May 1997

Hello, all my little devotchkas, keep your groodies off this one this month, it's a bit hard to viddy what I'm trying to say. But, undaunted, here's another month, another segue into the wonderfully rapturous and uplifting world I call my life. As is my customary procedure now, this is being written a full DAY before the deadline for this column, and while I'm ill as well. (Note to those who care about such things: I have been sick now three times this winter/spring, which is more times that I've been sick in the past two years combined. It's gotta be the stress.) So, this column might not be as funny as I'd like it to be... But such is the price we pay due to life, love and *snrrkk* sinus pressure.

Things in general aren't looking so hot around here. Winter's back... again, my grades are in the toilet, my main band fell apart (gee, I hate guitarists), I'm ill AGAIN, my original column isn't on the web due to rapturous "server error," I haven't written any decent work (more on that later, too) for months, and the person who I am desperately in love with as been relegating himself to activities unknown and I never see him. And now 10 people know I'm gay and I still am 100 percent uninvolved.

So, it's not so great here. However, on the up side, I did come out of the closet to another person, I went to see Star Wars and loved it (I now apologize to all my other trekker friends for liking, my god, Star WARS, but hey), and my other band endeavor is writing some pretty good stuff right now.

Despite the fact that he hasn't been around much, mon amour, the German kid who I want desperately to turn out to be gay, is still proving to be strange as ever. Through various happenstances, he and I found ourselves sitting looking out at a brilliant sunset on a windowsill in the eveningtime last week. I move around locally a lot, virtually once every year, and I had brought up my several options of where I would go next year. The conversation went something like this:

HE: You know, I don't know where I'll be next year, either.

ME: Yes, you do... You'll go back to Germany when the exchange program ends and hopefully, you can come back next year.

HE: But that's it... I can't come back next year. I've got problems with immigration if I stay for more than this year. I am certainly going back to stay.

ME: But what about me?

At this point, this is what should have happened... At least it's what I'd've liked to have happened:

HE: You could come with me to Germany, I guess. If you really wanted to.

ME: Really? But I couldn't afford it...

HE: Ouch. I could take care of that, I suppose.

ME: You would do that for me?

HE: Of course-well, I've been meaning to tell you this for awhile now, but, uh...

ME: What?

HE: I like you. A lot. Probably in a different way that you suspect. Um.

ME: *speechless but insanely happy*

HE: I'm gay.

ME: *barely spitting out the words* Y-yeah, uh, me too...

SOUND EFFECTS: -Lush violin buildup-

HE:...and I love you. Er, that is to say-

ME: You don't need to say anything else.

*we kiss as the violins come to a huge crescendo and fade to black*

REALITY CHECK! Here's what really happened--

HE: I don't know.

Hm, not really as exciting as what my fantasy dictates.

I think, for my own enjoyment and torturous devices, that I will answer some general "repeating questions" that keep popping up in my email now that I have this column. Note to thicker-headed readers: if you send me mail with one of these questions in it, unprintable things will happen to you.

Q: Are you weird or something?

A: Tell me, do you feel a hankering for beer and football coming on? How about if I just hold up this very large foam hand over your head?

Q: I'm in honors classes at my school./I'm smart too/Mail me, I'm kewl.

A: I really don't care. As for the last one, get any "hacking" done recently? At your "sk00l?" *hahahahaha*

Q: I'm a wannabe and think you'd be a good leeching subject.

A: Well, at least you're honest. You are permitted to leech off of me if you do what I say because, while you will be tormented to no end, I never cut my end of a bargain and will make sure you get some valuable info so you can at least PASS for interesting. And if you believe that, you really WILL email me.

Q: Do you like Smashing Pumpkins/Douglas Adams/Lou Reed/Bowie/Camus/Howard Stern/Rush Limbaugh/Hitchcock/Rocky Horror/Clockwork Orange/Bush/Verve Pipe/Apple Computer/NeXT/women/Germans/yiddish/D&D/Star Trek/Star Wars/Red Dwarf/Vonnegut/Lennon/surrealism/... etc. etc. etc.

