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The Hogs of Entropy 0968
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$$$ by -> Basehead $$$
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$$$ [ HOE E-Zine #968 -- 12/16/99 -- http://www.hoe.nu ] .,$$$
`"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""'
When you get an itch, it doesn't go away quickly. Not even when
the deeds done. Ask me seven different times and you'll get seven
different answers. It's a trip, man! In the back of your mind, that's
what takes up that little space. Like the part of your back you can't
scratch, even with a back-scratcher.
So now what?
It's on to a life of this nonsense, I suppose. Moaning and
wailing, not quite escaping some basic facts about the situation. It
happening again and again until you wonder: How long will they let this
slide? A long time. And that doesn't go a long way when it comes to
helping YOU out. Regurgitating reasons back into your head is easy when
you're free and clear. What about that day in the future, with the big
billowing black cloud over it? Maybe that day, it's not so easy.
But that's then, this is NOW.
I know what you're saying, and it's understandable. There's a lot
of different angles here. But what really matters? Will you figure it
out in time? When is the end of the line, and what's your play until
then? Live every day as if it was your last. No, every second. That's
pretty good advice, even if you weren't you, and you hadn't done what you
did. Shit, is there anything I can tell you that isn't therapist
gobbledygook? Well, I can tell you this: These bars don't budge, and
the bathrooms here reek of shit and piss, unsurprisingly.
You're younger than I am. Not sure if that matters, but let's say
it does. I could say you've got your whole life ahead of you, but you
don't really. Your whole life is actually behind you. You became you
before you read your first Classic Novel. No, the 'whole life' you have
ahead of you is no sure thing at all. You've got _A_ life ahead of you,
but it could end in five minutes. I could end it in five minutes. You
can quote me on that.
I don't want to disappoint you. I wish there were juicy things to
tell. I'm sorry my daddy didn't shove his cock in my mouth when i was
six. That's _kind of_ what you want to hear, I think. I could have a
field day with fabrications. Fornications. Charades where I stomp
around angrily, mimicking illicit sex acts by sliding my finger in and
out of a hole made with my other hand. You could deduce a whole page
full of nonsense about that. I don't believe in Benefits of Doubts,
though. I don't believe it would be taken as a good-natured poke at my
supposed 'archetype.' No, I got nothing but love from day one. Nothing
but love. You can draw a big fucking heart at the top of the page if you
want.
I made it sound like seeing death around you was easy, but it
isn't. Sometimes you cry, sometimes you don't. Depends on your mood I
guess. Like I said, I wish there was a whole lot more to tell. The
'Instruments Of Darkness' were simple household items, and the meetings
were pretty standard chance encounters. I don't know what you want from
me, really. When I get an itch, I have to scratch it. And sometimes
there's only one way.
I'm a model citizen in every way but one.
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[ (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #968, BY BASEHEAD - 12/16/99 ]
