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Free Word Press Volume One - Issue Six

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Free Word Press

· 19 Feb 2024

The Free Word Press
Issue Six
December 1999

PRINCIPIUS

Hey everyone, sorry this issue is so behind. I was under the delusion that the FWP has to be a certain way, and I was waiting for this issue to become that. It didn't, I was wrong, my disillusion is complete. My first action was to dispose of the PDF version. As it is, I do countless hours of writing for this thing. If you want me to spend countless hours on layout as well, at least do some of the writing for me. Second of all, I will no longer require each issue to have reviews, a conclusion, a Literary Regurgitation, etc. So what you have may be slimmer, but its sure is a hell of a lot more efficient.

This issue....

I - GAINSAY: The Internet, Japan, and Bad Music - Slicer pays homage to the gods of midi.
II - The Unbound : A utilitarian romantic's metaphoric journey. This month - The First Window
III- Liber Poetae : Solace, by Elliot Cole
IV - A beating heart expounds on friendship
V - Avete Philipum! Genesis 1-3 from The (Philip) Bible, inspired by Philip Himself through the Prophets
VI - The Fight of the Millenium! Christians vs. Atheists vs. Agnostics. Wrasling at its intellectual best!
X - Closing Notes

GAINSAY: The Internet, Japan, and Bad Music

by Prince Slicer

I'm sending this to the FWP because, quite frankly, no one else really wants to listen to this high-variation spiel. I suppose if they'll take poetry that takes several readings and a thesaurus to vaguely comprehend, the readers can tolerate this.

<WARNING: Slicer is a metalhead, and enjoys long rants. You have been warned.>

I turn on the radio. Bad music. Bad music. Limp Bizkit (emphasis on the LIMP part) is pretending it knows metal. Kid Rock, another MTV escapee, is blithering out crap at anyone willing to listen, which is far too many people. And since the radio only plays 20% songs that are even half-decent, I kill the damn thing and go online, looking for real music. Since I'm somewhat more Internet-savvy than 99% of the American population, I find it.

The problem is not an underabundance of good material. The problem is an overabundance of crap. To find the FWP I had to chaingun my way through several tons of what can only be referred to as mucus- a sticky, slimy material that clings to your web browser and your mind, if you linger there long enough. So I go hit MP3.com and find a few needles in that giant haystack. Sure, good metal, some nice techno, some progressive stuff that actually reminds me of... Wait a fucking minute. What the HELL am I doing here? I know where to find decent music.

I laugh my head off and search for Squaresoft midis. You heard me right. I swear to <insert god here> that a few Japanese guys know their metal and modern rock- both the fast and the slow, the heavy and the soft- far better than the biggest-name American bands. Why? Because these Japanese guys made this music from nothing but a simple sequencer so many years ago. They didn't have the remastering and production that makes some repetitive crap sound vaguely like true heavy metal. They didn't have advanced anything. But they had a tune and a synthesizer. That's right, a tune. True hard rock needs a tune.

That's right people. That shit you hear on the radio? That isn't what you think it is. That's made to sound like what you think it is. But listen to the notes of the music <DODGE!> and then tell me what you're hearing. Or better yet, listen to the MIDIs of the thing. No remastering there. Try to make a Kid Rock midi and tell me what it sounds like. If you're wondering how I can compare old RPG midis to modern recorded music, go get some midis of rock bands and tell me where the differences are. (There are differences, no bones about it, but the differences stem from the reasons for creation.) Better yet, if you happen to be good with your electric guitar, play the midis on it yourself. And before you ask me what the hell I'm doing listening to a file format that ancient, I'd like to tell you that I'm trapped on a 33.6 and there's no way I can get DSL, Cable, or even 56k speeds- so MP3s take time. Sure I can get them. But why would I?

Also, those Japanese guys couldn't get away with lyrics about Satan, killing, suicide, etc. to make music sound "cool" or "rebellious". It's irrelevant whether they would do it or not. They simply couldn't do it. Synthesized music does not accept voices. So they had to rely on their actual skill ("BLASPHEMER!!!" <Dodge!>) to make music create emotion- not use words. They couldn't talk about anything, so they needed to make someone feel a certain way just from the sound of it, which is the point of all music worth the name.

