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Thinking to Text Issue 02
"I will go mad!" - Arthur Dent
from the book 'Life the Universe and Everything'
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Thinking .sS$$Ssss.sssS$ $Ssss.sssS$$Ss. Thinking
`$$$$$$$$$$$$$$' `$$$$$$$$$$$$$$'
$$$s. s$s .s$$$
to $S$$ "$:$"""" $$S$ to
$$$$$ $:$ s$s $$$$$
$$$$$s $:$ $:$ s$$$$$
Text `ooo`' s$$s$$s `'ooo' Text
issue 2
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| TtT #2 |
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INGREDIENTS
(Warning: reading these stories may cause happiness, excitement or severe
stomach cramps. Pregnant women should not smoke or drink alcohol either.)
1. [This is your introduction] .:. by ideal
2. [Birthday blue bell bottoms] .:. by ideal
3. [Jimmy's 7th birthday] .:. by ideal
4. [The question] .:. by ideal
5. [Bernie the movie buff] .:. by ideal
6. [Inspired by the masked marauder] .:. by ideal
7. ['Zines] .:. by ideal
8. [Goodbye] .:. by ideal
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THIS IS YOUR INTRODUCTION
with your host: ideal
woo!
issue twoo!
yessir! TtT is back with issue two. I hope you enjoyed issue one. But if
not, oh well! i'm here to write, not to cater to your every whim. jeez!
don't you people think of anyone else but yourselves???
here are the ways you can contact TtT and get your way.
email: kevin@mixcom.com
www: http://www.geocities.com/4280/ttt.html
ftp: ftp.openix.com/ftp/phorce/ttt
Okay, well, there were no submissions for this issue but i am hoping that
will change for issue 3 (hint hint, cough cough). I did, however recieve an
online critique of issue #1 and i'd like to thank tMM for that.
well, i'm at a loss for words, so read issue 2 and maybe i will have more to
say at the end of the zine.
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BIRTHDAY BLUE BELL BOTTOMS
by ideal
My month of may has been very uneventful. I had a birthday
(woop-de-doo) and not much else really happened.
Remember when birthdays were such a big deal? Like when you were between the
ages of 3 and 13, birthdays were the best thing since chicken-flavored ramen
noodles. Three nights before the big day, you were already making
preparations and laying out blueprints on your present-opening strategy. Two
montsh before your birthday, you had a birthday list that looked like the
Oxford English Dictionary. Yeah, those were the days.
The big day would arrive and your mom would be preparing the party favors.
Those things were always the cheapest thing on the market too. If they cost
more than a buck for a bag of 50, that was way too much. The cake was
prepared, and the table was cleared so that all of your little friends could
lay their gifts on it when they arrived. Then the people started coming in.
They would all be ready for cake while you were always equally ready to open
their presents.
However, one of two things would always happen. Either the richest person you
knew wouldn't show up because of some illness or one of your friends would
show up without a present. You wanted to kill him, and you always made sure
that he recieved the smallest piece of cake. Other than that, everything was
great on your birthday. Even the family get-togethers were enjoyable because
you got to put your greedy little hands on more presents.
Those were the good ol' days. But when you turn 14 or 15, birthdays just
become another reason to go out with your friends and hang out at a bowling
alley. Your 16th birthday can be okay because that is when you are able to
get your driver's license but in my opinion, all the waiting at the DMV almost
isn't worth it.
I just had my 17th birthday, and what a day it was. A few of my friends went
to a concert and left me behind, my few remaining friends and I are not on
real good terms at the moment, and I don't have a girlfriend right now. So,
I spent my friday night driving around town and making conversation with
complete strangers. there was no real excitement or buildup. It was just
another day to me. Maybe next year will be better...who knows?
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JIMMY'S 7TH BIRTHDAY
by ideal
<squeak> <squeak> <squeak>
"Ooooh that's good Jimmy. Show grandma what you can do. You're such a big
boy now."
"That's right gamma! I'm big boy now!"
<squeak> <squeak> <squeak>
"Go a little bit faster honey. Show grandma what you can do. Grandma would
do some of the work but since I'm old and wrinkly, i better let you do it
all."
