring you all to death) wrap it up, in, what looks
at present, to be an angry, yet grammatically mottled, sigh of relief.
Anyway...I interviewed Dennis and he told me of his troubles. I haven't
the strength, nor the will, to translate our conversation into well rounded,
structured paragraphs. I could, I realize, but I really don't feel like it.
Besides, if I were to editorialize the interview itself, I would, in effect,
be putting words into his mouth, and I most certainly don't want to do that.
I present instead, a short part of our talk, printed verbatim, explaining
some of the reasons for his un-successful attempt at death.
M: You tried to kill yourself four times is that right?
D: No, it was three.
M: Three times?
D: Yeah.
M: Why?
D: I don't know, just a general feeling that everything sucks, there's
nothing you can do...nothing to live for.
M: Why not?
D: Because there isn't. You have a feeling that everybody's against you,
you're the only one...you wish that the whole world...um...like, nobody cares
about you. You're going to do crappy in life anyway so why bother living it?
M: Why do you think that?
D: Well I don't think that now, I used to though.
M: Why did you then?
D: At the time, nothing seemed to be going right.
M: Did you think about your family?
D: No.
M: What it would do to them?
D: I don't care about them.
M: What about your friends?
D: I don't care.
M: You don't care about your friends?
D: I don't care what would happen after I die.
M: You don't care about what it would do to them at all?
D: No.
There's more of course, but I'm just not up to typing it all out, I'll
leave it instead, to the imaginative reader, to simply fill in the blanks.
by: Mark Stewart (Text486@aol.com)
====================================================================~
WRITERS, BACK ISSUES, COPYRIGHTS and OTHER INFO
.................................................
Adam Barnard - kurt_kobain@delphi.com
Greg Monkey - monkey@inf.net
Mark Stewart - Text486@aol.com
Rach (babe) - boult@Islandnet.com
Drew (editor) - holmesad@nbnet.nb.ca
Writer's note: Mark Stewart is publisher of Ruford Lives On Pluto
and can be reached at Text486@aol.com for subscription info.
And you could too! Just send a letter to holmesad@nbnet.nb.ca
Ordering back issues
--------------------
Send a message to either 'holmesm@nbnet.nb.ca' or holmesad@nbnet.nb.ca'
with the subject 'BACK ISSUE' then inside indicate which issues you want
by stating the numbers. Simple, eh?
INK SLUDGE is a copyright of the INK SLUDGE people.
------------------------------------------------
If you use any of the material in this issue or any of the
material in any INK SLUDGE magazine without consent of
the person who wrote the article, you will be prosecuted to the
fullest extent of the law. So don't rip off the people of INK
SLUDGE unless you like fat sweaty guys named Big Jimmy.
See you, in issue 2!
############################################################################