I'd like to do a test on some of these newer bands. Give the lead guitarist a single, non-electric guitar, and then mask and gag him. Give him three solid hours to create a totally original song. Put him in a room with twenty experienced metalheads, rock enthusiasts, and other appreciators, including people who listen to his music all the time (hence the mask). If he can make even ONE of them nod their head along with the tune or actually take noticeable interest, he gets to keep his hands and his voice- otherwise they're put into dog food as "meat by-products".

THE UNBOUND: The First Window

By Amanda B. Reckondwith

Outside the first window sat a small child, a girl, maybe five years old, with that glowing beauty that exists in all children of that age. She was regally dressed in velvet waterfalls lined with lace, a pompous gown fit only for a corpse being laid to rest. As she laid lazily on a garden chair, she played with a rose stem, daintily tearing off petals and tossing them to the ground. Behind her was a robust rose garden with which she seemed a destined part - to see her anywhere else would invoke a great pity. I called to her, but she seemed to take no notice, until, after an awkward pause, she looked up at me suddenly, straight into my eyes, and commanded me thus: "Close your eyes and tell me what you see." Startled, I did so. "Rain," I said. "I see that storm blowing in here. The wind - the wind is blasting the roses apart, and the rain is floating the petals away." I stopped, and gasped as a horrible apparition of an old hag, almost a corpse, in rags, formed. She stared into my face with a pair of amazing, intense silver holes of eyes in her rotting, sagging skin; her only flesh hung off of her face like wet clothing. Frightened, I opened my eyes, and was relieved to see that the scene was as pleasant as when I had first arrived. No, something had changed. Behind the garden, a long way off, the sky became dark, rumbling and flashing, veiling jagged purple mountains.

The child had not been listening to me, however. She was back to tearing apart the roses, petal by petal. I wanted to call to her, to tell her to stop hurting them, but I held back. She began to sing to herself, childlike. Petal by petal she reduced the angelic flowers to bare green stems. A melancholy descended upon me to see such desecration, but I could do nothing.

Time passed in the way time passes on languid summer days: slowly and dreamily. Slowly and dreamily, the child played in the garden. The wind began to pick up. I tried to warn her, but she just laughed. I lifted my leg over the ledge to enter her world and she stopped her gaiety abruptly. Her tiny hand was delicate and tender, and my chest swooned as she pressed a handful of rose petals into my offered hand. She bent forward and, all too lightly, brushed my cheek with her lips like butterfly wings. She smiled at me, her face radiant, turned about, and strode confidently into the oncoming storm until she disappeared behind that darkening shadow of rain.

I looked down at the pink rose petals in my hand, each reminding me of her hand and her kiss, and I trembled. A tear splashed down on them. It was night outside, the waning sliver of the moon shining brightly though it was overcast. It began to rain, harder and harder, until the petals and the rain filled the air. It turned to snow. My heart was contorting itself with each contraction. I felt its rhythm in my bloated fingertips, and I was aware of my blood, now searing hot, flowing throughout my veins. With a cry I threw the petals, and my tear, on the flagstones, just inside the square of moonlight cast on the floor, and I moved on past the window, down the ruins of a hallway, and onward towards the door.

Had I looked into the tear I had cast off of me, like guilt before my priest, I would have seen the corpse of an old woman, laughing up at me from two, fiery eyes.

I am glad I did not look.

Liber Poetae

Solace, by Elliot Cole

Moonlit snow pure and lily white
on this bright midwinter night
untouched blanket stretched out below
except for one faint orange glow
of a Jack-O-Lantern light

The pumpkin had mysteriously lit
by the preacher's child illegitimate
not a single track neither to nor from
could be seen in the midnight's pale white sun
it was known he had come in spirit

The reason he had come? We know not why
not even what he had used to light the candle by
Yet he had come, that is all
to leave here lit an orange ball
with a face cut to mourn, frozen to cry

The first time it had been found
we villagers all gathered round
to huff white puffs of frosty breath
and fret about hexes, retribution and death
and how that little boy had drowned

Then the next day we looked across the lawn
only to see that the pumpkin had gone!
Our preacher said no ill bequeath
and we all heaved a sigh of relief
but now we weep - oh how we were wrong

