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Yellow Journal 03
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yj # 3 - yellow journal numero three - yj # 3
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yj # 3 - yellow journal numero three - yj # 3
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--- -- -]
"look at me. i pierced my fucking anus!@"
-- big hurt
i didnt really piercy my anus, i just go around saying it in the adam
sandlers bafun voice.
"i looked at my ass in the mirror. it blew my fucking mind!@"
-- adam sandler, bafun
--- -- -]
=01==========================================================================
-+ editoral +-
-+ written by big hurt +-
yet another issue for your reading pleasure or whatever pleasures you would
like fulfill while digging the information out of this third issue of yellow
journal.
for those of you that havent read yellow journal before and want to know what
this zine is about. well, i'm here to tell you that. so here it goes.
yellow journal is a magazine that i started in march of this year and i just
sit down and write stuff on the computer and put it in here for your reading
enjoyment. i really like to see people write for yellow journal, but since i
havent had the chance to spread this magazine. so that may be one reason that
you havent gotten a chance to read the first two issues. but here it is
anyway.
one reason i havent been able to spread this magazine and get to anyone on
the internet, is because of my protocols are not currently working on my
internet providers server. which does really suck, because i was hoping to
get this magazine to many more people by using the internet.
without further ado, here is yellow journal issue number three. break out
your silverware and start grubbing for the juicy tidbits in the magazine.
=02==========================================================================
-+ table of contents +-
-+ written by big hurt +-
yellow journal table of contents:
01. editoral
02. table of contents
03. walk in the park, part 1 - new beginning
04. adam sandler songs
05. tutty fruity
06. jonas' legacy
07. second king installment
08. umney's last case, part 2 - stephen king
09. seduction of the needle
10. ways to contact yj
11. adventures of charlie, part 1
12. a season coming to a close
13. search engines
14. humiliation
15. just my luck
16. issue 6
17. deep down
18. hasta la vista bebe
=03==========================================================================
-+ walk in the park +-
-+ written by big hurt +-
it was another normal day. but a little breeze on this day, with the nice
cold flow of the wind. it made my body relax as i walked down the paved
sidewalk, that started to get old. you could tell by cracks starting to
weather it.
counting the cracks i continued moving forward, only looking at my feet,
trying to miss the cracks. it was like i was playing a game of it. one of
those games that you would play when you were little. you know, the game
that if you accidently stepped on a crack you would break your mothers back.
it seemed as time stopped. as my feet kept me moving on the sidewalk that
went through most of the park -- boy was this a big park. my feet kept me
going on this most beautiful day, that you could put a trade mark on it. it
was my day off and the sun was shining as i could feel it get hotter as the
sun shined down on my skin.
thinking, i decided to stop and sit down for a little bit and just sit and
admire the creation by mother nature. since i had nothing better to do, it
sounded like a wonderful idea. so i proceeded.
young kids off in the distance, near the swings sets could be seen pushing
one another back and forth on the swings. them laughing and having the time
of their life, brought a smile to my face. not just a normal smile, but a
smile that i was happy to be alive.
i could remember just months ago, before i got my job. which i have to admit
was hard getting. you know when you have a criminal record, it is hard to
get a job. espically when your crime was dealing with computers and the job
you are going after is the only thing you know, computers. i've been working
several months with this firm doing work with maintaining the firms computers
and making sure that they don't have those stupid virus trying to destroy the
files that are so valuable to them. also, another job that i had there was to
make sure that no one hacks into the firms computer network system via a
modem.
the funny thing was that i went to jail for 3 years for hacking into a firm,
quite like this, but they dealt with more of the governments matters. this
one just does things for some big guys that are running around in california.
to think i was in jail for three years for simply hacking a computer network
system and stealing some information from that one firms computer. i remember
those seconds that i served very well. thinking of what i would do. would i
continue to hack computers and systems? would i get a real job for once?
would i find a girl that i actually could have a stable relationship with?
many things came into my mind while i was in the joint. yeah, the big house.
you know, just the normal thoughts that seem to always enter you mind while
sitting on the shitter reading the local newspaper that seemed to get that
coffee ring stain on it.
but while sitting or sometimes laying in my bed during the early hours of
the morning while i stay those three long years in prison, i decided that
i was going to become famous or die trying. i was going to make something
out of my life. no matter what. if i had to climb that ladder with things
getting in my way, then hell, i would do it.
prison was not the life you wanted to live. when i was there, one person
from death row got his turn to go the gas chamber. and inhale the gases
that only that person that stepped foot in that room.
i spoke to him once, briefly while in the prison yard, one afternoon. he
gave me much advise during that conversation. that short talk that we had,
came two days before he was executed into oblivion. he was put to rest for
the killings and rape of three girls, which of two where twins. one ended
up being a friend of the twins that spent the night. the night that he came
and raped and then dragged them off into the dark forest of the night and
finally killed them with a knife that he had strapped to his left calf.
but he gave me so much knowledge on that day that we spoke. he was not a
cruel and devient person, like the papers made him out to be. he was a
quiet guy without a family to turn to.
arthur riggs was his name. and arthur gave me this advise. i remember the
words so clear and i recite them every morning i wake up and every night
before i call it a day. i hold this advise so dear to my heart. these are the
words that he spoke to me: "...life is a mystery with many adventures. you
must choose the right path, to turn life out the way you wish. but study and
think over every choice before deciding..."
i never saw his face again, until i read the prison newspaper a week or so
later, which had a picture of him. along with the rest of my items that i
had in prison, i brought out with me, i took that picture and article that
spoke about him. and today in my apartment, i have it pinned up on my
bulletin board that hangs slightly askew on the pale white wall near the
frig.
i can remember all the advise that arthur gave to me about people, life, and
many intersting things. if i had to choose to be someone else, i would pick
him out of all the billions of people on the face of the earth.
