Impulse Reality 168

eZine lover (@eZine)

Published in 

Impulse Reality

 · 5 years ago

  

     s$ 
        .d""b.                impulse reality press no. 168 
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     $$ $$                      "A Letter and Some Poetry" 
     $$ $$                           written by kreid 
     $$ $$                           released 1/14/02 
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LINEAR: you can include my story or just the poems.  hiya... 

dear linear, 

     kreid here.  i like your 'zine.  too bad the scene is dead... 

     anyway, what can i do besides write a t-file, right?  perhaps the second 
(or third) coming of the 'zine scene's greatest living author will activate  
the scene... some kind of revival.  i sure hope so.  no, seriously, i do.  i 
care. 

     oh - to my beloved fans: hi!  i am back.  doubtlessly you are all  
wondering where i've been for the past five, six, maybe ten months.  well,  
it's a long story. 

     the obligatory here's-where-i'm-at-now update follows.  you can skip  
this part if you don't care.  but know this -- the moral of the story: DRUG  
ADDICTION SUCKS!  GET HELP. 

     to put it quite simply, i was addicted to heroin, and couldn't muster  
the energy to write.  i was too busy scoring drugs and getting obliterated. 
when my best friend od'd this july, a sort of scandal erupted and i decided, 
one way or another, that i needed to get clean.  so i've been in rehab! 

     uh, here.  in the spirit of keeping this t-file interesting: FUCK! CRAP! 
ANARCHY! 

     i apologize for appealing to the lowest common denominator.  fuck all,  
i'm a people's author. it's my nature to insult your intelligence - it's for 
your own good anyway! 

     i detoxed at home, cold turkey, vomiting profusely all the while... and 
when i was healthy enough to walk again, of course the first thing i did was 
run off to new york city and wander the streets for six days, high on smack. 
that was in august, during the big heat wave.  that wiped me out pretty  
quick. 

     so i checked into rehab, first in new jersey, followed by another 28-day 
stint in california -- at the betty fraud center.  now i'm in port townsend, 
WA, at a halfway house, doing my thing once again.  taking a class, tutoring, 
writing for a newspaper, going to AA, etc. 

     short-attention spans, bear with me.  story's almost done.  here's a  
non-sequiter: SEX DISEASE TELEPHONE MISERY PLANKTON HEART ATTACK... 

     sobriety is all right.  but enough about me.  as for my writing, which  
you are all highly interested in: i'm writing a novel.  more on that later. 
i started it in my disease and am going to finish it clean.  rock. 

     and, uh, here's some poetry.  here's the meat.  my submission... 

THE BEST THINGS IN LIFE 

1 

half-hearted hoping for something 
at the halfway house waiting on nothing 
a withered and wet cigarette smoking in an ashtray that’s floating in the  
 ocean 

she’s been sleeping on the beach 
she stares out like an actress on a stage 
she’s been talking to strangers 
hanging out with men ten times her age 

are you waiting on something 
or just proving a point? 
hey beauty, we see you 
a little too often 
a little too often to say you’re not crazy 
it’s okay with me 
crazy and patient is okay for a long time 
a long time’s okay with me 

oh sadness 
some day you’ll get what you want, oh dear 
what shall become of your charms? 
your face like a milk carton baby will sizzle 
into alka-seltzer, apathy, and doubt 
which does not stand out in a crowd 
talking to strangers is okay 

2 

her hand’s in the pill jar 
she’s hard to the core 
she’s fast as a freeway 
cold like a whore 

the best things in life, the best things in life 

she’s running on treadmills 
she’s always got more 

whatever, whatever 
a slow death is better 

so get busy living: 
one foot in the grave 

grandmother had cancer 
john od’d last week... you see what I mean? 
a long time’s okay with me 

her tears anesthetic 
can make it okay 

I couldn’t keep her away, cuz it’s beauty 
it’s sadness aesthetic 

whatever, whatever 
a slow death is better 

3 

it’s sad to see that someday we will be running away 
to a land-locked and lonely ashtray 
passing the days 
with faces familiar and friends that we see on tv 
godforsaken perfect harmony 
sex is the key 
sex is misery.  let’s fuck each other in the street! 

I’m going out 
painting the town 
when I get home, you’re going down - 
I bought you a ring 
I pay for this house 
you better not fuck around 

it’s you and me, baby 
and sex is the key 
locked are we three 
in perfect harmony 

the best things in life are free 

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   the clever thing to do here would be to put some sort of copyright. no. 
                         http://www.phonelosers.net/ir 
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