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Anada 067
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## ## ### I S S U E # 0 6 7 0 6 - 0 2 - 0 0 ### ####
### # ### #######
#### ### "An Experience... Points?" ###
####### by Phairgirl
####
I'm carrying my book as I walk into that goddamn waste of a monument
in my goddamn waste of a town. And I look about, and I find what I was
looking for, even though usually on my best of days, it's not what I would
ever look for. But it's late, or early, or something, and I really don't
care. I'm just looking for some mild entertainment. Or conversation. Or
both, or neither, I don't know.
I'm making all this up, it's all in my head. Or maybe not, it's
hard to keep all of that straight anyway. It doesn't matter, it will all be
true someday anyway. It's fun that way. It all happens. I can't make up
untruths, only presently unfound facts. A dream? Maybe so, but not for
long. Tomorrow, it's reality, and you'll be stuck in it with me.
And yet there's something to do, people to talk with, anything to
keep my mind just barely afloat. There's gentle scraping of miniatures and
kamikaze bullshitting that really does nobody any good. And then there's
that kickass crazy guy who forgot his medication, carrying on about how the
whole town is after him, how the Catholics hate him, how the fucking police
are corrupt and someone shot Martin Luther King, for crying out loud. I can
only respond with a slight smile and enjoy the incredibly odd surroundings.
I'm not trying to be witty or clairvoyant, art-faggy or existential,
empty or alone. Just observational. And I see the plastic slivers on the
floor, and the pink foam bedmat, and the piles of miniatures for only $6.99,
and my past alliances and my past bonds. Is it an experience? Not much of
one, but I might still get points if my style and charm outwit the GM.
There's geek talk. Miniatures and Star Wars and GenCon and Pokemon.
Internet bullshit, work, hitching, reading, whatever. There's really not
much to say, or to do for that matter, except guzzle the coffee and wait for
something to happen. Nothing ever does, that's the beauty of it. Yet still
I desperately wait for no reason other than curiosity.
Nothing more than nothing, just another nothing... nothing nothing
nothing nothing nothing. Nothing nothing nothing, nothing nothing, nothing
nothing nothing nothing nothing. Nothing? Nothing nothing nothing.
And silence, that's all that's left now, with my blue screen in front
of me and my big fun behind me, all wound up in a bottle of empty with some
coffee for power. And all the lights are out, all my connections are gone,
it's time to find a buddy on AOL, or maybe not. Buddies? Me? Sure. I'll
let them come to me. Me and my silence and my blue screen. It's either
that or sleep, and how can I, after loading up on caffeine while babbling
semi-coherently with semi-coherent people? And now I'm stuck here, awake
but somehow dreaming.
I've got a kickass job where I get to read 50 pages a day, I say. I
have never seen a Star Wars flick, I say. I've got nothing better to do
than sit at this pathetic table and talk about pathetic nothings as my
pathetic wallet shrinks and my pathetic brain thinks. And it's all good, I
say. I like it that way.
I want to wrap it all up and put it in my pocket, carry it around
and smile and be happy and turn it all into a life worth writing about,
worth envy and worth sharing and attraction. Maybe I just did. Maybe I
just need to leave.
So I guess I'm gone.
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# (c)2000 aNAda e'zine aNAda067 .*. by Phairgirl #
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