--- -- -]
getting my limp body off the park bench was a tough stride, but i managed to
pick it up. it was a task. i stretched out my body from day dreaming and
thinking of the old memories. but it was starting to get late and i planned
on just staying for a little bit at the city park in orange.
orange, california is where i was born and raised and then finally arrested
for the computer crimes of fraudlent use of a computer, a fraudlent use of
a device, theft of passwords, theft of government documents, and finally
resisting arrest. if you can resisinting an arrest when they bust down your
moms front door and not even showing you a warrant to search your house and
arrest my ass.
they through me into the slammer that night and i couldnt have any post me
bail until four days later. a half of a week in the slammer with the donut
eating pigs treating me like garbage. not something i really wanted to be
doing. you really don't have a a option at that point, when you can't post
bail money or when you're stuck behind the cold steel bars.
those days were kind of unbelievable. but i managed to get through the nights
and days, until my mother came down to the station to post bail. the first
thing she did to was slap me in disgust, like i did do something wrong. i
did do something wrong, but i was just being curoius. but they say curiosity
kills the cat. after she gave me a mighty wack to the side of my head, she
rejoiced and gave me a hug. she hugged me tighter than she had ever hugged
me before.
i went home that night and she made my favorite meal. spaghetti with garlic
glazed bread sticks that would light up anyones mouth and get those juices
flowing like a raged river forming into a waterfall.
that week that ended up being my last week, until i visisted that house once
again after i stayed my last night and day in prison.
the trial started the week after and they decided it would be best for me to
stay in the local police station prison until the trial was over. well that
was correct, but i never got to go home after the trial. there was no jury at
this trial. but if there was, it would probably be all family members of the
government or the firm in which i broke into there computer. cause i'm sure
they wanted to see this puppy along as quick i could. the judge decided and
he said he was going lite on me and only sentencing me for three years of
prison.
after i got out, i went home to visit my mother. but my sister gave me the
news as we got about half way home from the prison and said that mom had
passed away about five days ago.
this pissed me off. "why didn't you tell me that mom croaked? you know i
have a right to know. she is my mom for fucking christ sack. she is my
mom!" i knelt down and let the tears fall down my checks until they dried
for themselves.
my sister, rachael, comforted me. "i know she is your mom. she is both of
our moms. i miss very much. but not as bad you do," she spoke so softly
into my ear.
the funeral was two days later and i cried there also. still trying to get
the pain of the whole thing out. i don't think i really recovered from the
shock of her death. i wasn't expecting that to even happen. she was suppose
to see me when i got out of prison, but that is one mom that didn't get to
see her son return home.
the last words that i could even recall of her telling me was "i'll send you
the books and magazines that you asked for with your sister the next time
she goes to visit you." i still hold onto those boosk and magazines, just of
a reminder. because those were the last things that my mother touched that
i layed my hands on and read.
there was a note on a white piece of lined notebook paper with the following
words in her handwriting:
dear james, i think of you every day and hope that you are learning and
trying to do your best. here is the books and magazines you asked for. i know
you think about me alot too. please take care and don't do anything stupid.
with much love, nancy.
that note is also pinned up to the picture of arthur. on that askew bulletin
board. that board is filled with many memories, that sometimes make me hurt
when i look at the things pinned on it.
i eventually got an apartment after staying a few weeks at my sisters house.
i didnt try to out stay my weclome, but rachael didn't mind me staying there.
she even encouraged me staying with her and her husband robbie a little bit
longer.
i probably would've, but i found the apartment of my dreams. i could fit all
of my things in it and have enough room. i had to do with my computer at the
time, until upgraded it with my first paycheck. and then with my fourth and
fifth paycheck i bought a new ibm laptop. i still kept the old junky one
around, but i seemed to use the laptop more often. i have everything on the
old 486 that is on the 200 mhz pentium laptop.
shortly after moving into the apartment, i found my job at the firm. mr.
rivet was the man that interviewed me and turned out to be my boss. i made
friends quickly there. because people had many questions about the network
system and computers. and that was my job to give tech support and i decided
since i was there doing my job, i would get to know more people.
--- -- -]
i met a man that was did use to do most of the tech support and still gave
advise to one's that seeked the information, but got a promotion and was now
doing other work at the firm. richard hancock, was a tall and bulky gentleman
that looked like he was in his late 20's or early 30's.
--- -- -]
richard and i where sitting down for coffee on our break in the employees
kitchen.
richard must have enjoyed that nutra sweet sugar. because there was five open
poches of them and only one of them was mine that i emptied into my coffee.
by the looks of his coffee, the four of them were his.
it was getting to the end of my break and i soon had to head back to the
main computer room to check for some virus that a short, lumpy guy with
black hair reported.
he said that it was called something like: "wu-tang".
after finishing my coffee and ending up the conversation with mr. hancock
i proceeded to the main computer network.
i popped in my floppy disk with the virus cleaner on it and scanned the
computer that had the initial virus on it. and the thing came up clean. so
i rescanned the computer again and it was the same exact result. no virus.
then continued to check for the virus, hoping it was not a worm, that would
ruin the network. the system came up clean. then i scanned once again for
good measure and once again it came up virus free.
the lumpy guy that reported it must have imagined it.
but, just wondering since i was pondered. looking through the list of virii
it showed that there wasn't a single virus with the name of "wu-tang" or
anything that resembled the name.
--- -- -]
... to be continued ...
=04==========================================================================
-+ adam sandler songs +-
-+ written by big hurt +-
adam sandler is probably one of the funniest comidians in my eyes. but, that
is for you to judge.
so right now, i'm going to list a all of his songs that appear on his latest
album which was released somewhere in jan. - feb. its called "what the
hell happened to me?"
it is funny. i like the the following things on the album. "joining the
cult", "the goat", "the excited southerner gets pulled over", "do it for
your mama", "memory lane", and "sex or weight lifting".
here are the following songs as they appear on the album.
