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Integral Functions 09
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INTEGRAL.FUNCTIONS.009
dd/mm/yy = 15/05/96
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Integral Functions is a bi-weekly electronic 'zine that encourages both
stylistic and topical experimentation in all possible forms of literary
self-expression.
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Issues will be available on the FTP site approximately one month after
their release. Please read the instructions on the site to be sure that
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{=========================================================================}
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00000001 Dreamscapes, 1996
00000010 Metaphorphasis
00000011 Collective: 2948643
00000100 Ugan-dan
00000101 Verbalized; Untitled; Jonathan was a finger faced puppet (CY)
00000110 Electroconvulsive Therapy (ECT) - [text fragment]
00000111 TEA-TIME
00001000 Pussy Puppets do the talking
00001001 rotENroses
00001010 Selected Poems: May 01, 1996 - May 15, 1996
00001011 (No Title)
00001100 Proposal
00001101 YERF
00001110 grave groove
00001111 Copyright Information
{=========================================================================}
Dreamscapes, 1996
(exerpts from dream journal - SPS)
A young girl (5-7 years old) is going to ride her bicycle around the globe.
I am her navigator, and sit behind her on her large bike, taking notes -
typing them into a laptop computer. We are only 5 kilometres or less away
from completing our trip - we are headed towards a large public park where
we originally began our journey. The girl picks up the walkie-talkie and
shouts, "We're almost there!" into it - and a boy on the other end who is
waiting at the park says, "You'll never make it!!" As he speaks into the
walkie-talkie, I can see him standing in the park. He is jealous, and
doesn't want the girl to complete the journey. The girl begins to pedal
furiously, as I give her directions and advice on how to avoid obstacles
(construction ahead). We are forced on a slight detour, but we eventually
make it, and many people (including the jealous boy) are at the park to
welcome us back.
* * *
I was in my room at night, during a heavy thunderstorm, my light bulbs
didn't work, so I used the illumination from the computer monitor in order
to see. The phone rang, I picked it up, and a woman says (in french),
"This is France calling, will you accept the charges?", and I reply, saying
"Oui," with a wonderful french accent. The woman asks me something partly
in french but then she starts over in english...I didn't understand, so I
just said, "Yes." Then Karen was on the phone (she was on a vacation in
France), and I told her that my light bulbs didn't work.
* * *
Fragmented images from movies and television - a plane explodes flying over
the arctic, a life raft is deployed - inflating and floating down from the
burning plane, landing softly on the snow below - there is a woman on her
knees in the raft. A man leaps out of the plane above, skydiving towards
the woman and the raft. The plane crashes, and the man runs through the
air, curving and slowing down, landing on the snow mid-step. He runs
towards the woman. They are husband and wife. He holds her tightly. She
is pregnant, going into labour - holding her stomach in pain, knees spread
apart. The man says, "We can't have the baby here, it'll freeze to death!"
He then uncovers a circular lid under the snow (opening into the sewer
system). He opens the lid, and tells his wife to climb down into the
sewer: "It's warm down there," he says. They sit at the bottom of the
staircase, with him besid her, the sewage water floats by, steaming. The
woman sits part way into the sewage, it goes up to the base of her sternum.
The baby will be born underwater - "I can't give birth here," she says.
"You don't have a choice!" he says, pulling off her pants, then removing
her underwear. The woman suddenly has a large (3 feet long) fish held
leaning on her shoulder, and she says, "This is too much to eat for the
both of us." Her husband stands in the sewage up to his liver, and says,
"You know dear, this may not be an appropriate time, but I have to admit
that I am getting pretty horny seeing you like this!" He unzips his pants
as he stares at his naked wife.
* * *
A dark, maybe candlelit room (no flicker of light as candles do though)
with maybe half a dozen male figures, all moving around (as if it were a
party). Suddenly two identical but unrecognizable men pucker their lips
(light is shining on them, and my view zooms in on their faces), and they
very forcefully kiss each other. At the speed at which their faces went
towards each other, they would have (in reality) broken several teeth and
perhaps their noses...But what happened instead was, as their faces hit,
they went into each other, becoming one face - it was like a metaphor, like
two unrelated concepts or personalities in my head fused, snapping together
in my mind. The force and spontaneity of this imagery caused me to wake up
very suddenly, and as I woke up I did not feel tired or groggy - it felt as
if I had been awake for hours...full of energy.