He came back the next night and every night since
and the preacher's now trying hard to convince
us that if we just kneel down to pray
that our grave affliction will melt away
that God's tears will our land rinse

Yet there is no crucifix this time to wield
to rid us from our once green field
the thousands of pumpkins that cover our land
as numerous, it seems, as grains of sand
But I know the boy just needs to be healed

They plague us still with their bright orange light
we cannot sleep by day nor night
and the ghoulish faces dark by day
have since driven most of us away
driven like the snow, pale from fright

We must just stand and not be weak
but wait! The boy is about to speak!
"I never wanted any of this
Father, will you just give me one kiss?
you, who never even touched my cheek?"

The man himself did not refuse
but did not bend nor speak nor move
we saw the pain in him begin
a roaring tempest deep within
his pride inside his soul to bruise

But we all begged and whispered "please
this is what our village so needs
so save us from our dreadful lot
that your own folly itself hath wrought
so will you overcome your pride and concede?"

We saw the water in his eyes had begun
and the hatred in his heart and began to shun
the pride in him that made him so
and then we saw that he intended to go
but we could do nothing but watch him run

Now every long minute the boy leaves
another pumpkin in between the weeds
So now we see what comes of a man
a priest! who had a duty but turned an ran
for a vile pride, for lies, and an insatiable greed
makes a man no man, from a rose, jimsonweed

Her

There is no way I can put into words my love for her. Its something that can never be destroyed. Altered, yes. Crushed, yes. Changed completely, yes. But never destroyed. Its the type of love where I can look at her facial expression, know exactly what she's thinking and know exactly what she needs. Its the type of love where you don't even have to finish conversations; we don't even have to finish sentences because we know what each other means. I mean, exactly. We can just be like, "Yeah, I know."

"No and then she .."

"Yeah, I know." We just know. Do you know somebody that you can tell anything to? That you can talk about anything with? Anything. From religion to orgasms to abortion to soulmates to jello and why it is absolutely necessary that it be eaten in wine glasses like on the commercial (even though they're really 'dessert cups') to the sky to heaven to how big our nipples are to reincarnation to music to the complete details of our friendships with other people to tampons to our biggest fears to how we want to live when we grow up to why we hate our parents to what we're gonna wear when we have flat stomachs to the things that songs make us think of to whether or not the little mermaid was given pubic hair when she became human to what the characters in our books look like to our favorite smells to ANYTHING. I mean, have you ever really known someone like that? How we can call each other at anytime, cry and have the other one say, meet me at the corner, then know that we're rescued. Have you ever met someone that can rescue you like that. That can just hold you and it makes everything better, because you don't usually hug. How you don't have to let go at anytime. I mean, how you can just CRY, because we're the same weakness. Because the other would cry too if it was happening to her. How the other one cries even though its NOT happening to her.

We were making iced cappucinos today, the fake, instant kind, that we make with milk (not water, like the recipe says) because milk is just better. And she was out of milk so she found this powdered milk stuff that you mix with water which is really disgusting, but its not any better to make these cappucinos with water so we made the "milk". And she was in a towel in her kitchen looking for something to wear and she says, "I haven't cried today." And I say, "Well, I'm here when you do." And she says, "Ok." So we get out the milk packet and she starts talking about how he kept explaining to her why he couldn't go out with her anymore, how he could just see them getting in a big fight later on and him losing her and how he couldn't stand if he lost her completely, and he didn't think they could find a common ground to talk about if they were going to different high schools, so he just wanted to be her good good friend and he still wanted to do things with her and go places with her. And I say, "But, you can't go from a boyfriend-girlfriend relationship to a friendship. It doesn't work that way because you DID have a friendship, and it was deep and all, but then there was this incredible attraction, and that doesn't go away. You can't just omit that emotion and keep being friends." And she says, "I know, and I don't think I could go anywhere with him and not want him and not want to kiss him...and to think I'll never hug him again...." And then she starts to cry. You know? And I just hold her, and we sit down on the kitchen floor and I let her cry and I hold her hand and I say, "But he can't pretend either. I mean, I know he couldn't stand going anywhere with you and not want you and not think of you like that. Because what he had with you and what he felt for you doesn't just evaporate like that." And she says, "I know. I just wish he could see that." And she's just crying in front of me.

