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The Neo-Comintern 204
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The Neo-Comintern Electronic Magazine -- Installment Number 204
.... .. . . . . . . . . . . . . .. ....
`""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""'
Subversive Literature for Subverted People
Date: June 9, 2002
Editor: BMC
Writers: Heckat
Gnarly Wayne
d""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""b.
;P Featured in this installment: .b
$ $
$ Black Fairies Have All The Fun - Heckat $
$ A Good Day to Dye - Gnarly Wayne $
`q p'
`nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn'
EDITOR'S NOTE
(please do not read the following)
A perfectly petty afternoon seethes about us. We think of our choices for
the future, pretend to weigh the good of the self against the good of the
other, and finally side with the self. The other, after all, can be
ignored - isn't that correct, my friend? As your best friends rob, steal
and commit crimes insincere, where do you fit into this world? As far as
I can see, there are only two options. The first of these is vengeance and
malice, the second is the inward voyage into the hiding place which is the
human mind. There is a third choice, of course, but perhaps that should
be saved for another day. Today's not the day for self-confrontation or
honesty or dealing with the pain, the anguish, the solitude that is the
essence of all human relationships. So once again, lay this issue down
on the table and do with it what you wish.
,o$o
o$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$Y$$$$b
d$$$' ` `$$b
d$$' Black Fairies Have All the Fun ,$$
$$: by Heckat ,$P
`$n,.. . . . . . . . . . . . . ..P'
`"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""'
You come dressed for Hallowe'en in traditional garb: one pair of wings
covered in black feathers, one black halo. The halo was a simple affair
(styrofoam and spray paint) but the wings were another matter. When you
made them it took you weeks. Weeks of luring ravens home with the shiny
white pearls your grandmother left you when she died. Weeks of laying
traps and setting snares. Weeks of breaking tiny frightened necks and
smashing small skulls on rocks. Oh, your fingers are still bleeding from
plucking out the feathers one by one, but it was worth it.
You strut into the castle, expecting to surprise everyone into a serious
fright, but instead of a Hallowe'en party, you stumble into the new
princess's baptism. Silence, dead silence. It takes a moment to
register that you aren't invited, and then your rejection complex sets
in. You decide to stick around a while, play it cool, only everyone's
staring at your hands. You make it to after-dinner drinks without too
much of a fuss. Each guest has waved their polite hello to you and
quickly moved away. Is it your fifth glass of wine? You can't remember
anymore, but suddenly the anger starts to bubble at the back of your
throat like a cauldron of magma and you absolutely lose it. Someone
(probably that sentry who spent all night in the corner) has to drag you
out kicking and screaming.
The next morning you only vaguely remember casting the curse. Head
pounding as you look in the mirror, the paranoia sets in (as it always
does when you look in that goddamn mirror) and when you go out later to
get your groceries, it feels as if everyone is staring at you. When the
King orders that every spinning wheel be removed from the empire, you
think it might be your fault but you can't say why. You think of all the
wasted wool, all the sweaters you might have sewn.
,o$o
o$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$Y$$$$b
d$$$' ` `$$b
d$$' A Good Day to Dye ,$$
$$: by Gnarly Wayne ,$P
`$n,.. . . . . . . . . . . . . ..P'
`"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""'
I was getting a haircut within a day or two and so I also decided to
dye my hair as well. I don't dye my hair often, and when I thought about
it, I could not discern as to why I did not.
I didn't dye it anything crazy, like blue or green or gold. Just a blonde
that was lighter than my natural dark blonde (I have never liked the term
'dirty blonde'. Makes me sound like I don't wash my hair or am obsessed
with sex.). While listening to some Miami bass group in the bathroom, I
looked at myself in the mirror. "Time for a new look, a new style, A NEW
WAYNE!" I screamed at myself (in my head, of course). I opened the box
and saw a jar half full of some milky liquid, two tubes (one was plastic
and the other was made out of some pliable metal), a packet that looked
the same as the packets that Neo-Citrin comes in, and a pair of crappy
plastic gloves (noted on the back of the box as "Professional Dye
Applicator Gloves").
I knew what to do with the gloves, so I put them on. I was about to read
the instructions when I suddenly cried out "The new Wayne does not need
puny instructions!" (this time I actually cried it out though). In
digust, I tossed the instructions to the side and proceeded to mix
everything together in the big bottle. Unfortunately, I happened to
glance at the writing on one of the bottles and I read the word
Conditioner. Though I do not normally use conditioner, I knew enough of
the fabled stuff to know that I should be using it later. Disappointed in
myself, I put the conditioner into the shower for later use.