* * *
I am frantically flipping through dozens of pages of my own writing, trying
to revise it, or come to some sort of conclusion. Kept going back and
forth...confusion.
* * *
I was a social worker, trying to talk a girl out of committing suicide - she
wouldn't eat. She said, "God won't let me." (It was Good Friday.) I told
her that God can't stop her from doing anything, and that we all had
choices, and that she could eat anytime she wanted to. A nearby vending
machine spat out an orange, a sandwich, and a can of Coke.
* * *
I was playing a holographic video game - the holograms can be projected
anywhere, so I set it up in the stairwell of an apartment building. I was
fighting with a holographic monster, when the holographic projection unit
suddenly failed, screwing up the imaging system. In order to compensate,
the machine scanned the nearest person into its memory bank (me), and used
that as the projection. So I was fighting a copy of myself, and everything
go really confusing. I was kicking my twin in the face etc., when I
suddenly realized that I was the hologram. Someone told me to feel around
my ear for abnormal skin growth.
* * *
Cylla Von Teidemann (sp?), me with her, conceiving ideas for fashion and
dance performance. I was telling her about a dream that I had about
clothing that a girl was wearing - it was a sliver blouse made of unknown
material, it was like a mercurial liquid steel. Whenever the dancer who
was wearing the blouse moved, it oozed, then reformed into its original
place when the dancer stopped moving. The environment was white, brightly
lit, with no perspective or horizon (Cylla's photography studio?).
* * *
The Kraft company now sells family sized cans of Kraft Dinner, so you can
simply heat it up on the stove or in the microwave without having to cook
the noodles and add that powder cheese stuff. It is my job to design their
new advertising campaign.
* * *
I am in a grocery store talking to a truck driver about saving money for
retirement. He is saying that I could make $100,000 in working for three
years. I am sort of smirking at him, because I don't care. I have no
plans to retire.
{=========================================================================}
Metaphorphasis
^~^~^~^~^~^~^~
Metaphor stands at the center of the art of poetry--and, in fact, the
center of ALL creative activity. In a metaphor, one object or idea is
presented as a replacement for another.
(A simile is a more EXPLICIT metaphor: An embrace is like an eye.)
Examples:
^~^~^~^~^
Sweetness is a skin.
Emotion is a cloud.
Wood is a flavour.
Hair is a sound.
Snake is a button.
{=========================================================================}
'Collective: 2948643'
(angela dreamblur)
ZOMBOT
dangley figurine
creeping moaning
dragging dead meat (feet)
grey flesh decay
(and it shows)
bone segments expose
drooling battery fluids
chips and protect plates assorted
outstick severed wiring
sparks occasional
organic / robotic meld
MECHmanic circuit-animate
over all, compute commands
what was command center, once natural
now off( life )line
stumble fumble towards some thing
---
TWIG
gleamstream light beam
illuminate chemical coated rottened meat creature
framework bulge apparent
stretched thinly tight
weak
intentional form deteriation
false eye-lie meal appeal
give in, give over
swing pretty stride
the end
turn, re-turn
bye
---
creep-crawl, and butter-fly
filth clot navigation
bare bile basics exposed
(and i exposed to them)
collective waste space place
others fish nauseate
visual icktaste
oblivious to their ugliness
or possibly nonconcencerntated
unspeckulate castle stands
differently glowshowing
defiantely laughing
---
ITCH BLEEDS INTERNAL
sensetory agitension
particles inside reside
irritatickle
painfeel grind
---
{=========================================================================}
Ugan-dan
~~~~~~~~
(JRLC)
I do what I do
And I do what I can
I do what I can
Because I'm Ugan-dan
{=========================================================================}
-= Verbalized =- Curtis Yateman
Hello... uhm.. excuse me..
Hi.
My name is.. well.. my name is not really important but I'd just like you to
know that.. well.. I know you very well now. I have been watching you for a
very long time now and.. well.. I admire you very much.. no.. thats not it..
I think I've.. well...
I think I love you.
Where are you going?
The knife? Its just for you... Just for you.. here.
Take it...