And then Sarah is yelling my name because she doesn't know how to switch lines on the phone, and she kinda laughs at her then gets up to find some clothes, and I was tempted to walk in the other room with her to finish the conversation. But I knew that wouldn't work, and I knew she was ok with that because we both knew we would finish the conversation later. And we knew we wouldn't have to say, "Now let's finish that conversation we started..." or, "Do you want to talk more about Max?" because we just knew that we WOULD, that we would spend all night talking about him if we had to. That's just the way it works. Just like we know we never have to pay each other back because we know sometime in the future, the other one's gonna have two bucks for sno cones. Its like this eternal deal. Its stronger than anything.

Genesis

(as revealed to the Prophet, 11/1 AP 6)

Chapter 1

In the beginning was Nothing, but the Nothing moved not, thus time was not, so the beginning was really the end, the middle, the beginning of the end, the end of the beginning, and the middle once again. Eternity became, and it was so. Then Nothing became Something, and the Something was Something to fill all that Eternity, and the Something was with Philip, and the Something was Philip. In Him was Life, Death, the In-Between, the Hereafter, but not the Before - there is no Before. But in these Things was Nothing, for Philip had not Made anything yet to fill them.

And Philip scratched his ass, and from this holy Union sprung that which is called The Norm. And The Norm was with Philip, and the Norm was in Philip, and the Norm was Philip, begotten, not made, as one being with Philip. And Philip said unto The Norm: You are called 'The Norm', and rightly so, as my Creation will flourish to your example. My people will strive for 'The Norm', and those who stray shall be cast out into iniquity.

And Philip said, Let there be Cheap, Lite Beer. And Philip scratched his ass once again, and spit, and from that holy Purification came the Lite Beer. Philip smiled, and saw that it was good. He then created two Glasses from the Nothing in which he sat, and, seeing that they were already chilled, smiled again. He poured two tall Glasses of Lite Beer, and He and The Norm drank them, and He and The Norm both belched at once, and the Belch resounded "Om!" throughout the cosmos, and from the Belch sprung heaven and earth. And the heaven was with the earth, the heaven was in the earth, the heaven was earth, and Philip smiled.

And Philip said, Let the lights in the heaven be two in number, and let them revolve around the earth, which I have made. Oh, and while you're at it, Philip added, let the water bring forth little fishies and the earth bring forth bugs, large and small, as well as other kinds of animals and plants and stuff, each according to their kind.

And Philip smiled, and saw that it was good.

And at last Philip said, Let the earth produce Kansas, and let Kansas produce a Trailer Park, and let the Trailer Park produce a Trailer, in which I and all my chosen might live. Let it be 1993, may Bill Clinton be the President of the greatest nation on earth, and may God bless John Wayne!

And Philip laughed to himself, it was a pretty good joke, and went to sleep: it ain't easy bein' God.

Chapter 2

The earth sighed deeply as Philip, in his sleep, belched the last of the creation onto the cosmos, and all was still.

At last Philip awoke from his slumber and looked down upon the Trailer Park which he had made, and he was lonely. He felt nervous, and said, Perhaps I am not such a Great Guy after all. Perhaps I am not so powerful, nor clever, nor good, as I thought. And Philip wept, for he had no one to praise him, nor to reassure him his virtues.

So the LORD Philip in his despair took the garbage of the earth and made from it Man in His own image, and belched into him a living spirit, and made him ruler of all the earth. How?

All the earth, He said, you are to rule, and it was so - thats how.

But the Man, too, was lonely. For Philip knew not that His creation might want to Bang. For Philip knew not what it was, this Bang. So the Man asked of the LORD Philip: O Philip, I am lonely, will you not quench my loneliness and make me another like me (although not too much like me, you know as well as I that homosexual relations are abominations and perversions of the flesh), that I might Bang away?

And the good LORD Philip did as he asked, he created Woman to be his wife. And she, too, wanted to Bang. Philip understood not what this Bang was, but he made it holy, for the good LORD is good to his creation. So He gave permission to Man and Woman allowing them to Bang, but with one condition, that they might Bang in any and every way, except that they must use of that which makes clean this Bang: the rubber - for if they do not they should surely die.