--- -- -]
"ode to my car"
here we go
piece of shit car
i got a piece of shit car
that fucking pile of shit
never gets me very far
my car's a big piece of shit
'cause the shocks are fucking shot
and my sandbelt's fucking broken
i got to tie it in a knot
(it's a piece of shit)
i can't see through the windshield
'cause it's got a big fuckin' crack
and the interior smells real bad
'cause my friend puked in the back
(it's a piece of shit)
(piece of shit car)
piece of shit car
(he's got a piece of shit car)
it sucks royal dick
(that fuckin' pile of shit)
100% crap
(never gets him very far)
oh fuck you car
it's got no CD player, it only gpt the 8-track
whoever designed my car can lick my sweaty nut sack
(they can bite his ass too)
and i got no fuckin' brakes
i'm always way out of control
elevein times a day i hear "hey, watch it asshole"
(you fuckin' piece of shit)
(piece of shit car)
i got a piece of shit car
(he got a piece of shit car)
diesel gas sucks my ass
(that fuckin' pile of shit)
that pile of metal shit
(never gets him very far)
oh what the fuck did i go
what the fuck did i do
what the fuck did i do
to get stuck with you
you're too wide for drive-thru
and you smell like the shoe
but i'm too broke to buy something new
oh fuck me
well the engine likes to flood
the car always fuckin' stalls
and the seat cushion's got a big rip
so a spring always pokes the balls
(ouch, ouch, ouch)
plus the door locks are busted
i gotta use a fucking coat hanger
(what a pain in his ass)
and if a girlie sees my car
there's no chance i'll ever bang her
(he never ever gets da pussy)
hey shut up
you piece of shit car
you piece of shit car
bald fuckin' tires
no rearview fucking mirror
seven different colors
fucking rag for a gas cap
tailpipe makes the sparks fly everywhere
oh the whole town thinks i'm a loser
cabby give me a push
--- -- -]
"the chanukah song"
put on your yarmulke
here comes chanukah
so much funukah
to celebrate chanukah
chanukah is the festival of lights
instead of one day of presents, we have eight crazy nights
when you feel like the only kid in town without a christmas tree
here's a list of people who are jewish just like you and me
david lee roth lights the menorah
so did kirk douglas, james caan and the late dinah shore-ah
guess who eats together at the cargnegie deli
bowser from sha na na and arthur fonzerelli
paul newman's half jewish, goldie hawn's half too
put them together, what a fine lookin' jew
you don't need "deck the halls" or "jingle bell rock"
'cause you can spin a dreidel with captain kirk and mr. spock-both jewish
put on your yarmulke
it's time for chanukah
the owner of the seattle supersonics
celebrate chanukah
o.j. simpson, not a jew
but guess who is? hall of famer rod carew - he converted
we got ann landers and her sister dear abby
harrison ford's a quarter jewish - not too shaby
some peopel think that ebenezer scrooge is
well he's not, but guess who is
all three stooges
so many jews in showbiz
tom cruise isn't, but i heard his agent is
tell your friend veronica
it's time to celebrate chanukah
i hope i get a harmonicah
on this lovely, lovely chanukah
so drink your gin and tonicah
and smoke your marijuanikah
if you really, really wannakah
have a happy, happy, happy, happy chanukah
happy chanukah
--- -- -]
"steve polychronopolous"
i'm a big fuckin' dick
i'm a pain in your ass
i drink all your beer
i'll eat the last slice
i'll give you charley horses
i'll pull your shorts down at the beach
i always need a ride
nobody likes me
my name's steve motherfucking polychronopolous
i spit when i talk
i swear in front of your mother
i throw shit at the movies
i wear tight pants
i ask you to buy an extra yankee ticket
and then i don't show
i tell you i saw your girlfriend
fucking two guys at a party
'cause my name's steve motherfucking polychronopolous
i'll piss on your toilet seat and tell your dad you got stoned
i'll borrow your jacket and never think of returning it
polychronopolous
pansy
pussy
shit for brains
douchebag
i'll leave your gate open
so your dog runs away
i'll make fun of your pimple
then i'll grab your sister's ass
'cause my name's steve motherfucking polychronopolous
and i don't care
and i don't give a shit
i'll break your brother's stereo
and then tell him it was you
you think you're better than me
well you're fucking wrong
everybody knows i'm steve motherfucking polychronopolous
deal with it
--- -- -]
"crazy love"
you don't mind that i think everybody's a robot
and all my conversations are being recorded
and you don't mind that all my pants are way to short on me
and i also stabbed someone with a pair of scissors a long time ago
ha-ha-ha
and you don't care that i collect dead animals from the side of the road
then pretend they're alive and think i'm a famous football player
and you don't have a problem with me i follow people i never met before
and force them to look at the portrait of neil diamond i have tattooed on
my back
it's very pretty, baby
well you must have been sent from above
you're all that i can think of
you're just as psychotic as me
my crazy love
well it never bothers you when i wear my snowsuit to bed every night
and i make you speak in tongues to me until i fall asleep
blah bloo blah bloo bloo
thank you
and you don't make fun of me 'cause i still make out with my stepfather
and i also tell everyone i was on a ufo for two and half years
i believe you sugarpie
'cause our love is right on track
i'm yours, you're mine it's a fact
don't forget to take your prozac
my crazy love
well yesturday i tickled a man who wasn't even there
oh, three days before i ran down the street in my wonder woman underwear
i didn't care
babe i know i never had a job
'cause i'm afraid to talk to people
'cause i know that they're all robots who are seekin' information
they can't fool you, sweetheart
and i know that you know i'm the one who burned my cousin chester's house
to the ground
but you told the cops we were out ballroom dancing when they came and
questioned you
i ain't no fink, dollface
'cause we know that it's true
only i could love you
we both eat with our hands
my crazy love
my crazy, crazy love
oh i wish everybody was dead except for you, baby
i feel the same way
would you throw some macaroni on me
oh yeah, here you go
--- -- -]
"dip doodle"
jabawokee ding dong
slip slap slee
dipstick paddywhack
pee pee googalee gee
polly wolly sling slang
skooey dibbley doo
wing wong ping pong king kong cheech 'n chong
hop hip kagagoogoo
hickory dickory slickory flip flap
dip skip to my lou
flim flam wham blam sam bam cunningham
whack snack koochie koochie koo
plus you gotta dip, you gotta doodle
you gotta eat grandma's stroodle
'cause she stayed up all night to make it from scratch
you gotta gish, you gotta gash
you gotta wax grandma's mustache
and lay out her socks
to make sure they match
whoa, you gotta help out your grandma
slappety dappety sling skism skasm
bing bang boo
a yip, a yap, a snippety snap
walla, walla scrappy dappy doo
piddle paddle fiddle faddle widdle waddle
awhee clunkety clang
a plop, a fizz, a whackety whiz
chitty chitty bang wang lang
zippity doo dang lipidee ay
oompa loompa doo
a piggly wiggly dooda
stinky winky linky foo man choo
plus you gotta dip, you gotta doodle
you gotta shave grandma's poodle
'cause grandma would do the same for you
you gotta libby, you gotta labby
you gotta hug grandma, even though she's flabby
'cause you should know grandma's are people too
whoa, you gotta love your grandma
now if you listened to the words of this song
you know they're coming straight from the heart
never make fun of your grandma
even when she rips a juicy fart
and remember to dip you gotta doodle
you gotta stop playing with your noodle
'cause grandma said it will make you go blind
you gotta gipper, you gotta giper
you gotta change grandma's diaper
and then pretend that you really didn't mind
whoa, respect to the grandma
--- -- -]
"mr. brake-o"
i'm sitting in my chair watchin' the tv
it's not even on but there's plenty for me to see
i just lit some crazy ass shit
that my friend overnight-mailed to me
i'm fuckin' wasted
it's the best shit i ever tasted
i think they fuckin' laced it
'cause i'm so damn lambasted
oh my friend came over so i packed him a pipe
i told him he better go easy with this shit but he didn't believe the hype
he sparked three bowls just to show he could take it
two minutues later he was playin' backgammon naked
he's fuckin' wasted
it's the best shit he ever tasted
he's lost in fuckin' spaced-ed
'cause he's so wicked wicked wasted
oh i spent the last two hours hiding under my bed
'cause i looked in the garabage can and i think i saw my uncle louie's head
i'm fuckin' wasted
well my friend blew a hit into my pet bird's face
the bird laughed hysterically and started to moon walk all over the place
he tripped over the toaster wire and feel on his beak
he looked at the two of us and he started to speak
i'm fuckin' wasted
it's the best i ever tasted
my brain's been erased-ed
well fuckin' fried
now i'm sittin' in the bathtub wantin' something to eat
i wanted a pizza-the bird said "uh, pepperoni would be sweet"
delivery guy showed up four hours later, handed me his shoe
i said "we ordered pizza buddy, what the hell's up with you?"