<squeak> <squeak> <squeak> <squeak> <squeak> <squeak>
"That's better. You can do it harder though. The springs in this thing
aren't going to break. They're tough as nails. You could bounce an elephant
on here and they wouldn't break. Show me what you've got Jimmy."
<Squeak> ...
"I'm bored. I wanna go play with some of my legos now." said Jimmy.
"Oh honey, you can't get off now! If you do, I'll have to show you how to
get on all over again! Just play with Grandma a little bit longer Jimmy.
Show me the strength you've got! You're such a big boy. Pretty soon you are
going to be all grown up and I'll have to start calling you sir. Just a
little bit longer. Please? I don't think I have the strength to start you
off again." said Jimmy's Grandmother.
"ooooo-kaaaaay gramma!" pouted Jimmy.
<SQUEAK><SQUEAK><SQUEAK><SQUEAK><SQUEAK><SQUEAK><THUD><SQUEAK><SQUEAK><THUD>
<SQUEAK><SQUEAK><SQUEAK><THUD><SQUEAK><THUD><SQUEAK><THUD><SQUEAK><THUD>
<SQUEAK><THUD><SQUEAK><THUD><SQUEAK><THUD><SQUEAK><THUD><SQUEAK><THUD>
<THUD><SQUEAK><THUD><SQUEAK><THUD><SQUEAK><THUD><SQUEAK><THUD><SQUEAK><THUD>
"OOOOH! <hehe> not TOO fast and hard Jimmy! My, Oh my, what a strong boy you
are. I hadn't realized how much you've grown! If you do it too hard, you
might break it! You wouldn't want that now would you? Then you couldn't
play on it with grandma anymore! You're only 7 years old and you want to get
alot of use out of it don't you?"
"Yes gramma. I'm gonna go play legos now. OK?"
"Ok, yes, i suppose we've done enough for today. Give me a kiss Jimmy. Your
Grandmother doesn't want to miss you too much when you are gone!"
<SMOOCH>
Promptly after Jimmy gives his beloved grandmother a wet kiss on the cheek,
he slides off of his brand new rocking horse. He then trots outside to his
bike where he rides off to meet his friend Timothy so they can play legos.
The rocking horse was the best gift he had ever recieved from his grandmother
but he could only take so much. She had insisted that he ride it all
morning. Jimmy just hoped that next time he went over to his grandparent's
house, the springs on the horse were oiled.
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THE QUESTION
by ideal
"Are you afraid of rejection?" was the man's next question.
The interview had gone quite well up until this point. I had been able to
pass the management skills test with a perfect score and all of the questions
the man had asked me recieved and immediate reply along with the fake smile I
gave all of my potential employers. This job was impor...no, more like vital
to me. It had everything I needed: good pay, flexible hours, a lot of
interaction with people, and many advancement opportunities. However, I
couldn't bring myself to answer the question that was just presented to me.
Unlike the others, I had to actually think about it...ponder for a moment and
carefully choose the words that would construct my answer.
"Are you afraid of rejection?" I thought to myself. That was a funny question
to ask me.
I had always been one to express myself in unique ways. I never really cared
if they were accepted or not... except for when it came to females. In
school, I had always been the manic-depresssive-hopeless-romantic type.
Hopeless because i never revealed my romantic side which, in turn, brought
out my depression. I would often become extremely interested in a girl but
i wouldn't really take action. I was the kid who sat in the back, did all of
his homework, and dept his mouth shut. Most of my teenage peers viewed me as
odd because i would write stories and poetry in my free time. These things
started to run throught my head. All of the rejections from Katie, Julia,
all of them. I became rather angry and puzzled as to why these things were
affecting me during my most important job interview ever. No matter what i
did, I couldn't shake these thoughts. My mind kept trying to figure out ways
that these incidents would hinder my working abilities. It was driving me
crazy.
These feelings could have been triggered by my low self expectancy. I guess
you could say i had low self esteem, but you'd be wrong. I had always liked
myself for who i was. The only thing i didn't enjoy, was my fear of
rejection from girls. Watching from the side lines was (and still is) more my
thing. The girls i had intrest in, I would barely talk to unless they were
already my friends. Never would i ask them out or tell them the feelings
inside of me. The crazy notion that they would be happier without me would
always pop into my head. When you got down to it, that's what i truly wanted.
