From: owner-eda-thoughts-digest@smoe.org (eda-thoughts-digest) To: eda-thoughts-digest@smoe.org Subject: eda-thoughts-digest V2 #77 Reply-To: eda-thoughts@smoe.org Sender: owner-eda-thoughts-digest@smoe.org Errors-To: owner-eda-thoughts-digest@smoe.org Precedence: bulk eda-thoughts-digest Sunday, March 21 1999 Volume 02 : Number 077 * If you ever wish to unsubscribe, send an email to * eda-thoughts-digest-request@smoe.org with ONLY * the word unsubscribe in the body of the email * . * PLEASE :) when you reply to this digest to send a post TO the list, * change the subject to reflect what your post is about. A subject * of Re: eda-thoughts-digest V2 #xxx or the like gives readers no clue * as to what your message is about. Today's Subjects: ----------------- ET: one big rambler :P ["shivergirl" ] ET: BETRAYL [winters ] ET: more ramblings (sorry) [winters ] ET: ... [Rachel ] ET: ... [Rachel ] ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Sat, 20 Mar 99 01:44:32 PST From: "shivergirl" Subject: ET: one big rambler :P > 17 march 1999 (free association) > thoughts in the dark: > a dear friend is definitely a degree > of oneself, demanding the other 2 per cent, > no longer satisfied with 98, > making me feel d.i.d. and worried, all sullied > for introducing tori > discs, driven to forbidden > places where eerieville welcomes emotional bungie- > jumpers who feel like they're on an anti-depressant (speed) > > where enough of being enraged already causes > esteem to be mutually exclusive in an extra-special > relationship, where expected fantasies > finally peaK > (felicity) > > first, finally, fits the seed > beautifully, five fingers flood and > FORCE friendship to fully-realized > f u m b l i n g > and general, individualized greed > > goddess glad, commanding mr. gradual to > flee, grasp goodness in the light, swallow > it in a grin in the middle of the night, > gasping pleasure inside a hat > hamlet wore > hate having me > so healthy, her here > (herself hidden) > (him hinting) > his hits > how humourous > (hurting) > so i'm ignoring the idea > of imagination, improving my > poetic inspiration, romantic situation, > life interpretation > justifying kindness > the king's ransom, lending like > and love a little, to the man > in the market for my heart * > special, with spirit, still a story- > teller, the subject her own personal sun > supposedly surfacing, and they think time > touches the tip of meaning (this time), instead > of just driving a tractor over truths, trying > to plough through, even if she's twenty and > not the type to deny being > un plugged > or understanding us, even vaguely, a note > short of validation veiled in rising "stardom," > choosing to use her words electronically, tres > risqué, for further future revelations.. > and the voyeur is walking across my dots, > wanting to warm the way it was, the way > it will be, what the window will bring > with the wolf > but worse could happen, > (like when you publish the wrong thing) > yes, yet you are your own personal zero in > the End > (big Hug!) ------------------------------ Date: Sat, 20 Mar 1999 12:14:43 -0800 From: winters Subject: ET: BETRAYL BETRAYL i spent 3 and a half years in the passenger seat of her car while the wheels went around we lived off of $3 and slushies everything was fine we were living the american teen dream (lucky for me) 3 and a half years going to that little park me sitting on the left swing, her on the right sometimes i could swear we both we're gonna fly away into the moon 3 and a half years searching for a shooting star you and i, we were living the american childhood dream the walks in downtown, skipping class for a poem reading books, drinking coffee i spent 3 and a half years trying to live the american dream with you this shot glass got a crack that was too big now i can't stop the gin from spilling out my hands are begining to bleed and i realize the truth: she wants nothing from me. three and a half wasted years now we are both living the real american dream of betrayl and greed something good and now turning sour with time our faces on the covers of the papers look at us! we have become nothing our souls out for everyone to read because sometimes even reality feels like a bad dream ------------------------------ Date: Sat, 20 Mar 1999 19:44:11 -0800 From: winters Subject: ET: more ramblings (sorry) i need my toenail to get painted (the car trip) in the car, you and me. sometimes some of life's hardest conversations are down in the sufforcated space of a car. you and me, that makes two. our topic was three. your eyes are the same as mine, our flaws are similar. you have wrinkles from years that have gone by, i am still young with freckles. you tell me that i have changed, what has come of your precious little one! i can't answer that at all; why can't we just