i'm fucking wasted
it's the best shit i ever fuckin' tasted
oh fuckin' shit
i'm way too baked
--- -- -]
"what the hell happened to me?"
i used to ride my big wheel
and sell lemonade
eat popcorn with grandpa while we watched a parada
but now i'm only happy when i'm drinkin' j.d.
what the hell happened to me?
i used to have fun throwing snowballs
with my best friend billy
then mom would make us coca if we got too chilly
but now i only get excited when i see a girl pee
what the hell happened to me?
i used to be the nicest kid in the neighborhood
i only did the things that mama said i should
but now i just do whatever i want
i even whipped it out in a restaurant
i used to help clean the park in the middle of town
they played kickball 'til the sun went down
but now all i do is get vd
what the hell happened to me?
it makes no sense
i can't believe i ended up me
i'm outta my gourd
won't somebody please help me
i'm kind of a weirdo
=05==========================================================================
-+ tutty fruity +-
-+ written by unknown +-
Once upon a time there lived a man who had a maddening passion
for baked beans. He loved them, but they always had a very
embarrassing and somewhat lively reaction on him. Then one day he
met a girl and fell in love. When it became apparent that they
would marry, he thought to himself, "She is such a sweet and
gentle girl, she will never go for this kind of carrying on." So
he made the supreme sacrifice.... He gave up beans. They were
married shortly thereafter.
Some months later, this car broke down on the way home from
work; and since they lived in the country, he called his wife and
told her that he would be late..because he had several miles to
walk home. So he stopped at the cafe.
Before leaving, he had three large orders of baked beans.
All the way home he putt-putt-putted and after arriving, he felt
reasonably safe that he had putt-putt-putted the last. His wife
seemed somewhat excited and agitated to see him. She exclaimed,
"Darling, I have the most wonderful surprise for dinner tonight."
She then blindfolded him and led him to his chair at the head of
the dining table. He seated himself and just as she was ready to
remove the blindfold, the telephone rang. She made him vow not to
touch the blindfold until she returned, then went to answer the
phone. Seizing the opportunity, he shifted his weight to one leg
and let go! It was not only loud, but as ripe as rotten eggs. He
took the napkin from his lap and vigorously fanned the air about
him. Things had just returned to normal when he felt the urge of
another one coming on him, so he shifted his wight to the other
leg and let go again. This was a prize winner! While keeping his
ear on the conversation in the hall, he went on like this for ten
minutes until he knew the phone farewells indicated the end of his
freedom. He placed his napkin in his lap and folded his hands on
top of it smiling contently to himself. He was the very picture of
innocence when his wife returned, apologizing for taking so long.
She asked if he had peeked, and of course, he assured her that he
had not. At this point she removed the blindfold and there was his
surprise...twelve dinner guests seated around the table for a happy
birthday party!!!.
=06==========================================================================
-+ jonas' legacy +-
-+ written by big hurt +-
jonas?
it was probably one of the best e'zines that i've read. even better than
dto, y0lk, chemical chocolate, rad, or even pork.
it was one reasons that i decided to write a monthly a e'zine. yes, jonas is
a inspiration to me and to the creation of this textfile based magazine.
jonas released the 16th issue and very last issue of jonas.
but, don't get scared just yet. after a year of all of those wonderful
released jonas issues, you will get a new magazine from my creators and
writers of jonas and slinky. the current name for the new e'zine will be
legacy. that is sounds like a good name for a magazine and congrulate the
one who brain-stormed the idea.
the writers of klunk just changed to slinky. and now after two issues of
slinky released to the public, they join up with jonas to create maybe one
of the best e'zines to date with styles from both magazines.
so keep your eyes open for the new magazine, legacy. because i know i'll
keep both eyes alter for the debut of a new legacy in the 'zine scene.
... late breaking news ...
fuck, fuck, fuck.
the deal with jonas and slinky e'zines merging fell through. so guess what?
both zines will be going on their seperate ways. i just found this out by
reading jonas 17 that was just released. so go download it right now.
besides merging, i wonder if any e'zines out their would wanna merge with my
zine? that would be kind of cool, because i would have more writters and
probably more people read it.
=07==========================================================================
-+ second king installment +-
-+ written by big hurt +-
it is time for another stephen king installment continued from last months
first installment of a 7 part series.
=08==========================================================================
-+ vernon's cough +-
-+ written by stephen king +-
II. Vernon's Cough.
I managed to pull myself erect and make my way across the street.
Peoria, aka Francis Smith, was long gone, but I wanted to put those
blowing newspapers behind me, too. Looking at them was giving me a
headache that was somehow worse than the ache in my groin.
On the far side of the street I stared into Felt's Stationery as if
the new Parker ball-point pen in the window was the most fascinating
thing I'd ever seen in my life (or maybe it was those sexy imitation-
leather appointment books). After five minutes or so--time enough to
commit every item in the dusty show-window to memory--I felt capable
of resuming my interrupted voyage up Sunset without listing too
noticeably to port.
