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The Neo-Comintern 188
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s u b v e r s i v e l i t e r a t u r e f o r
s u b v e r t e d p e o p l e
f e b r u a r y 3 r d , 2 0 0 2
e d i t o r - b m c
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w r i t e r s :
m a r g a r i n a c a t a c l y s m a
b m c
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A Letter From France
by Margarina Cataclysma
Rock Bottom
by BMC
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e d i t o r ' s n o t e
- - - - ---==={PLEASE DO NOT READ THE FOLLOWING!}===--- - - - -
tap-ta-tap-tap-tap-ta-tap-tap-tiggy-tiggy-tap-ta-tap-tap-tap-tiggitty-tap
From the depths of France, Margarina Cataclysma has managaed to send a
message to her adoring Neo-Comintern readers. Unortunately, I believe
there has been a mix-up and that we got the wrong letter through some sort
of unlucky error. Nevertheless, the letter is here for your reading
pleasure, and it is my sincere hope that someone somewhere in Paris,
reading a letter to N-Com readers, decides (for some reason) to offer
Margarina a job.
And that's all I have to say. I'm tapdancing my way out of here!
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A LETTER FROM FRANCE
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Merchant,
Archetypical Petty-Bourgeois,
Parasite upon PURE THOUGHT,
I salute you, you without knowledge of what circumstances contrived to put
us each in our respective places,
To my detriment, and possibly to your great dismay, but also possibly not,
I am without a valid working Visa, here in France. However, and this is
the crucial point, my ineligibility to work does not imply unwillingness
to work. In fact, I am eager, and it is for this reason I am writing you
now.
I should like to begin with a discussion of my assets; that is to say, the
skills I possess, by which your firm might profit. My early years (by
which I mean the years prior to this year) were spent in Canada. I have a
facile and fluid grasp of all the English languages, which, as you must
know, are spoken by all denizens of the illustrious Commonwealth, as well
as residents of the American republic and refined souls everywhere.
Indeed, English has become something of a lingua franca. My French,
however, is rotten (although, as you must know, this tongue is also spoken
amongst many Canadians including, shamefully, my own family, who
detestably neglected to instruct me in the Arts of this dialect). When I
say rotten, I mean improving by leaps and bounds, and in fact I intend
that your customers, should you give me the privilege, will aid my
progress. Of course language is the most rudimentary skill -- merely a
clumsy means of making contact with the eternal values of the mind -- and
I shall speak no more of it.
It is no exaggeration to say that I am exceedingly well read, yet have
never wasted my time reading when I could be out of doors. Moreover, I am
a partisan of intellectual coöperation. Hugo wrote: "sous la forme
imprimée, la pensée est impérissable, volatile, indestructible. Du temps
de l'architecture, elle se faisait montagne, maintenant elle se fait
troupe d'oiseaux, s'éparpille aux quatre vents, occupe tous les points de
l'espace. On peut démolir une masse, non extirper l'ubiquité. Vienne le
déluge, la montagne disparaît, mais les oiseaux volent encore." I am the
four winds, scattering the little birds of wisdom, while I fear you are
the mountain, rained on.
In terms of the more mundane aspects of this job, I have full
comprehension of the alphabetical system of organization. I also have
some numeracy, and if occasion or whim demands I make fabulous graphs,
including those with multiple coördinate axes. I do not expect you to
make full use of my talents. On my previous visit I observed disorderly
piles of hastily written pulps; the improbable persistence of these
intemperate conditions, especially in view of property values in this
Sodom and the flaccidity of your so-called customer base -- all this
convinces me that you cannot expect very much from your employees.
Indeed, not being familiar with persons of my caliber, you can have no
basis for expecting more than the most mongreloid [by which I mean a
canine of uncertain parentage] fumblings.
It must be apparent by now that my skills are incomparable. Therefore, it
remains only to negotiate a salary. It might well be tolerable to sit
with you, crazy eights or whatever it is that you do to while away your
time, all the while pulling in 'triple digits'. Probably, it is
unreasonable of me to expect, dream, such glory. I daresay, if permitted
some hours amongst your aging bestsellers, I would be content to remove
one or two, liberating space for the more erudite titles I will suggest,
thus reviving the public's flagging interest in your stock. As you can
see, my purpose is multiplicitous.
Do not insult me with more questions on related topics. If you remain
curious, but find yourself unable to infer what little other information
you might like to have, remember that in fact I am merely seeking
employment. Do not for an instant entertain fantasies that I might assist
in the production of tedious offspring that you may or may not dream of
installing in this dim world, later to infect them with your obviously
peculiar brand of nightmare.
Prepare yourself for my visit, perhaps by clearing your agenda in the
afternoon of Tuesday week, and we shall have a brief conference. Do not
trouble yourself about the exact hour since prescience is impossible in
these matters.
(I am not yet sufficiently acquainted with you to have settled on an
appropriate closing. Until then, I remain,)
Margarina Cataclysma
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ROCK BOTTOM
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He stopped for a moment as he opened the small door. He looked around,
saw the slurpee machine, the rows of chips and chocolate bars,
advertisements plastered on the walls, and the clerk behind the counter.
He scanned for familiar faces, saw none, and committed himself to that
most heinous act.
He put the styrofoam cup in the door, closed it, and pressed the one
minute button.
As he gazed in to see the cup of noodles on the rotating plate, he caught
his own reflection in the glass. He turned away quickly, unable to stand
the sight of himself. He had once been a chef, but after the convenience
store opened up next to the restaurant he worked in, business was slow and
they had to lay him off. Now, in a final twist of irony, he had spent his
last dollar in the very store that had ruined his life.
When his supper was ready, he unwrapped the plastic fork, preparing to eat
what would be his last meal.
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The Neo-Comintern Magazine / Online Magazine is seeking submissions.
Unpublished stories and articles of an unusual, experimental, or
anti-capitalist nature are wanted. Contributors are encouraged to
submit works incorporating any or all of the following: Musings, Delvings
into Philosophy, Flights of Fancy, Freefall Selections, and Tales of
General Mirth. The more creative and astray from the norm, the better.
For examples of typical Neo-Comintern writing, see our website at
<http://www.neo-comintern.com>.
Submissions of 25-4000 words are wanted; the average article length is
approximately 200-1000 words. Send submissions via email attachment to
<bmc@neo-comintern.com>, or through ICQ to #29981964.
Contributors will receive copies of the most recent print issue of The
Neo-Comintern; works of any length and type will be considered for
publication in The Neo-Comintern Online Magazine and/or The Neo-Comintern
Magazine.
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___________________________________________________
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|___________________________________________________|
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| Questions? Comments? Submissions? |
| Email BMC at bmc@neo-comintern.com |
|___________________________________________________|
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c o p y r i g h t 2 0 0 2 b y #188-02/03/02
t h e n e o - c o m i n t e r n
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