drive in the car? without questions that have no answers. there is so much i want to say to you, but i don't. i won't. you tell me that my priorities are messed up, somehow i'm thinking "wrong". but how i ask, my grades are fine. isn't that all you care about? no darling you say, my frame of mind is "funny". how can that be, i ask? everything i do, i learned it from you. "why don't you get your toenails done, you fingers painted in pink, your pale skin tanned, stand up a little straighter, don't be so ugly". what can i possibly say to that? you ask, how am i gonna find a nice man dressed like that. shouldnt i wear a push up bra, shouldn't i own fake eyelashes. because somehow beauty in your mind is found by painted toenails, and somehow i should find happiness in a tube of lipstick. i'm not good enough for you, that's what i got again from the conversation. there i am again, always trying to please someone else. we finaly make it to the drive way, the home where we spend most of our arguements, the topic ends there, you give me a wink and tell me that my world would change with a good makeover. i want to scream at you, a mother shouldn't say these things to her daughter! why can't you be proud of me? i try so hard to just show you my spark, the spark father sees, the spark my friends see, but you don't. for my lips aren't red enough and my skin is too pale. you see nothing in me, and you ask why i never go on long drives with you. distance they tell me that i should go for someone near by that writing letters is nothing the physical touch is everything. they say, he is probably screwing some girl right now your just gonna get your heart broken. they tell me it can't be a mature love as he doesn't see me on my bad days. but i tell them i love the man what else is there i can do? he speaks to me for hours and even though there is an ocean i feel as though he is right next to me somehow i don't see the point in pure lust and sex. i hold onto the memories of being with him near the english countryside in a northern british factory town, more then the memories i am making now so people say, you are dreaming your glory days away because somehow the false friendships are supposed to mean more then the 12 page letters and somehow the blank looks are meant to hold more then the truth of a friendship which is often misunderstood kat ------------------------------ Date: Sat, 20 Mar 1999 23:31:13 -0500 From: Rachel Subject: ET: ... @~Angels~@ Searching I tell myself in the end only kindness matters I try to follow that and preach to others the goodness in those words But when others are gone I snip I scream I yell I snap Is this what I am trying to tell people to do Or am I just a fake and a phony Telling some one what they should do And not doing it myself Now I stop preaching to others And I am searching to find the meaning in those six words A phrase that means so much For if I kept up what I was doing Those words would hold no meaning But shallowness and greed @~Rachel~@ ------------------------------ Date: Sat, 20 Mar 1999 23:52:33 -0500 From: Rachel Subject: ET: ... The Glitter Dress A lady walks down the street to the apartments across from her trailer She has on a glittery dress with a rip on the side Reminding me of her Once a shining spirit but now worn with age, experience, and misfortune, Like spraying perfume on in the morning and at the end of the day it has worn off Except this lady, her soul and her spirit has been worn after years of useage Not just one day, god if it could only have been one day I watch her walk into these apartments a druken man answering the door I can hear the sounds of love-less sex And smell the smells of beer, cocaine, and a love that was never there and never will be The only real emotion I can sense is anger For after this fake rendevou this helpless lady asks for her money And a man with bear on his breath and pot in his hands angerly throws her against the wall I can see all of this through one single window And I hear the door slam as the lady walks out with blood on her face from a broken beer bottle And I think that her heart must have been pierced also But what was I thinking, this happens everyday she must be used to this How can all of this happen to one person? How can some one go through with this? I wonder all of this as I watch the lady walk to the apartments the next day In a pair of bright red heels from the Salvation Army And the same dress as the day before Except this time the dress looks even duller And her spirit seems even more sad And her heart full of broken promises I long to reach out to this lady As I see her emotions all bottled up inside that tiny, used, body Sometimes I wonder if she'll ever sail away..... @~Rachel~@ ------------------------------ End of eda-thoughts-digest V2 #77 *********************************