Questions circled in my mind the way mosquitoes circle your head at
the drive-in in San Pedro when you forget to bring along an insect
stick or two. I was able to ignore most of them, but a couple got
through. First, what the hell had gotten into Peoria? Second, what the
hell had gotten into me? I kept slapping at these uncomfortable
queries until I got to Blondie's City Eats, Open 24 Hrs, Bagels Our
Specialty, on the corner of Sunset and Travernia, and when I got that
far, they were driven out in a single wallop. Blondie's had been on
that corner for as long as I could remember--the sharpies and the
hustlers and the hipsters and the hypes going in and going out, not to
mention the debs, the dykes, and the dopes. A famous silent-movie star
was once arrested for murder as he was coming out of Blondie's, and I
myself had concluded a nasty piece of business there not so long ago,
shooting a coked-up fashion-plate named Dunninger who had killed three
hopheads in the aftermath of a Hollywood dope party. It was also the
place where I'd said goodbye to the silver-haired, violet-eyed Ardis
McGill. I'd spent the rest of that lost night walking in a rare Los
Angeles fog which might have only been behind my eyes . . . and
trickling down my cheeks, by the time the sun came up.
Blondie's closed? Blondie's gone? Impossible, you would have said--
more likely that the Statue of Liberty should have disappeared from
her barren lick of rock in New York Harbor.
Impossible but true. The window which had once held a mouth-watering
selection of pies and cakes was soaped over, but the job had been done
indifferently, and I could see a nearly empty room through the
stripes. The lino looked filthy and barren. The grease-darkened blades
of the overhead fans hung down like the propellers of crashed
airplanes. There were a few tables left, and six or eight of the
familiar red-upholstered chairs piled on them with the legs sticking
up, but that was all . . . except for a couple of empty sugar- shakers
tumbled in one corner.
I stood there trying to get it into my head, and it was like trying to
get a big sofa up a narrow flight of stairs. All that life and
excitement, all that late-night hustle and surprise--how could it be
ended? It didn't seem like a mistake; it seemed like a blasphemy. For
me Blondie's had summed up all the glittering contradictions that
surround L.A.'s essentially dark and loveless heart; I had sometimes
thought Blondie's was L.A. as I had known it over the last fifteen or
twenty years, only drawn small. Where else could you see a mobster
eating breakfast at 9:00 p.m. with a priest, or a diamond-decked
glamorpuss sitting on a counter-stool next to a grease-monkey
celebrating the end of his shift with a hot cup of java? I suddenly
found myself thinking of the Cuban bandleader and his heart attack
again, this time with considerably more sympathy.
All that fabulous starry City of Lost Angels life--do you get it,
chum? Are you picking up this newsflash?
The sign hung in the door read CLOSED FOR RENOVATIONS, REOPENING SOON,
but I didn't believe it. Empty sugar-shakers lying in the corner do
not, in my experience, indicate renovations in progress. Peoria had
been right: Blondie's was history. I turned away and went on up the
street, but now I walked slowly and had to consciously order my head
to stay up. As I approached the Fulwider Building, where I've kept an
office for more years than I like to think about, an odd certainty
gripped me. The handles of the big double doors would be wrapped up in
a thick tow-chain and held with a padlock. The glass would be soaped
over in indifferent stripes. And there would be a sign reading CLOSED
FOR RENOVATIONS, REOPENING SOON.
By the time I reached the building, this nutty idea had taken over my
mind with the force of a compulsion, and not even the sight of Bill
Tuggle, the rummy CPA from the third floor, going inside could quite
dispel it. But seeing is believing, they say, and when I got to 2221,
I saw no chain, no sign, and no soap on the glass. It was just the
Fulwider, the same as ever. I went into the lobby, smelled the
familiar odor--it reminds me of the pink cakes they put in the urinals
of public men's rooms these days--and glanced around at the same ratty
palm trees overhanging the same faded red tile floor.
Bill was standing next to Vernon Klein, world's oldest elevator
operator, in Car 2. In his frayed red suit and ancient pillbox hat,
Vernon looks like a cross between the Philip Morris bellboy and a
rhesus monkey which has fallen into an industrial steam-cleaning
machine. He looked up at me with his mournful basset-hound eyes, which
were watering from the Camel pasted in the middle of his mouth. His
peepers should have gotten used to the smoke years ago; I couldn't
remember ever having seen him without a Camel parked in that same
position.
Bill moved over a little, but not far enough. There wasn't room enough
in the car for him to move far enough. I'm not sure there would have
been room in Rhode Island for him to move far enough. Delaware, maybe.
He smelled like bologna which has spent a year or so marinating in
cheap bourbon. And just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, he
belched.
``Sorry, Clyde.''
``Well, you certainly ought to be,'' I said, waving the air in front
of my face as Vern slid the gate across the front of the car and
prepared to fly us to the moon . . . or at least to the seventh floor.
``What drainpipe did you spend the night in, Bill?''
Yet there was something comforting about that smell--I'd be lying if I
said there wasn't. Because it was a familiar smell. It was just Bill
Tuggle, odoriferous, hung over, and standing with his knees slightly
bent, as if someone had filled the crotch of his underpants with
chicken salad and he'd just realized it. Not pleasant, nothing about
that morning's elevator ride was pleasant, but it was at least known.
Bill gave me a sick smile as the elevator began to rattle upward but
said nothing.
I swung my head in Vernon's direction, mostly to get away from the
smell of overbaked accountant, but whatever small talk I'd been
meaning to make died in my throat. The two pictures which had hung
over Vern's stool since the beginning of time--one of Jesus walking on
the Sea of Galilee while his boatbound disciples gawped at him and the
other of Vern's wife in a buckskin-fringed Sweetheart of the Rodeo
outfit and a turn-of-the-century hairdo--were both gone. What had
replaced them shouldn't have been shocking, especially in light of
Vernon's age, but it hit me like a barge-load of bricks just the same.
It was a card, that's all--a simple card showing the silhouette of a
man fishing on a lake at sunset. It was the sentiment printed below
the canoe that floored me: HAPPY RETIREMENT!
You could have doubled the way I felt when Peoria told me he might see
again and still have come up short. Memories flickered through my mind
with the speed of cards being shuffled by a riverboat gambler. There
was the time Vern broke into the office next to mine to call an
ambulance when that nutty dame, Agnes Sternwood, first tore my phone
out of the wall and then swallowed what she swore was drain-cleaner.