Oh.
What have i done...
FIN
---
Untitled -> Curtis Yateman
I broke apart the ones who kept me here
I'm lost and decayed and deflated
Stored inside the head of those I love
Kept safe my self admission
Kept expressed
---
< Jonathan was a finger faced puppet > Curtis Yateman
The hooks in his back kept him in a certain bond with those who
created him, he had never really noticed them until he reached the tender
age of about 12. He looked at himself one day and realized that he held
no individuality, no sense of himself.
Dammit, he exclaimed.
Jonathan dyed his skin blue and felt the hooks tighten. The pulled at his
muscles and he felt himself bleed. Jonathan sought help. He went to his
good friend ( well, only friend, now that his skin was blue ) Todd, who had
and abundance of fingers growing from every pore in his body. Todd was a
bit older, 24 years. Todd also did not have many friends because of his
deformity. Todd told Jonathan that if he made himself abnormal ( or
' freakish ' as society liked to say ) enough, the hooks would pull
themselves into oblivion. Todd then offered to do the work himself.
He took a purple switchblade knife and cut off 18 fingers that were
growing from his kneecaps. He then used the paste that one would use in
Kindergarden and pasted the fingers to Jonathan's boyish face.
Jonathan thanked Todd and then sang in glee as the hooks began to
pull. They pulled, and pulled, and..
WHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
Jonathan was lifted into the sky and floated away, for his individual
happyness took him to heaven. The only proof of his existance was a sign
left in Jonathan's room that exclaimed:
" DON'T CONFORM "
FIN
---
{=========================================================================}
Electroconvulsive Therapy (ECT) - [text fragment]
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In the 1930s, a Hungarian psychiatrist named Ladislas Meduna speculated that
epilepsy and schizophrenia could not coexist in the same body. On the basis
of this observation, which turned out to be inaccurate, Meduna theorized
that it might be useful to induce epilepsylike seizures in schizophrenic
patients. Initially, a drug was used to trigger seizures. However, by 1938,
two Italian psychiatrists (Cerletti & Bini) demonstrated that it was safer
to elicit the seizures with electric shock. Thus, modern electroconvulsive
therapy was born, creating a peculiar tribuate to the old advertising slogan
"better living through electricity".
{=========================================================================}
"TEA-TIME"
(Ceasill Mortimurque)
Two beings are seated at a white, wicker table. In a lovely, lively garden.
The atmosphere is that of freshness, chirping birds, flowers, peace, beauty,
NATURE.
Being A being:
a (stereo-)typical little british fellow
Being X being:
DEATH (clad in it's usual robe w/ scythe .. gleaming pearly white)
A : Would you care for some tea?
<picks up tea kettle.. poises to pour>
X : [no response]
A : Ohhh, not thirsty eh?.. quite alright.. quite alright.. a crumpet then?..
a biscuit perhaps?
X : [no response]
A : understandable old bean.. we'll just forget the munchiwunchies then..
so what's new with you eh?.. been busy?.. collecting souls and what
not?
X : [no response]
A : no.. me either <hearty laugh>.. though I've been sprucing up the old
gardenia a wee bit.. looking quite lovely isn't it?..
the petunias sprouted up superb!.. ah.. mighty fine petunias they are..
much much better than expected.........
X : [no response]
A : been keeping up with current events? i saw a program on the telly a few
nights ago about....
X : <scythe-swipe - deconnects A's chattering flesh-skull>
shut up
{=========================================================================}
Pussy Puppets do the talking
(found poem)
nihil
fluid exchanggnge
he smiles his hair in a large spike as
if ti impal3 thritty messiah
ideas opi9nions and anaylsisys mixed eassy
out and on her way up PAGE 28FREE! No293Goons bash tourists on
New Year's
(Police didn't immediatlyas a
hate crime
OOPS
six years after I was at courtesy of my mother
reader's forum
that i hadbeen the victimof a
she can be found at
Supreme Court
harming him within his own government
GRAND O P E N I N G
S T O R E W I D E S A L E
It's a Global Thing!3
second to none
fully liscenseeirnd
the spa
HORNY? HORNY? HORNY?
HORNY? HORNY? HORNY?
HORNY? HORNY? HORNY?
