From: owner-eda-thoughts-digest@smoe.org (eda-thoughts-digest) To: eda-thoughts-digest@smoe.org Subject: eda-thoughts-digest V3 #58 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 Thursday, February 17 2000 Volume 03 : Number 058 * 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 V3 #xxx or the like gives readers no clue * as to what your message is about. Today's Subjects: ----------------- ET: Pourquoi moi?(poeme) ["Seth D. Fulmer" ] ET: ~using the range of equipment available to me~ [shivergirl ] ET: Words Words Words! ["Sam Plant" ] ET: a cynical response for all you long distance lovers [kara garbe ] ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Wed, 16 Feb 2000 00:35:45 -0500 From: "Seth D. Fulmer" Subject: ET: Pourquoi moi?(poeme) Hi everyone :) Sorry about putting this in french again but this is the natural language that I was in at the time when I thought of this poem. Don't worry just skip afterwards to the translation if you don't understand french :P :) Anyhow, tonight at my fraternity meeting I asked my friend Brian about that girl if she had a boyfriend or not and he said he was pretty sure she does...Oh well...there's a trashcan outside so I had a nice place to throw my heart. And on the way back I was alternating singing Blondie's Maria and "If I only had a heart/brain/etc."(only with alternative lyrics). Then I was writing a poem(this one) in french while I was at the pizza shop waiting for my food to be finished. I wanted to ask the girl to see that new movie "The tigger movie". Oh well, I'll get over it. Life goes on :) Anyhow, here's the poem. If you don't wish to receive them anymore, let me know. Also comments, suggestions, flames, and questions are welcome but not necessary. :o) -Seth ================================= Pourquoi moi? by Seth D. Fulmer 2-15-00 Je deteste toutes les filles Je ne veux une amie mais je veux une diesse Une Aphrodite ou Persephone quelqu'une qui est tres belle ou quelqu'une qui juste m'aime Je n'ai besoin de la sexe ou la beaute du visage je prendrais maintenant un mirage Je vraiment deteste les filles les soeurs et les femmes par la rue Pourquoi ne peux-tu pas m'aime comme Dieu? Je ne t'ai jamais donner raison de me detester ou meme me blesser Pourquoi je demande? Pourquoi moi? ======================== English Translation: Why me? by Seth D. Fulmer 2-15-00 I hate all girls I do not want a female friend but I want a goddess An Aphrodite or Persephone someone who is very beautiful or someone who just loves me I have no need of sex or the beauty of the face I would take right now a mirage I really hate girls the sisters and the girls by the road Why can't you love me like God? I've never given you reason to hate me or even to hurt me. Why I ask? Why me? ------------------------------ Date: Wed, 16 Feb 2000 00:50:23 -0500 From: shivergirl Subject: ET: ~using the range of equipment available to me~ + i am a creative story teller away from the screen. i am a social drinker when i try to justify feeling like a piece of meat. it almost works till the buzz dissipates and i am left hating the glare of home-time, like the lights have turned on the truth and everyone's insides are suddenly ugly. + i knew a boy who was the biggest self-promoter ever. he really had no use for PR. that was his full-time job; he didn't have to do anything else; it was exhausting to behold. and i always wanted to say little clever scathing things like "there are no amount of daggers small enough to pierce your heart," but i wouldn't felt like i was reading a rehearsed yet unedited press release. and then i wouldn't be ready for the psychological inquisition afterwards. because he knew all the answers to the questions. and convinced me they were my truth too. + they say there are 500 kinds of kisses. do you believe that's true? would you like to find out? how do they figure out things like moist factors, anyways? + in the short-wave spectrum i have yet to meet you. the internet realm is enough for our houses, it seems. and i am sick of feeling like tybalt in this personal version of thieving-loving willie's story. perhaps it won't end up sad. everybody will live in the end. and the misery at the beginning will ensure the opposite comes true not in happily-ever-after-land, but somewhere close, on the cusp. + it amazes me to think you were just a blip on my heart's radar a year ago. this background player in this reality programming that just doesn't believe in commercials for some odd reason. i find i can no longer tolerate am or fm radio, you know. they just do it anymore. i would rather be awash in static just if it's where you would be, too. anything to get closer to you. + is it big enough they bother to compile annual statistics on it? + i want the buzzes and pops and galactic noise of it all. what does galactic mean, exactly, anyways? you know, i forget, what's it got to do with again? i mean, i