A: yes/yes/is god/is more of a god/is okay i guess/used to/never asshole/very much/"Let's do the time warp again!" (more on this in months to come)/it's my mail addy no gee i don't like it moron/absolutely not/not really/kinda good machines tho/neat case design/only as friends/a lot/i know 12 words incl "schvartzer"/when i get the chance to actually play it/yes a lot/only some/boring sometimes/much/a lot/dali is good but a lot is better/"whatever." *make that Clueless W-thing in an absolute mockery of everything*

The huge quote I gave last month was "Blackout" by David Bowie, from the "Heroes" album. Congratulation to any people who may have gotten it right, I don't know 'cuz the column just went out yesterday. I suppose I could have one this month, It would be a lot easier than trying to fly, which is the other thing I've been taking up recently. It's also become my new comparative for everything, as in:

THEM: Would you like to speak to this congressperson about legalizing ss marriages?

ME: Would it be easier than trying to fly?

I will probably not be speaking to any congresspeople this month. Flying IS interesting, though, it rather involves throwing yourself at the ground and missing... but I digress. Here's a quote for you all before you read on. Remember, send all submissions to yggdrasil@null.net and tell me the group and the song (and the album, if you wish) and I really WILL send you something, I just haven't figured out what yet. So:

Water was running
Children were running
You were running out of time
Under the mountain
A golden fountain
Were you praying at the Lares shrine?
But your city lies in dust, my friend.
We found you hiding-we found you lying
Choking on the dirt and sand
Your former glories and all the stories
Dragged and washed with eager hands
But oh your city lies in dust, my friend.

I don't know if anybody will get that, it's sorta obscure. Perhaps I can cope with this, but OH MY GOD, I HAVE A ZIT. Will the suffering never end? Gosh, my life wearing away I can deal with, but ACNE?

That was sarcasm. I know I'm not getting my point across very well, but bear with me, I'm not in a clear state of mind and I feel anger coming on about that subject.

I was looking through back issues of Oasis the other day, and it occurred to me that there were a few people who were really getting on my nerves and belong in the category of people who would actually say the last phrase above and REALLY MEAN IT. It is terribly scary to think that there could be people as superficial as that lurking amongst us, but it seems so. It's really difficult for me to rip away on this without mentioning any names, ---, but if you have any semblance of human character, you cannot honestly say that the sole reason you find someone attractive is based on their appearance. I speak for what stereotypers would probably refer to either "the artsy people" or even better yet, "a bunch of weirdos." You see, to me, superficial popular appearance (such as if your hair is perfectly done or not) is NOT all that matters.

You see, I don't fritter away my life tying to be popular in relation to other people. Myself and my comrades (I really hate using this "royal we," but I have to in this case so I can speak for others) have more important things to do, like write DECENT music, REAL poetry, and other INTELLIGENT things. Some people with room-temp IQs can't take the way we look or act or anything else we do for that matter. So? That's the breaks, man. And most importantly, I DON'T go around saying arrogant things like "gosh, I AM pretty good looking," or "gee, I have girls all over me and I'm gay. Oh, darn." Wow, that wasn't pompous. If anybody finds ANY SINCERITY AT ALL in that last one there, which is an actual paraphrase from something I read, mail me. (That's yggdrasil@null.net now.)

Those aforementioned stereotypers call it (gag) nonconformism for a reason: I don't CARE about following what society tells me. Fashion sucks, popular music is PATHETIC for the most part, runaway consumerism is on the rise, and I tend to not pay attention to that hypnotizing rant coming out of that screen tuned to that certain muzak video channel. We are the people who know why it's funny when commercialism-centered radio stations blithely play "Big Bang Baby" or Nirvana when they should OPEN UP THE DAMN CD and READ THE DAMN LYRICS. We are the people who feel a blow to the chest whenever somebody walks into one of those alterno-culture stores in the malls and buys a $40 Stussy shirt that was modeled after a shirt from 1978 that could be purchased in its original form for $2 at the Salvation Army (where the money would go to those who really need it, not to fat, overbloated, trend-conscious, money-sucking leech designers). We are the people who know that "for-profit news media" seems like a bad idea for some reason... Yes, we are the REAL people of this world. And they know it when they see me, or any other one of us. I'll have my black lipstick on, tripping over small children and other underfoot objects, and I'll be humming the bridge of "Jesus" by the Velvet Underground. And when they ask us what we think of the latest Alanis Morissette song or the new Rolling Stone, we'll just plod on by, muttering "sad, man, sad." Because that's true. It is sad.