The ``drain-cleaner'' turned out to be nothing but crystals of raw
sugar, and the office Vern broke into turned out to be a high-class
horse parlor. So far as I know, the guy who leased the place and
slapped MacKenzie Imports on the door is still receiving his annual
Sears Roebuck catalogue in San Quentin. Then there was the guy Vern
cold-conked with his stool just before he could ventilate my guts;
that was the Mavis Weld business again, of course. Not to mention the
time he brought his daughter to me--what a babe she was!--when she got
involved with that dirty-picture racket.
Vern retiring?
It wasn't possible. It just wasn't.
``Vernon,'' I asked, ``what kind of joke is this?''
``No joke, Mr. Umney,'' he said, and as he brought the elevator car to
a stop on Three, he began to hack a deep cough I'd never heard in all
the years I'd known him. It was like listening to marble bowling balls
rolling down a stone alley. He took the Camel out of his mouth, and I
was horrified to see the end of it was pink, and not with lipstick. He
looked at it for a moment, grimaced, then replaced it and yanked back
the accordion grille. ``Thuh-ree, Mr. Tuggle.''
``Thanks, Vern,'' Bill said.
``Remember the party on Friday,'' Vernon said. His words were muffled;
he'd taken a handkerchief spotted with brown stains out of his back
pocket and was wiping his lips with it. ``I sure would admire for you
to come.'' He glanced at me with his rheumy eyes, and what was in them
scared the bejabbers out of me. Something was waiting for Vernon Klein
just around the next bend in the road, and that look said Vernon knew
all about it. ``You too, Mr. Umney--we been through a lot together,
and I'd be tickled to raise a glass with you.''
``Wait a minute!'' I shouted, grabbing Bill as he tried to step out of
the elevator. ``You wait just a God damned minute, both of you! What
party? What's going on here?''
``Retirement,'' Bill said. ``It usually happens at some point after
your hair turns white, in case you've been too busy to notice.
Vernon's party is going to be in the basement on Friday afternoon.
Everybody in the building's going to be there, and I'm going to make
my world-famous Dynamite Punch. What's the matter with you, Clyde?
You've known for a month that Vern was finishing up on May
thirtieth.''
That made me angry all over again, the way I'd been when Peoria called
me a faggot. I grabbed Bill by the padded shoulders of his
double-breasted suit and gave him a shake. ``The hell you say!''
He gave me a small, pained smile. ``The hell I don't, Clyde. But if
you don't want to come, fine. Stay away. You've been acting poco loco
for the last six months, anyhow.''
I shook him again. ``What do you mean, poco loco?''
``Crazy as a loon, nutty as a fruitcake, two wheels off the road, out
to lunch, playing without a full deck--any of those ring a bell? And
before you answer, just let me inform you that if you shake me one
more time, even a little shake, my guts are going to explode straight
out through my chest, and not even dry-cleaning will get that mess off
your suit.''
He pulled away before I could do it again even if I'd wanted to and
started down the hall with the seat of his pants hanging somewhere
down around the level of his knees, as per usual. He glanced back just
once, while Vernon was sliding the brass gate across. ``You need to
take some time off, Clyde. Starting last week.''
``What's gotten into you?'' I shouted at him. ``What's gotten into all
of you?'' But by then the inner door was closed and we were headed up
again--this time to Seven. My little slice of heaven. Vern dropped his
cigarette butt into the bucket of sand that squats in the corner, and
immediately stuck a fresh one in his kisser. He popped a wooden match
alight with his thumbnail, set the fag on fire, and immediately
started coughing again. Now I could see fine drops of blood misting
out from between his cracked lips. It was a gruesome sight. His eyes
had dropped; they stared vacantly into the far corner, seeing nothing,
hoping for nothing. Bill Tuggle's B.O. hung between us like the Ghost
of Binges Past.
``Okay, Vern,'' I said. ``What is it and where are you going?''
Vernon had never been one to wear out the English language, and that
at least hadn't changed. ``It's Big C,'' he said. ``On Saturday I
catch the Desert Blossom to Arizona. I'm going to live with my sister.
I don't expect to wear out my welcome, though. She might have to
change the bed twice.'' He brought the elevator to a stop and rattled
the gate back. ``Seven, Mr. Umney. Your little slice of heaven.'' He
smiled at that just as he always did, but this time it looked like the
kind of smile you see on the candy skulls down in Tijuana, on the Day
of the Dead.
Now that the elevator door was open, I smelled something up here in my
little slice of heaven that was so out of place it took a moment for
me to recognize it: fresh paint. Once it was noted, I filed it. I had
other fish to fry.
``This isn't right,'' I said. ``You know it isn't, Vern.''
He turned his frightening vacant eyes on me. Death in them, a black
shape flapping and beckoning just beyond the faded blue. ``What isn't
right, Mr. Umney?''
``You're supposed to be here, damn it! Right here! Sitting on your
stool with Jesus and your wife over your head. Not this!'' I reached
up, grabbed the card with the picture of the man fishing on the lake,
tore it in two, put the pieces together, tore it in four, and then
gave them the toss. They fluttered to the faded red rug on the floor
of the elevator car like confetti.
``S'posed to be right here,'' he repeated, those terrible eyes of his
never leaving mine. Beyond us, two men in paint-splattered coveralls
had turned to look in our direction.
``That's right.''
``For how long, Mr. Umney? Since you know everything else, you can
probably tell me that, can'tcha? How long am I supposed to keep drivin
this damned car?''
``Well . . . forever,'' I said, and the word hung between us, another
ghost in the cigarette-smokey elevator car. Given a choice of ghosts,
I guess I would have picked Bill Tuggle's B.O. . . . but I wasn't
given a choice. Instead, I said it again. ``Forever, Vern.''
He dragged on his Camel, coughed out smoke and a fine spray of blood,
and went on looking at me. ``It ain't my place to give the tenants
advice, Mr. Umney, but I guess I'll give you some, anyway--it being my
last week and all. You might consider seeing a doctor. The kind that
shows you ink-pitchers and you say what they look like.''
``You can't retire, Vern.'' My heart was beating harder than ever, but
I managed to keep my voice level. ``You just can't.''
``No?'' He took his cigarette out of his mouth--fresh blood was
already soaking into the tip--and then looked back at me. His smile
was ghastly. ``The way it looks to me, I ain't exactly got a choice,
Mr. Umney.''