After shaking the bottle for some time, I started applying the dye to the
top of my head. It was kinda of cool, but pleasant. I started working it
into my hair and then moved to lower cut sides. I had to guess as to how
much I had to put on the back since I did not have a mirror to reflect the
mirrored image of the back of my head. I still do not know if I did a
good job back there or not and no one but the closest of my friends
probably has the guts/courage/love to tell me so. They'd most likely just
prefer to make fun of me behind my back, though just the act of dying my
hair is most likely enough material to keep them back stabbing for awhile,
at least. Anyway, since I have fairly short hair (even shorter now, I had
just gotten a haircut, remember?) I totally overdid putting dye on, I
think.
I also forgot to keep track of time which did not matter anyway since I
did not read the instructions to tell me how long I should wait. I could
not leave the bathroom since I was basically naked and for some reason I
had opened the shades that day. I danced around to some Florida-grown
booty bass for awhile and then checked out my hair again. It looked more
blonde than before, but there was also a lot of white foam as well.
I got into the shower and proceeded to rise off the dye and then I
shampooed and used that "special" conditioner on it as well. I did not
know if I was suppose to shampoo or not, but my hair is pretty greasy so
I figured I had to, even though I was not going to be going anywhere that
day. As I dried off my hair, I dismissed the notion of drying off the
rest of my body. I wanted to see that hair and NOW! I looked in the
mirror and my first thought was "This is a pretty shitty blonde". It
looked more orange with some red in it. Upon further inspection, I
realized the red was actually my skin from where I had rubbed the peroxide
formula into my scalp. Suddenly, reading the instructions seemed to be a
good idea (but don't worry, I did not give in to temptation!). Relief
filled my being as the hair became drier and, hence, lighter. After
combing and playing it for awhile, I got it to the way I liked it at the
moment and thought it was an okay job.
I was to test the power of my new hair, which brings up to the scene
currently in progress. The players? Me, the girl I always sit next to in
class, and my new hair. Let us partake in what transpires.
"So, you dyed your hair, huh?"
"Yeah, of course, I was there. WHY DO YOU ALWAYS POINT OUT THE OBVIOUS?!
CAN'T YOU SEE ITS DRIVING ME MAD!?"
"*giggle* Oh Wayne, you're so fickled."
So the power of my hair was working. I could as rude and sarcastic as
I like and people would think it was cute. Several more scenes, all with
different people, came to pass.
"So, you dyed your hair, huh?"
"WHAT?!?!? Really?!? I didn't even know. Holy shit! When could that
have happened? Oh wait! I remember! It was yesterday morning, right
after I decided TO DYE MY HAIR!"
"It looks pretty good on you."
"Hey, thanks."
"So what colour is that kind of blonde?"
"Oh, why its Light Golden Sunset XLS-83783... I DON'T KNOW WHAT FUCKING
TYPE IT IS! IF I DIDN'T READ THE INSTRUCTIONS I SURE AS HELL AIN'T GOING
TO KNOW WHAT TYPE IT IS! And why do you care? What are you going to do?
Go and buy the exact same brand and type so you can get the same results?
Let me tell you something, nitwit, I saw a whole fucking wall of bloody
dye and as far I can tell from the pictures, THERE ARE ONLY THREE SHADES
OF BLONDE YOU CAN BUY ANYWAY."
"Yeah, and since I have black hair, it probably wouldn't work as well
anyway."
"How did you ever make it into university?"
"Oh Wayne, you look so totally hot with that new hair, I just want to rub
my tits all over it."
"Yeah, like I want some skanky hoe rubbing her Syphilis infected breasts
all over me. Neither me, nor the hair, needs that kind of crap in my
life. Come on, hair, let's go."
"But we're married."
"You look great today, G-Dub, I think I'll give you a raise."
"Hey, Mister Big Shot, if you're going to give anyone a raise, it should
be the hair."
"I'll add it to the payroll."
"Word."
"Mr. President, we've just gotten word that your popularity polls are
through the roof! The entire world loves you!"
"HEY! You know The President can't speak. You talk to him through me.
Got it, asshole?"
"I have a feeling we'll have world peace soon."
Wait, I was still in front of the mirror looking at my freshly dyed hair.
Oh, I see what had happened. I had temporarily gained clairvoyance and
witnessed the soon to be. With the biggest smile my face could handle, I
went to dry myself off but discovered that I was already dried... AND
CLOTHED! Seeing this as a good omen, I proceeded to do my regular
routine, just waiting for these events I had forseen unfold.
.d&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&b.
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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copyright 2002 by #204-06/09/02
the neo-comintern
All content is property of The Neo-Comintern.
You may redistribute this document, although no fee can be charged and
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