Not a cheap feel or a romp in the sack, but i wantd them to be happy. It
would have been better if they were *with me* and happy but i was never one
to ask for too much.
Now, I'm out of school, and sitting here in this office answering questions
that, if answered correctly and honestly, could score me the business
opportunity of a lifetime. I looked at the inquisitor and noticed his long,
crimson tie was clinging to his left shirt sleeve. It looked similar to a
bloody sickle blade. Somehow, it reminded me of Kim. Probably because our
relationship was much like a sickle blade. We had a curved relationship with
very sharp consequences.
Kim was one of the rare people that was unlucky enough to share a rather short
relationship with me. Even though I am not in love with her anymore (nor do i
know if i ever was), I still feel a plutonic love of sorts for her. She was,
quite honestly, the most important person in my life. Our relationship only
lasted for a span of about three weeks, but it taught me an unbelievable
amount of information about myself. "God!" I thought. Why did I have to be
going through an emotional memory relapse here at a job interview? "There is
no reason my past circumstances with girlfriends should have any bearing on
this job interview." But it did. I couldn't deny it that the idea of love
was always affecting my life. There was no way that something that important
couldn't have an effect on me. The truth is, my past contact with love has
formed me and made me what i am today. So, I had to deal with it (even at a
job interview).
I thought about the rejections I had sustained in the past. Didn't these make
me stronger? Yes, in a way they did, but it was still a terrible form of
torture for me. Even when someone I didn't even know would say no to me, I
would feel a dull pain of failure. So I had reached the answer to the man's
question. The answer was yes, I was afraid of rejection. Now, I had to pick
the words to my answer carefully. After all, this was a formal job interview.
So I calmly filed through my thoughts and opened my mouth to give my
well-thought answer.
"No" I said.
The man behind the desk straightened his tie, made a mark on the paper
attached to his clipboard, and the interview went on.
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BERNIE THE MOVIE BUFF
by ideal
"Bring out da gimp."
Bernie was enveloped in darkness. The only light that could, or would, be
seen through his eyes was the dancing brilliance of the movie projector. The
color and sound spilled forth onto the silver screen and drilled deep into
Bernie's soul. He focussed in, simultaneously on each action, each work, each
color, and each intricate detail of the movie.
This was his eighteenth time watching Pulp Fiction and he acted like it was
his first. Bernie was (quite simply) a movie buff. He had aspired to be a
director, screenwriter, or an actor since his eleventh birthday. today was
his thirty-first birthday. It's been twenty years and not one of his
screenplays had been accepted, he was denied entrance to most schools with
cinema studies, and just four days ago his fiance left him. she said that
she was fed up with his "neurotic ways" and "Movie-itis". She was the one
woman that Bernie had ever truly loved but their separation proved that his
love for movies was greater.
"Want some bacon?"
"Naw man, I don't eat pork."
Tonight, Bernie was at the movies alone. Usually he would come with his only
friend, Lori, but she had recently become romantically involved with a
football coach appropriately named Biff. She used to be as passionate about
movies as Bernie, but her biological clock was grinding it's gears and she
needed to find some oil for it.
Bernie was alone. And i don't mean just alone tonight. He was severely,
internally alone. Passing the time was a chore because the screenplays he
slaved over were never accepted and he had severe trouble paying for his
acting classes. Nothing was working for him except for the movies. The
movies were always there for him. Through thick or thin, he could always stop
and say hello to the ones he looked up to the most: DeNiro, Tarantino,
Hitchcock, Chan...they were all there.
"And you will know my name is the lord! When i lay my vengeance upon thee!"
<BLAM> <BLAM> <BLAM>
The movie was over and the projection man had started it over. The comforting
sound of the hollywood gunshots did something to Bernie. They made him
realize that all of his stress, all of his sorrows didn't matter. He knew
now that movies were his salvation and that's when the string snapped and the
kite of sanity flew away.
Bernie sprung up and screamed a loud, bellowing scream of victory. He had
simply cracked. Some insane, primal instinct told him for no particular
reason that he was victorious. No one understood his passion for movies so
he decided to travel the whole road of misunderstanding. Eagerly running
around the room, he started to destroy everthing. After successfully tearing
a huge rip in the silver screen and destroying a whole row of movie seats, he
found himself in handcuffs and was being shoved into the back of a squad car.