=09==========================================================================
-+ seduction of the needle +-
-+ written by big hurt +-
'Seduction Of The Needle'
Its been a tale with nine years to hell
And all that time I thought I was having fun
I've used it so long, my soul is for sell
I wouldn't let her help, so I'm all done
There lay my rotting carcass
That night you looked good in that dress
Your seduction wasn't strong enough
But my needle of happiness was enough
Seduction of the needle
Prick, poison, inject
The needle of happiness
Seduction of the needle
Prick, poison, inject
The needle of happiness
This is my broken machine
This needle is all mine
I'm starting to slowly decline
I'm rotting away
To become a wall of clay
This happiness is mine
It's is devine
This happiness is mine
I've killed my swine
Seduction of the needle
Prick, poison, inject
The needle of happiness
Seduction of the needle
Prick, poison, inject
The needle of happiness
This is the needle in my vein
It feels so good I coudln't say no
Inject it real slow
My face had a red glow
She wanted me to stick with her
This needle of happiness was more seductive
She helped and helped
But not even she could keep me alive
Seduction of the needle
Prick, poison, inject
The needle of happiness
Seduction of the needle
Prick, poison, inject
The needle of happiness
Its to sad I had to go
It was a tale with nine years to hell
It all went slow
This needle of happiness fell
=10==========================================================================
-+ ways to contact yj +-
here are the following was that you can contact yellow journal:
lowen@goodnet.com - Big Hurt, Editor - Head
entropy@goodnet.com - Clark, Writer
=11==========================================================================
-+ adventures of charlie, part 1 +-
-+ written by big hurt +-
charlie is unique in his way. since he is a brown young dog. maybe only 2
years old at the most in human years. but in dog years that would 14.
charlie's owners name is vic. vic is a high school teacher and was head
varsity coach of the high school baseball team. he would come and nights
after they lost and throw things in disgust. sometimes when charlie was
minding his own business and just walking around the house, vic would
sometimes yell at him and once he kicked him straight in the ribs.
at the time charlie didn't know why vic kicked him in the ribs. all he knew
that is was hurting and stinging big time.
after many of times of vic doing this, charlie started to catch on that he
would stay away when he saw that look. the look that could kill over six
million people. i bet hitler would've wished he had that look.
one night when vic came home from a baseball game, he wasn't so upset,
because he knew that the season was almost over and the team had no chance of
going anywhere. charlie got close to vic and decided he would go and see if
he could get a petting from his master.
vic got a little mad and nudge charlie away. but charlie continued to get
petted. this angered vic and then finally he blew his top. vic threw charlie
outside.
charlie roamed around out back, not knowing why he was thrown out back. he
walked around the house looking for away to get back into the house and get
petted. after a while he made his way to the side of the house. instead of
finding a exit to the house, charlie found an exit from the backyard. but,
being the dog charlie was, he didn't know where this lead him.
he scratched and scratched at the gate, until he got the gate to open wide
and he mossied on out to the front yard.
he was amazed. this is where he was once or twice before. a world that he
hadn't explored much. he looked around, totally forgetting about that the
reason that brought him out in this new world. he saw and heard something
in the distance running.
so charlie thought he would go after it. and that he did.
as you got closer and closer to the thing that once seemed far away he
realized it was another dog that must have gotten out.
but this dog wasn't just any dog. it was a female dog. and since charlie was
male ... (you get the point)
charlie introduced himself to hopefully his new girlfriend. her name was
lacey.
lacey was a white dog a little bit smaller than charlie. the only difference
between them was the hair color and that charlie had some extra carry-on
bagged.
lacey wanted charlie to go with her. so being the dog that he was, he agreed
and they went on their way to lala land.
lacey told charlie all about lala land as they grew closer to one another.
she was getting charlie all excited.
time passed.
it took about two hours or so wondering around until they finally got to
lala land. charlie didn't expect this much from what lacey told him. he was
surprised. he was free and with his new girlfriend.
after spending most of the day together, they decided to make theirselves a
bed to rest upon until trouble came.
charlie looked deep into lacey's big brown loveable eyes and gave her a big
wet doggy kiss (actually he licked her) on the face. and she returned the
favor. things started to heat up as they moved onto the doggy style of
things.
the next morning came as you could see charlie starting to wake up by the
sleeping beauty, lacey. he was quite and moving softly on the ground to not
wake her up.
as he was walking away from the bed, she woke all of a sudden. then asked
charlie why he was leaving her. he explained to her.
it was all because he missed his owner vic. and he was sure that vic missed
him and probably tried looking for him the night before.
lacey begged charlie not to go, but her pleds weren't enough to keep him
around to be her boyfriend any longer.
charlie told her it would be okay. she would find someone else and maybe he
would find someone like her someday that his owner brings home. he then
told later and maybe we'll meet someday down the road, kid.
charlie left her behind in the sunshine of a new day.
the last she saw of charlie was him walking into the rising sun as his
tale was moving back and forth and his ears flapping of every stepped he
walked. she must have counted a million steps into all she could of him was
a spot on the black asphalt road.
=12==========================================================================
-+ a season coming to a close +-
-+ written by big hurt +-
the 1996 centennial varsity baseball season has come to a close. even though
we where a young team, we where suppose to be very good for our age. but,
everything feel apart during the ironwood game. people wouldn't get into the
game. but that will soon change.
because i'm getting sick of people going out their when i wanna win and i
know other people on the team wanna win. but, they just fuck around doing
what they think is right. well, i'm not a person known for getting on peoples
backs and telling them to shape up or ship out, but that time may be coming
very soon.
my team posted a 4-17 record for the entire season and a 1-9 record for our
region. with those numbers it looks like we sucked. we all have great talent
but we werent into the game. sometimes we didn't have mental toughness and
didn't think of what we needed to do. which right there is the team weakness.
but this summer our coach is going to work us harder and make us mentall
tough and make sure we do everything right and next varsity baseball season
we will be going to state.
besides the team doing bad i posted up a pitching record of:
2 wins, 2 losses, 35 strikeouts, 13 walks, 30 innings of work, and i'm not
sure of the era at this moment. it might be high because of the lack of
effort my team put forth when i was pitching some of the time. all i know is
that i got the first win of the season. i had a no-hitter for three innings
and then only allowed two more after that.
also, the arizona diamondbacks and altanta braves were there watching me
pitch with probably other major league teams and colleges.
well our baseball season ended not so well, but next year will be a lot
better.
by the way, if any one happens to find the major league baseball office
address please send it to me at lowen@goodnet.com. i need it to find out
what it takes to enter the major league baseball draft. thanks a lot.