know it's like part of a beastie boys' album title or something...does that impress you? that i know at least that much? (god i hope so). should i just say what's it mean *again,* like of course i knew it at some point, but just forgot it because it was so secondary, non-important to the fundamental course of my existence? would that be better, do you think? + my own little non-muscle man shortwave radio station. i like to play you; oh yes indeedy. your airwaves are unlike any breakers i've stood inside. they crash in the most pleasant way. and your receiver is always on; you stupefy me; this girl is not used to such around-the-clock attention. i like the fact i can send my exotic thoughts a lot. cuz the travel-time is just a hop-skip-and-a-jump. + whether it's banal minutae or language lessons or beaming programs of love i've never heard of, you can continue to park your heart in my spot. cuz i never learned to drive and i never knew why til now. + your technology hasn't changed in decades and yet you're the most modern man i know. and we can dance to the world band radio. so close it's like we're touching souls. + and hell yes i play with mine at night. all the time. this fetish object of desire. electronic gadget of earthly fire. won't you let go and be my ultimate retro tonight? i've waiting for a signal like yours for years.. ------------------------------ Date: Wed, 16 Feb 2000 12:13:58 +0100 From: "marty" Subject: ET: ~and my conclusions after long gone nights screwing knobs~ (and filtering hiss to find static instead, but that was too long a title for such a sublime subline.. :) (or call it just *tech*nical babble. ;) life's funny ways and waves has turned me into a silent dx'er. i always was a scanner, but for one single wavelength only; to find my own. and long-distance calls was not how i started; it's just the shortest way to take me home these days. i was always into single-sideband modulation, but now i may even chose to be the lower or the upper. and nowadays we go into microwaves; cause they do not fade, not now since i've got this 5'4 dish pointing at her 5-9 satellite transponder in his geostationary, (was) governmentally-secret orbit. and we never had to use a beam-finder, nor a spectrum-analyzer to achieve full quieting and rejection of spurious emissions; we're just using the range of equipment available to us, these days.. I-Q (in-phase quadrature) digital modes, the modern way. and here we could easily fine-tune our carriers and hear its silent tones sliding and converging like two stations tuned in phase like a tuning-fork for the ears of absolute pitch. oh.. and all those white winter nights, snowstorms, semi-dark room and screwing knobs of hy-gain-5; i was just searching for the silly gargling effects of aurora-borealis and its curtains. and sometimes i found it; "hey boi in your lil mobil on your lil iceland, how're you doin pal? is there any snow up there on your island? long time no hear, you know.. hope yer fine and dandy?" it was all intermediate frequencies; maybe they were all those transitional figures, and helped beaming my anntennae in the right-and-narrow bearing direction to find my own auroral activities; my northern light, brightest star on my western sky and around/abroad. my soul's final polar-bear-haven, and hometown. "they say electricity is travelling at the speed of light; sometimes it just takes light-years till you find it." (sometimes it finds you too) and remembering using quotation marks just to make it look like i stole it from someone else's mind; to make it seem more intelligible, somehow, that it came from my own. "moon-bounce has always attracted me, by the way. they say it takes quite-a-lot of power to get there and back.. well, my aurora must be somewhat different from their's; you see.. here we're talkin' pico-watts." they too say sun's got spots, and the solar flares burst more abundantly this year, and rather frequently too; easily it turns on my humble equipment, and the static tidal-crashes erupts from my speakers.. like petit vulcans. so.. finally we're home; and PR, to you and me now--means just.. Persistent Relations. ¤ - --------- t.s. writing at werk seems to have some sort of *tech*nical influence on the mind and matter.. hmm? ;) i love you baby. you never stop amazing me.. and mitt svenska hjärta. :o) ------------------------------ Date: Wed, 16 Feb 2000 19:07:08 +0100 From: "Claudia" Subject: ET: Poem You are me I am you. This piano is guiding my steps through the darkness of your past. My heart is bleeding my eyes are crying. Your pain is mine now. I finally see I finally feel what time has always hidden what makes my existence complete. I needed to bleed with you I needed to die with you. I touched your anguish I licked your wounds I burned in your rage I killed in your hate I melted in your fears. I saw you crying on your bed I saw you beating your head against