..:1 year later:..
In a small white room with cushions on the floor and walls, Bernie sat with a
laptop computer. The tippety tappety sounds of his typing could be heard
echoing down the halls of Westbrook Asylum. He was denied the use of pencils
and pens because of their sharp, pointy edges. Ever since the incident at the
movie theater, Bernie had spent his time in counciling and therapy sessions.
Otherwise, he was typing movie scripts. The odd thing was, all of his new
scripts were sold and transformed into movies. A bigshot hollywood producer
got the idea in his head that movies by madmen would make him millions. He
was right.
Bernie's lifelong dream was coming true. His scripts were selling! Even
though he would never recieve the chance to act or direct, he was quite
content. However, since his admittance into the asylum, he hadn't cared for
money much. So instead of using his money he recieved for his screenplays to
recieve help, he simply ate the checks he was given. When the asylum officials
witnessed this, they tried to get him to sign his checks so that they could
use the money themselves. He never did. The only thing he ever used money
for was his laptop computer. The rest of it either got thrown out or digested
in his ulcer-ridden stomach. Bernie was, however, happy. Everyone left him
to his screenwriting and his occasional session of bouncing off of his
cushioned walls. Those were his favorite activities and he had a huge amount
of trouble thinking about anything other than the asylum or movies. Even when
he won an academy award for best screenplay, all he said was "I wish the asylum
would get better food."
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INSPIRED BY THE MASKED MARAUDER
by ideal
After reading Relish #3...More specifically, after reading 'the joys of
friendship' in relish #3, something just kind of hit me. I actually started
to cry. That's right, I cried. You thought all males ages 16+ were too
proud to cry right? Well, you were wrong. I'm 17 and I think that men who
don't cry are cowards. Afraid to show their inner feelings. I _feel_ god
dammit, I'm a fucking human. So, if you don't like it, you can make fun of
me, ignore me... do whatever inflates your stereotypical ego. I don't care.
I cry and I'm not afraid to admit it.
The reason I cried is because I, too, am going through some serious problems
with my friends. So Chris, all i have is empathy for you bro. I hope things
get better somehow.
His article inspired me to "Let it all out". I don't know how this will turn
out, I'm just going to write. So here it goes...
=====
I can't believe how bad it's gotten between me and Pete. We used to do
everything together. Everything! Then we let our seperate intrests for the
same girl come between us. He actually thought I was in _love_ with her. It
was true that I payed more attention to her than i did to Pete or Mike at
times, but I was interested in her. What could I do? I'm only human.
Well sooner than later, he told me how he felt (through e-mail of course
because he was too much of a coward to talk about it with me.) Then it came
down to lying. He didn't want me to hang out with him because of my
depression (which he thought was due to the girl) so he lied to me. I didn't
think friends lied to each other.
Anyways, after the e-mail, our conversation frequency decreased substantially.
We stopped hanging out together and he never really knew my true feelings and
reasons for depression. His fictional assumptions mutated into his own
delusional reality.
It seemed so weird that Pete (along with some of my other good friends) would
abandon me because of one quality they didn't like. They had numerous
qualities that I didn't like but I still accepted them as people.
It really really sucks. I love those guys. I spent the majority of one year
doing everything with them and now, even on my birthday, none of them even
talk to me. The only thing Pete graces me with is silence.
His silence makes him look like he is in third grade. It also makes me hurt
with an unbelievable pain. We don't talk anymore. It's driving me
insane. If i didn't write, I don't know what I would do.
To give you an example of what it is like, here is the last conversation
we had. It went down like this.
"What's up?" I asked
"Oh, here's a pen...see ya!" he replied as he scurried away.
Yep, and that conversation took place 2 weeks ago. He acts like he's too
cool to talk to me anymore and it hurts. I've turned into some kind of
dangerous weapon that scars his image.
I guess he isn't my friend anymore. But i still consider myself a friend of
his because i would do a hell of a lot for the fucker.
Pete, if you ever read this, I'm still your bud...Have a good life and I hope
you stay happy.
=====
Thanks tMM, I don't think i could have gotten this out without reading your
article first. I know it is a very stream-of-consciousness type of story but
you should all try to understand that it's very helpful in starting to close
some open wounds.