=13==========================================================================
-+ search engines +-
-+ written by big hurt +-
search engines? search engines are spiffy. the ones for the world wide web
are very helpful in performing a task where you enter what you would like to
see.
whenever i'm on the web surfing the net i always use search engines. whenever
i want find out information or find some new files. i just head to yahoo or
webcrawler.
the addresses for those are:
yahoo! - http://www.yahoo.com
webcrawler - http://www.webcrawler.com
and while you are on the web check out this site that i found:
http://www.treasurequest.com
=14==========================================================================
-+ humiliation +-
-+ written by big hurt +-
i'm about to admit my biggest reget. my biggest fear. my biggest
underachievement. my biggest struggle. my biggest humiliation.
at least you will know i'm human. well, i'm currently 17 years old and i
still don't have a girlfriend. i haven't ever had a girlfriend. i can talk
to them, but the ones that i really like, i end up scaring off. kind of funny
huh? but, i'm not laughing cause i can't snag the one i feel i like. but,
i've been surfing the net and came across some things that may end up helping
me in the long run.
plus, i order the book by this guy FREE on disk. just go to:
http://www.seduction.com
anyways, i'm on a search to find myself a girlfriend and at least keep her
for longer than most girls. a lot of girls enjoy being around me than most
guys. kind of funny when you think about it, but i just can't any guts to
ask any of them out.
but, after reading and talking to a few friend that are trying to motivate
me into selling myself to this girl that i think would be cool to be a
girlfriend. even though i don't know her and all. first i'm gonna start to
break the ice by smiling at her and then saying "hi" in the hall. or
something along the lines of that.
if all goes good, i'll get her number. then i'll take it from their. i'm
going to try to be more aggressive and get the girl this time.
i hope things work out and next issue you will have to look for a story
about my expierences with getting the girl.
i feel much better getting this into the air, because i'm sure many people
my age haven't gotten a girlfriend yet. maybe, even older people haven't
also.
=15==========================================================================
-+ just my luck +-
-+ written by big hurt +-
i entered a contest and they recently had a drawing and i was randomly
selected as the winner for the month of april.
joy to the world!
because the contest that i entered was answering a simple question with a
"no" or "yes" answer. the question was about love. it was at the dr. tracy's
love advise site: http://www.loveadvise.com.
so, remember earlier when i told you that i was going to go after that girl
and all of that crap. well, i'm going to put that off just a little bit until
i receive the book i won from the site.
maybe this will help me. so you'll still have to stay tuned in the future and
see if i get a real life. at least a life with a girlfriend in it. wouldn't
that be just great? at least for me.
=16==========================================================================
-+ issue 6 +-
-+ written by big hurt +-
before i get to what i was going to say, i've decided the dates for the rest
of the year. and here are they dates:
issue # 03 - sunday, may 11th, 1996 (this one, duh!@!)
issue # 04 - sunday, june 9th, 1996
issue # 05 - monday, july 8th, 1996 (will be released monday after i get back
from san diego trip for summer baseball.)
issue # 06 - sunday, august 11th, 1996 (special half-year issue)
issue # 07 - sunday, september 8th, 1996
issue # 08 - sunday, october 13th, 1996
issue # 09 - sunday, november 11th, 1996
issue # 10 - sunday, december 15th, 1996 (special christmas issue)
--- -- -]
well, since you can see above that when the special issues are coming out,
along with the rest of the issues for the year. i just hope i can last and
keep putting issues out for the rest of the 1996 year.
well if you have been reading yj for a while now, then thank you and i hope
to keep you aboard as a reader of this zine.
anyways, i'm announcing that yellow journal will be releasing a special
half year issue, being yellow journal issue #6, which will be released on
sunday, august 11th, 1996.
by then, i've hoped to that yj has gained the respect of other fellow readers
and zine writters in the scene. and i hope that i could possibly get a few of
them to write for the special issue. so if you would like to submit anything
for that issue, please email me at lowen@goodnet.com to find out more or just
send me your story or article.
then there will be a special christmas issue for the holiday season. i'm not
going to worry to much about that one for now, since that is over six issues
from now. but we must all have some fun on our way through our adventures
together.
=17==========================================================================
-+ deep down +-
-+ written by big hurt +-
'Deep Down'
Deep down I scream
Deep down I fear
What you see, is not the true me
Can you feel, can you touch
Can you understand, can you comperhend
Can you see, but it's not the true me
Deep down I scream (everynight)
Deep down I fear (fear you)
What you see, is not the true me
My past has been a burden
Burning my life away
Burning my house down
Deep down until it hits ground
What you see, is that I'm not me
I have a lust for the odds
My machine rattles as I move on
My acts may strike you as not the norm
Deep down I scream (everynight)
Deep down I fear (fear you)
What you see, is not the true me
You've broken my wall, now you see me
I'm hiding in submission
It might seem like fiction
But it is really me
Deep down I scream (everynight)
Deep down I fear (everybody)
Deep down I cry (everynight)
Deep down I kill (everybody)
(at least in my imagination)
=18==========================================================================
-+ hasta la vista bebe +-
-+ written by big hurt +-
so it didnt seem that great, but i still would like to hear what you have to
say. so be upfront with me, so i can use your comments to improve the reading
of this magazine, so it doesn't repeal you from reading future issues.
because i would like you back. i would even enjoy new writers, besides the
ones that have written for yellow journal in the past.
if you would like to submit articles, stories, news, songs, poems, etc., send
all electronic mail to: lowen@goodnet.com and i'll be happy to get back to
you.
it was fun while it lasted, but i'm going to have to say good-bye. this is
big hurt signing out. see you next issue.
- + -----------------------------------------------------
------------------- +
yj # 3 - yellow journal numero three - yj # 3
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staff
head/editor: big hurt
writers: clark / balls wilson / pointman / zeus / big hurt
emailing address
big hurt/yellow journal info: lowen@goodnet.com
clark: entropy@goodnet.com
yellow journal (c) 1996 - all right reserved - yellow journal publishing
"life isn't always easy. but that's not the only thing hard."
.. anonymous ..
- + ------------------------------------------------------------------------ +
yj # 3 - yellow journal numero three - yj # 3
- + ------------------------------------------------------------------------ +