PRAISE THE LORD
smile proudly! (?) Nitrous Oxide
(l a u g h i n g g a s)
bleaching
click on oprah fat adopted lesbiance ant their thin adopted mothers
i want her to love me just
the way i am i wanter her to lose 50 poutns and
get a man BRAAAACK hug me mom
dont tuch me FATSO!
snacktimeeeee! uh hoooo broccoli stick! to late
too late?>!!!!! i was out of
only five m intues resolutionsss.!
bad hairstlye was sutptects undoing
we had been shooting the breeze and i dismissed her comment. it reminded
me ofm y great grandfatehrs jokes about celebriteds
it makes sense, she said, that we take out people at their work whtne homo
phobia think about their possilble
public image.
liquid eyeliner over the pencil-says he knows some people argue that female
impersonators mock women, but he
doesn't buy it. "We don't make fun of women,
[those images]
ludicrous.""""
a man invented high heels dont you think we should be tortured by them
too?
but what about torture by ridicule? in the late 1970s and 80s, 2was
drage
a dirty word but the tuck doesn always work opera goat queen came bathing
sut a guy throws off the
that's when the testicles get
pusehd up inside the body cavity and the penis is wrapped underneat = there
is no room for hard-ons
duct tape
B E A U T Y TI PS F R O M T H E T O P: 889!@
takes 90 minutes or less
LA
From G-spot mystery to ejaculation
Pus Ppets d the tkingin pussy puppppy
{=========================================================================}
"rotENroses"
\
. / .
x z y \ b c a
z . y _______ / c _______ a .
. x / \ z \ / \
x < rot > / . ( roses ) . b c
y . z \_______/ \ a \_______/ c
y . x / b a . b
\
. / .
{=========================================================================}
Selected Poems: May 01, 1996 - May 15, 1996
(by Gideon Hartwell)
The following collection of fifteen poems, written in the first half of
this month are submitted for the perusal of your readers. Most were
written very spontaneously, either scribbled in notebooks or on scraps
of loose paper, or sometimes written directly on the computer. Although
most of them are nothing more than small gardens of imagery, some
originate from real events that occurred on the day that they were written
(poem numbers six, seven, and thirteen are examples of this). Poem
numbers fourteen and fifteen were made by pulling individual words at
random from a jar.
-----
ONE.
he conversion
feeling as though loving a mannequin
combing his eyebrows with moistened finger-
tip, wanting to crash land on
planet feminine
(unsure of own origin)
hope returns
a soggy worm clinging to the hook
(a life with so much misery
enough to write
a book)
often thinking of cutting it off himself
a large pair of scissors
later cured with a vitamin
-----
TWO.
it is before the day awakes,
that i walk down the side of
this mountain, following the
somersaulting rivers, skating
down slopes of pebbles,
taking detours of sporadic/
spontaneous interest.
it isn't until hours later that
i climb back to you, waking you
with the subtle smell of melting
butter, forcing you to share so
many of my dimensions. eternity
isn't enough.
-----
THREE.
somewhat like white roses
building an icelandic garden
blooming rocks their
reflective petals hold my eyes
playing the game of staring
the game of sharing
eternities
collision of realities
hope to become something
anthropomorphic
in comparison to anything
my death like a smile of
sincere amusement from rita
hayworth
with whom i dance
the rocks like eggs reminding
me of beginnings keeping
in tune with what vibrates which
includes everything as far
as our accumulated knowledge
is concerned
sensual rocks
do you shiver when i rub you
your heat transfers to me
higher concentration to lower
the bridge those spirits that
sleep underneath
tickle car tires giving them
good luck in a world
that needs it
desperately your minimalist stare
scanning the fractals of
my iris
your surface area with the
pretense of endurance
soap films shattered on blades
of grass
as if
i say
hugging your shores while
your thoughts inundate me
-----
FOUR.
december 25, 2043 a.d.
(for ron scrivani)
raising glasses of cider
we almost toast his forever
humility,
standing beside
apple tree hologram
flickers rotates
in phases,
our clockwork universe
shudder,
thinking of days when
actions spoke louder
(like that guy they nailed
to the tree)
whatizname?
(thoughts ferment, as the
cider)
"anyway," someone says,
"happy birthday, isaac newton!"
in praise,
thanking him: we are the
equal and opposite.