Chapter Three

Now Philip knew not that in His drunken Belch he did Fart, and He knew not that from that Fart sprung the Cathi. The Cathi was evil and sought to perverse the Norm to reflect her own image. Cathi watched the LORD Philip give this commandment to Man and Woman, that they rubber their Bang. In her iniquity she snuck down, when the LORD had gone away, to tempt Woman.

See ye this, ribbed for extra comfort? How unnatural! Philip knows how much better it is without, but he wants it secret.

And Woman said unto the Cathi, the LORD Philip said unto me that I would surely die, should I not use the rubber. I cannot disobey the holy commandment of Philip.

And Cathi said unto the Woman, you shall surely not die, rather will the sperm not die and form the Zygote, in the act of Bang.

And Woman said unto Cathi, better than ribbed for extra comfort?

And Cathi did reply, yes. And Cathi smiled.

NEXT MONTH: THE FALL OF MAN

THE FIGHT OF THE MILLENIUM: CHRISTIANS V. ATHIESTS V. AGNOSTICS

by Nick Coyle

Round 1:
As the three teams square up, the Christians dedicate this fight to Their Lord God by passing around a goblet of wine and a packet of biscuits COUGH I'm sorry, I mean Christ's blood and body.

Sensing a chance for a sneak attack, the Atheists move in, ready to pummel the poor drunken sods (they're only allowed alcohol on special occasions, the dears). However, the Atheists fare badly, having terrible hangovers from the night before, when it had seemed like a good idea to get rip-roaring drunk, and slowly curl up into small balls to hide from the pain monster.

Now the Agnostic team closes in, completely sober, having spent the previous night WITH the Atheists, but arguing among themselves WHICH religion was right, and so whether they were allowed alcohol or not.

Round 2:
Unfortunately, as the Christian leader opens the packet of biscuits, he cuts himself nastily on the paper wrapping. As his followers faint at the sight of ACTUAL blood, the Agnostic leader approaches, fully intending to press the advantage.

At the crucial moment, however, he has a crisis of faith, and debates with his followers whether he should help the man, cut off his hand, kill him, beat him up or execute the packet of biscuits for drawing blood. Now, however, the Atheists have had a chance to pass around more booze, and so are feeling much better.

They move in to finish off the hapless Agnostics, but at the last moment the Agnostic leader poses them a devastating question about Life, the Universe, and Everything, and they fall back, stunned, trying to give a completely scientific answer.

Round 3:
Next, the Atheist leader has a conversation with Last Night's Partner, who tells him she is pregnant. As he tries to fob her off with regular cash donations, the Christian leader approaches, flicking through the Bible, and his Compendium of Papal Encyclicals, considering whether to force a marriage, expel the Atheist leader from the Church, or declare the child a bastard, and have all of them stoned.

Seeing his opponent's dilemma, the Agnostic leader moves in to help him out, but only adds to the problem by adding execution and castration to the list of options.

To add insult to injury, two junior members from the Agnostic and Christian ranks have put their heads together to become Lutherans, and start preaching among themselves that their previous sects were all blatantly hypocritical, and so to follow the Truth of God they would have to kill anyone who disagrees with them.

Round 4:
As the religious/possibly religious camps start throwing rocks at heretics, as ordered by God in the Old Testament, they remember that Jesus said that killing was not acceptable behaviour, and they settle down to write a letter to the Pope, enquiring as to which was correct.

The Atheists then come up with a cunning plan and lob a side of delicious ham into the Agnostic midst. The Agnostic leader picks it up, and then is sent into convulsions when he remembers that Jews can't eat pork. He collapses dead from the shock, and the Christians and Agnostics crowd around to see whether and who comes to take his soul away.

The Atheists then stick an apple into the man's mouth, and giggle hysterically at the irony. As the Atheists start playing soccer with a dead fox they found lying around, the Agnostics and Christians rip each other to shreds on the question of funeral rites. Seeing their enemies all dead, the Atheists celebrate, but the fox's buds come along to see what the noise is all about, and start attacking the partying Atheists, who all catch rabies and die soon after anyway.