So I urge you, stop and LOOK AT WHAT YOU'RE DOING. Do you want to be part of this shell, this TRASH culture that has been carefully crafted for you by the older, more clever generations? If you fit the description of the modern teenager as above, if you think you're pretty damn rebellious and cool because you act like a proletarian when your mother and father are doctors and rake in hundreds of thousands of dollars a year, wake the FUCK up. You are a LACKEY. You are manipulated by television and the people older than you are who tell you what to do. And you think, "no, not me, I think for myself..." HA! You've fallen in and have become their toy - you're thinking exactly what they want you to think. All commercials on TV are carefully crafted and made to propel the message of fighting back against your old-fashioned elders; this just so you can be living in your own self-contained cocoon with your other cog friends so you can all play at being an "individual" where in reality you are TOO FUCKING NAIVE to realize the goddamn truth.

Religion was the opiate of the masses in the centuries past, the thing that the slaveowners fed the slaves in the 1800's so they wouldn't run away under the foolish pretense that their rewardless turmoil on Earth would be rewarded in the life to come. YOU ARE THE SAME WAY. The opiate now is MTV, the Levi's commercials, the utterly comical exploitation of the avant-garde culture when somebody with the cash caught on that it would sound cool if you, too could be part of some "elitist" culture of poets and painters and writers. You are no more a poet or a painter or a writer than Ginsberg was a republican. It is truly UNFORGIVABLE that 10-year-olds are wearing Airwalks and baggy clothes and a wallet chain and calling themselves "skaters." It is also unforgivable that rich white teenagers call themselves the same, whatever exact age they are, just because some stuffed shirt on Madison Avenue decided to exploit the culture of true people who use a skateboard and make it into a multimillion-dollar profit.

If you're not poor, DON'T ACT LIKE IT UNLESS YOU WILL WILLINGLY GIVE UP ALL YOU OWN AND TRADE PLACES WITH A PERSON YOU ARE MOCKING. That is what is happening, you are MOCKING me, you are mocking the lives of the people who would give their right foot to have as much money and wealth as you do. All gay people have "done time" in a sense, but if you act like this, it nixes the virtue straight out the window with the $300 Armani curtains.

Hate mail and/or letters of agreement from the brothers/sisters out there can be sent to yggdrasil@null.net. All I want you to do is just REALLY think about that. It needed to be said, no matter HOW it sounded. And if you agree, please know that I still don't feel comfortable for taking on the "voice" role here-it kinda goes against-yeah, I know. Still, SOMEBODY'S got to say that. So, look, people, throw away all that shit you've collected as Joe Alternative and try doing something against the people who manipulate you IN TRUTH, not in those same people's simulated "real world." That's how I feel, anyway.

Or maybe it's just the sinuses pushing against my synapses and making lue horsed sjf fjdksk dks, hjdsk djdj.

*Sorry for the length. The author assumes no responsibility for any of the statements he's just made and has a free razor-supply service for those who enjoy listening to Marilyn Manson. Please don't hate him-he's a real person, which is a virtue nowadays, in case you hadn't figured it out. He can be reached with ideas on cold fusion or the ups and downs of marriage to animals at yggdrasil@null.net*

PS: Oh, and Alan, if, on the off that you might happen to be reading this, mail me or get in touch with me somehow you know where to find my address if you need it. (You should know if you're the person I'm talking about just based on the content of this column-c'mon, you're a "skater" now/talked to you a few months ago/you wanted to know why I was dressed in black/you mentioned something about Manson and I gagged/I was thinking that you'd sure changed from the 6th grader I'd left behind numerous years ago... any of this sounding familiar?)

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