-----
FIVE.
the water whispers her
time away
hair that sheds
songs echo back from
the depths of
sink
happiness twirls down
the tornado chamber
and away clogging
memory
-----
SIX.
notebook studies
frames her face.
......-----
-------- ____/_| \'
\ '. / { ; \
breathing out the window \ [ ; ; ; ======>
delicate gasp \ { ; ;
in inhale her '. {\ ; ;
dioxide | ;
tasting | ;
the curves in her [ ';'==-----
neck |###### -----
my spine |###########
tasting fine ######@@@@!!!
hairs on her
neck ---------------=======
when closes window hold somewhat
breath for the
rest of the /-------- ...
ride /breathing through our
/ noses === |
[ |
hair falling into place |
of beauty | ====
| ==== -----==
ideal | == .
- '. .
licking my cheek ' / | [ .
is what i imagine . / [' .
and i pretend nothing ' / /// '
happened but [' / [ ' ; .
look and smile later [ .' /'[ ' ''[ ;
' [ ; ;
asking: "what was that?" sucking my
chin.
------
SEVEN.
i am standing behind
two women kissing and
rubbing each other
on the escalator look-
ing the other way
talking if they were
MOTOS i would do the
same thing
-----
EIGHT.
prostitution (strictly business)
her knickers explode with however
i do agree under these
circumstances that your
proposal for controversial theory
under no conditions does
this apply to the insertion of
implementation of these
tools it comes down to one question
sincerely in conclusion your
product is or is not satisfactory
the fee for our services does not
include the equipment
but i can throw in a few
freebies if you are interested
in the deal we have just
discussed her body collapses in
a wet heap of exhaust
-----
NINE.
us.) our heads connected
through by mono-
filament unable to be
seen but
to small to transmit (and
you said). yeah, like,
uh. i beg your pardon
sweet kindness (if
-----
TEN.
vanquish noise
until the only sound
is the crackling
of the sun
-----
ELEVEN.
wall sky
flowers pressing up against
flattened breasts become
the hill side
bulldozed
arteries of erosion
-----
TWELVE.
hair a mesh of
butterfly ghosts
we'll migrate
north ride the
whales conquer
icebergs the animals
think your head
is a strange fruit
i am the only
one that tastes
pollen in your eye-
lashes
-----
THIRTEEN.
a car passes,
loaded with grinning figures;
briefly at me.
-----
FOURTEEN.
in the city
where the dirt snow melts
keep a beautiful water lily
cause an organic splash
to shoot through the
deep end of the
body
methane echoes
-----
FIFTEEN.
participate american bladder
breast instrument
and
friend control
computer
head smile
echo would end
-----
{=========================================================================}
(No Title)
(Leo X)
'Kwack, Kwack' exclaimed Teak, whilst waddling about like a ducky-duck
would.
Teak's Master had always thought it odd the way that his dog kwacked and
walked like that. And he'd never quite known why he would often find Teak
flapping his paws, or returning home dripping of pond-sog. So, he just
stared stupidly, as his pet dog waddled away in a ducky-dog way. Teak was,
as had become customary, taking a trip to visit his kwacky friends at a
nearby pond. The fact that they would always fly away didn't seem to
bother him. Thought would have revealed that they were afraid of a dog,
if Teak were caring or capable enough of doing it.
The joy of pond-floating was more than enough for Teak anyhow.
Teak's Master had always been disturbed by his pet's behaviour. But could
never quite figure out what or why exactly it was.
The Teak puzzle always managed to elude him.
So, after much internal debate and time, Teak's Master chose to bring his
dog in for a visit to an 'Animalus Psychologis'.
After all, he had taken more malard-madness from Teak than he could deal
with. The Psychologist determined -- after a quaint chat, and various
profile examinations -- that Teak, for reasons not yet known, thought
himself to be a duck. Now this did not come as much of a surprise to
Teak's Master. On the contrary, it seemed incredibly obvious. What a
silly fooly Master he felt himself to be. The Psychologist recommended
that Teak have a few other healthy dogs for canine company, and to deny
Teak contact with real ducks. Teak's Master was happily obedient. He
purchased two dogs, and created a prison of sorts out of his home.