the wall I saw you torturing your innocence. My baby, all alone sitting on the edge, lost in a labyrinth of memories. A prison in your mind A knife in your heart. Your sorrow is in my soul now Your pain is in my death now. My heart is in your chest My tears are in your eyes My smile is on your lips. Our souls are bound together for all eternity. I am you You are me. ------------------------------ Date: Wed, 16 Feb 2000 13:03:41 PST From: "Sam Plant" Subject: ET: Words Words Words! Hello all you out there in LA LA land *grin as opposed to TV-Land*. I feel wordy and have some more for you. Feel free at any time to smack me in the head if I spam you all too much *grin*. Not too hard though. Emptyness Barren, wasted ignorance of the heart. Emotions flow like a flood tide. Drowning Deepness, haunting pain of the soul. Pain seeps through with zeal. Emptyness Damn emotions Sensitive to external thought. Trauma to my brain. I feel alone When I know I'll never be loved. I see others Joy in faces I share through solving. I know the technicalities I do not know the play. I am the seeker. I look for hidden signs Tumultuous paths taken by a blind man. Or am I a man at all For, is man the type of man I wish to be? What do I see in his eyes? Do I see fear? Do I see hurt? What exactly is it that I see? I see me. I see myself looking back at me with understanding of pain. I see a plea for security from something gone beyond control. I see peace of mind in who I am, but fear who I am to others. I see humility shrouded in a facade of arrogance. It is not right of me to judge, it is not right of me to make fun. For in all things, he is me, and I am him and in the end. In the end, we are one and the same. Different paths taken by similar identities. Different wants, but the same needs. In my facade, I have driven off an ally of great compassion, and the ally is myself. Tonight I dream better than sleep. Waking, gasping for breath. Sufocating on wishes and desires. Not much will come Yet, what does, will charish you. Laden with a task I trudge on through my life So much work can mask The burden in my strife. *ACK I RHYMED!!!!!* I feel time's press on my back Pushing air from my lungs. I know I must do But do I do not. Finality draws near A line of sheer death. Ending the pressure so another may come through. Thank you for reading my words Sleep well, and dream better. Sam Indefatigable, yet not unconquerable. ______________________________________________________ Get Your Private, Free Email at http://www.hotmail.com ------------------------------ Date: Wed, 16 Feb 2000 16:47:45 -0500 (Eastern Standard Time) From: kara garbe Subject: ET: a cynical response for all you long distance lovers You think it's working out across all that space and time and distance of unanswered questions and unresolved longing? Well I hate to say it but someone out there got his signals crossed because that kind of shit just don't happen in real life, baby, it's the buildup to the buildup to the buildup and it's so god damn huge in your head that reality can not possibly fail you for years because you just will. Not. Let it. But those years do come to an end even when you think they never will. My words and your screen can only hold so much desire, even an unlimited heart starts to break when it's stretched across thousands of miles and too many glitches on a screen leaking out fragments like "You. Are. Mine." Well those valentine day candy hearts have decided that the world view on love exists in "Fax me" and "Email me" but any one of you whose life has been reduced to that should know full well that there is nothing romantic about those umbilical cords stringing you out across a modem, because I was a breech baby, baby and my head has gotten all turned around and my eyes only see the upside down shapes of all your oh-so-good-intentioned promises that just couldn't survive that long birthing process. You think two years is long enough, baby? Oh it ain't never long enough when you're together but your heartbeat has eluded me these past months and I can't feel your skin under my teeth so let me just bite down hard and when I start to hear your screams the doctor will ready up the bed and we'll see just what comes out feet first, you or me or all those words dissolved into ones and zeroes and a million tiny signals that used to mean something. ------------------------------ Date: Wed, 16 Feb 2000 18:31:47 -0500 From: shivergirl Subject: ET: (no subject) + darcy says not to forget my feelings. she thinks my reaction is quite normal--like grieving. ian is dead. kubler-ross' stages apply. but that irish curse. do i still mean it? there is no point trying to make sense out of the world; my first mistake was in thinking i had. + i don't hate what she is, but i don't want to be her anymore. ------------------------------ End of eda-thoughts-digest V3 #58 *********************************