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'ZINES
by ideal
'zines.
there sure are alot of good ones out there. 'zines are the start of the
literary revolution. independent publishers producing works of are and
excercising their rights granted to them by the first amendment. who could
ask for anything more?
me! (of course)
ok, heres the deal. when i sit down and read a 'zine, i want to read
something that was written because the author wanted to write. the quality
of writing or the grammer doesn't even have to be that good. what i don't
want to read is a 'zine that is such an obvious rip-off. they are usually a
cheap attempt at becoming accepted in the 'zine world.
if you want the respect of mogel or someone else, buy him a car. don't let
your cat walk on your keyboard and release the results as a 'zine.
alot of new 'zines have been popping up (especially e-zines) and a lot of
them are worthless attempts at becoming an accepted 'zinester. they are very
difficult to read and are not worthy of the disk space they take up. there
is no valid motive behind them and deffinately no emotion or devotion in the
writers.
i'm not saying all the new 'zines are bad. after all, i just started this
'zine a month ago. i know it's not top-notch writing quality, but that's not
what i created it for. i created it because i love to write. i'm sure if
you read this 'zine, you probably realize that i'm really not trying to
please anyone except myself. of course, i feel very happy when some likes it
but you don't see me changing it for those who don't just for the sake of fitting
in.
now, some of the new 'zines i have read are very good. i am always happy when
a new writer releases quality work. i just don't like seeing people take
advantage of the simplicity in releasing an e-zine. it is taken for granted
all too much. i sometimes wonder how many of today's e-zine writers would
still write if releasing a 'zine was more complicated. i know i would.
alas, the passion does not reside within us all.
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GOODBYE
by ideal
Well, that's enough. I think the issue turned out pretty good. If you have
anything to say to me about it or if you would like to submit, e-mail me.
Here's the infoez again.
email: kevin@mixcom.com
ftp: ftp.openix.com/ftp/phorce/ttt
www: http://www.geocities.com/athens/4280/ttt.html (the page will be fixed
and redone soon)
I'd just like to comment on a few things before i leave you unfulfilled and
dissappointed. I have read many zines this past month and i find it utterly
amazing how much i can relate with most of the zine writers. The three zines
that i relate with the most are 'Slinky', 'Relish', and 'Jonas'. Those three
zines, btw, are my three favorite zines out there today. They continue to
inspire me every time i read them. The writers (Belial, edi, tMM, and cerkit)
have all put out alot of good stuff to read this past month.
I don't know, maybe we are all drawn to the zine scene because we DO think so
much alike. All i know is that Belial's article "Did you love her?" and tMM's
article "the joys of friendship" can really relate to my life right now. (among
other articles) Thanks guys, for producing great zines and staying true in
your articles.
There were alot of other good zines this month also. Such as DTO's love issue
(it is my favorite dto yet). I am just so sorry that i can't remember all of the
good ones off the top of my head. But whoever you are, KEEP IT UP!
I guess, i'll do some greet-type-things now.
tMM: hey, thanks for the critique of issue #1 and thanks for putting out such
a rad relish issue. You've been really supportive since i've joined the
scene and i just want you to know i appreciate it.
creed: just for being so cool and cuz you like the Smashing Pumpkins so much.
besides, who else could run a dumb ol' zine like y0lk and make it worth
reading. :)
edi: Jonas!! What can i say, i love it, i worship it, it's a part of me.
Jest: I loved your slinky submission.
i'm running low on excess words, so i'm just gonna list the others i want
to greet.
crank, Gaurdian, mogel (mogel loves me, mogel loves you), murmur, tao, jamesy,
pip, phorce, mercuri, kojak, juke, mindcrime, joltcola, bF, handle
anyone-else-on-#zines-that-i-forgot, all the doods in the 414, and anyone else
who i forgot that's not a dick to me
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__________________/\__________________
\______ _____| |_____ ______/
| | `"| |"" | |
| | | | | |
| | | | | |
| | | | | |
| | | | | |
| | | |_, | |
| | \_-" | |
| |thinkingtotext| |
| | issue #2 | |
\ | -released- | /
\| -05.27.96- |/
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"It's a metaphor for big dicks...dick dick dick dick dick dick dick"-Mr. Brown
from the movie 'Reservoir Dogs'