It was hell to Teak from the very start.
Anti-duck confinement. Imprisoned in a canine training centre.
Teak wished only to float freely amongst the reeds like a real big,
glowing swan.
Weeks passed before Teak had his escape opportunity.
The Master was off some place, doing some thing, and the doggies were
quite absorbed in chasing a ball about elsewhere.
Teak, being quite an intelligent dog, imitated The Master's method of
door opening -- that is, the handle turn method -- and...
<click>
freedom!
Teak waddled like the wind to the pond.
Oh, how he had missed the glorious sparkling pond. Teak kwacked a kwack
of glee! He playfully dipped his webbed feet into the shimmering pond
water. It felt cool, natural, beautiful.
<blast>
Teak, contemplating a full-body dunk, didn't even feel a pitter patter of
bullets tear through his skull. There wasn't enough time for him to.
What was once the head of a dog, became a scattered assortment of flesh
bits 'n 'bits, blood, and hair.
Teak's Master laughed triumphantly and spread the reeds to get a better
look at his kill.
Revelation hit him like an ice cream truck (wham!).
He sobsobsobbed and boohoohooed.
(Because he blamed the ducks for Teak's condition, he had developed
hatred for them. And so, he had also developed an interest in the sport
of duck hunting. The possibility of this error was never even considered.)
Even a mad Teak was better than no Teak at all!
It was quite an upsetting couple of minutes for Teak's former Master. That
is, until he realized that he would never have to worry about Teak again,
and he that had two sane, barking, drooling dogs at home anyway.
The drooly dogs Master happily skipped home.
He and his two dogs lived a lovely, joyful life.....
while Teak's disfigured remains decomposed into the bank of what was once
his favourite pond.
{=========================================================================}
Proposal
(by Astrix Beauton)
"I would like you to be me," she said,
clasping me with all possibility,
as if my ego would collapse
without the aid of a demolition crew.
Her smile would be enough.
I suggested that "we can be us instead,"
in a way that denied conversion
(something transparent in her eyes).
In some ways, when our heads collide,
I half expect customers to give witness.
It happens daily, this.
When desire waterfalls, a suitable impetus,
one could transpire secrets,
secrets of harmonious unloving,
where light is absorbed more than usual
("...the crotch of your pants soaked with urine,")
is how I described the moment to her,
unlike others previous.
Not understanding, she said something like,
"We are cast from the same mould,"
which made me laugh inside.
My hands plunged through the gaps
under her armpits,
wrapping around in unified informity.
"Are all like you?"
"I am all," I answered,
as if what she said were true.
Her chin impressed my shoulder ditch,
talking behind each other's backs,
as if we were two.
{=========================================================================}
"YERF"
(anonymous)
It was like a yerbit I tell you. Yerbits! but like no yerbit I ever
seen or been. Know what I mean? Not even them mutant yerbits you some-
times see javexing with the Wurgumpets!
Might as well just say that It was like nothing that I layed my eyes
upon. I should. I really should. But it wasn't! It was like, more or
less than that you see.
Anyway, I might just as well give up on attempting to explain the
un-explainable. That is, attempt to bring into the realm of reason, that
which doesn't belong, nor even fit there.
But It -- I will refer to It as 'Yerf' -- also had a real nice set of
bloobyhumpetts on it. I been looking for a pair like that for reewps!
Reewps and reewps and reewps!
I tried to make it a deal -- barter with it if you will -- but it would
accept neither Ribders, nor Sazzits. Which basically left me with nothing
to offer The Yerf. I would have done the same in It's situation.
{=========================================================================}
"grave groove"
(LJ Mortimurque)
[dance/rap beat throughout]
do ya.. .
DIG IT ( DIG IT - DIG IT )
can ya.. .
DIG IT ( DIG IT - DIG IT )
can y'all.. .
DIG IT ( DIG IT - DIG IT )
[repeat many times]
get down
{=========================================================================}
{get COPYRITE.NFO}
Each work within this volume is copyright 1996, by its respective author.
This file may be reproduced and distributed in its current form or as a
printed document.
{=========================================================================}
INTEGRAL.FUNCTIONS.009
dd/mm/yy = 15/05/96
{end}
