From: owner-eda-thoughts-digest@smoe.org (eda-thoughts-digest) To: eda-thoughts-digest@smoe.org Subject: eda-thoughts-digest V3 #131 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 Friday, April 14 2000 Volume 03 : Number 131 * 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: i dont wanna stay young [Katherine Alexandra ] ET: hare krishna [kara garbe ] ET: PLUR [Caroline Platt ] ET: another interesting perspective [shivergirl ] ET: help [courtney gordon ] Re: [ET: kissing, the list, poets, & other things] [Naomi Vaughn ] ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Thu, 13 Apr 2000 23:51:06 -0700 (PDT) From: Katherine Alexandra Subject: ET: i dont wanna stay young i dont know if i would want to recall things exactly the way things were....like james said....as i see it, i have repressed, and i have avoided and i have deleated, and added, and edited so many things from my past...and this is all my brain being much more advanced then i am, and knowing how much i can handle. things were bad, and things were bad for all of us, i'm sure of it....but i think my brain works at coping through some repressed thought, and some skimming over major details. but it's easier that way for me. i dont think i could handle, going back to being 7, with what was going on...i like being 19. its safer. there is so much more control now. i can scream louder, bite harder, and really live happiness more so....its hard to admit, embrace, accept, the past...to relive it, well...that would be a living hell. and if i could stay at being 19...well i would hate that as well. i am really looking forward to being 33 one day with my childrens art work on the fridge. maybe i will never have any rugrats, but i know there is so much more to life then what i see right now. perspectives change, opprotunities are given, some are missed...the idea of eternal youth sounds awefully depressing...imagine having to watch all of your friends grow old? with you young...watching them all die. mind you this is late at night and i am very tierd. i'm not sure if any of this will make since. if it doesnt disregard it as another incoherent ramble from me. love, kat __________________________________________________ Do You Yahoo!? Send online invitations with Yahoo! Invites. http://invites.yahoo.com ------------------------------ Date: Fri, 14 Apr 2000 11:17:56 -0400 (Eastern Daylight Time) From: kara garbe Subject: ET: mortality someone posted quite a while ago asking for writing about death, and i don't think anyone responded. well, here you go. i write enough about death to fill up bibles of it. ~kara April 14 2000 And everything you pray to never did come out right, this time just another box of candy and swollen hearts. Three more flowers for the grave, the hardest part is finding someone willing to carve out the gravestone. Dates that are much too close together. Have you ever walked around a graveyard, just staring at the month, day, year? One half of a married couple who outlasted the other by decades -- grief I have never been able to handle. And that, not even my own but strangers, names carved into stone and a thousand faces I have never looked into, never even lost the chance to know. They were dead before I was born and still I can feel the tremors in the earth from where they once walked, the dreams they may have shared with me, or my nightmares fulfilled in their histories, too long to record. My great aunt, a widow three times over has her name carved out in three different graveyards. She brings flowers on their birthdays, stepping carefully around her own name, wondering where and when she will be buried. Two men will be left alone forever. It's just that sometimes I can't see past the earth, the brown soil that I love but not enough to be set beneath it for all of eternity. Can you conceive of a time so long? So infinite? And when the sun dies, and it expands and consumes this planet, what then? Our bodies will be gone, having melted, been destroyed, turned into fuel for a sun which, like each of us, will one day break its contract with Life. The things you think are most eternal will one day die, and when they go, they take you down with it. And still it is not the end, still the past cannot be obliterated, but where does its memory go? One day everything will be destroyed, and what will any of this have mattered then? What grades I received in school, who I fucked, who I killed, who killed me. All of our petty tragedies and successes, failures and glories will be reduced to light and ash and light. And light. And burning out, will it know what it consumes? The sun will expand to three times its original size before it finally collapses on itself and loses all heat. Just as we do, skin peeling back from bone, cold as glass to the touch. But that's why we don't touch it, don't leave grandma's bones hanging on the wall in the living room. We hide death, why? None of us wants the constant reminder of it in our lives. I once saw this episode of South Park where they dug up this guy's grandmother, and it was the most unfunny thing I have ever seen. It made me fucking want to puke. But why? Cultural taboo? We just can't handle what mortality does to us, stringing us up on its clothesline to dry out in the sun. Just another set of wrinkled skin today, ah, a stain that won't come out, so we bury it beneath the earth and assume it can take care of itself. While the rest of us up here on the flipside, we suffer the loss and tell ourselves it's okay, and all these buried bones take their unconscious toll on us, wearing us down into splinters of bone and nail. I cannot come to grips with my own mortality. ------------------------------ Date: Fri, 14 Apr 2000 12:06:54 -0400 (Eastern Daylight Time) From: kara garbe Subject: ET: hare krishna a few of you have seen this in a longer prose version, but here i tried to turn it into more of a poem. comments much appreciated. ~kara 4.11.00 Hare Krishna I want to touch the divine, the smoky runoff of your fervor, knowing what you feel when you are introduced - "he's a real living monk" - like some saint or holy gasping thing. I want to reach the Godhead in you, touch something divine as you stand there, shifting on your feet in time with the chanting, clanging two small cymbals caught between long fingers. You close your eyes. Does transcendence hover on the infinite expanse beneath those eyelids? It seeps from you. If only I knew how to capture the runoff, I would lick it from your pores. *** You could sit, back straight for hours while I slouch, weaken, fall. I only know to prostrate myself, to fold my body in half and flatten chest to the ground - I am good at this, bowing down, forehead to carpet against rising Sanskrit notes. Is this religion, then? It has never seemed so strong - or so human. The divine clothed in one young body, and now I bring my impurities before you, open and dripping wound, would take you outside and beg for my life. Anything, I would say. And I would feel your skin beneath me, the body that rests, unassuming, beneath a sweater and cargo pants. Gray and tan to dim what must be translucent flesh beneath plexiglas skin made to show me exactly how much you are. I think I would see Jesus inside, like a beetle caught in amber, hanging there in your body. Do you know? It is too dark here and I cannot see your body. *** The fate I fear: to die in shadowed corners where I hear the whispers of what I might have found, if only I had set myself on the path. *** I hunger. I ache. I bathe and the impurities are not washed away. I ignore them, block them out, drink them out of my life. I will starve them out until they feed on flesh, earthworms chewing me up and spitting out more fertile soil. You must see it in me - can you? - tiny buds rippling beneath my skin, searching to put down roots and cling to something but they move too quickly - _you_ move too quickly, and I must hold you down, gasping beneath me. My body to you is my offering to God, this altar of the divine and the only act I have ever held to be sacred. Are these, then, the terms of Godhead? I could almost do this if I knew I could keep a piece of you rushing into me, holding you in my womb like a child unborn. But no. I will keep myself from you, clothe myself in cotton and steel though I have nothing beneath my flesh to hide as you do. Leaving you to your holiness, I will hold myself at a distance until I can return with flowers beneath my flesh, blooming and taking root until I have something to hide, something to reveal, something to prove myself worthy of what I sought in you tonight. ------------------------------ Date: Fri, 14 Apr 2000 13:59:27 -0700 (PDT) From: Caroline Platt Subject: ET: PLUR essentially i am not really a big christianity fan, but this story was positive and interesting none the less. (for the most part). > > I dig this story. while this has religious overtones, i would vouch > that > all members of our list would not argue about its basic value. enjoy!!! > > >We were the only family with children in the > >restaurant. I sat Erik in a high chair and noticed > >everyone was quietly eating and talking. Suddenly, > >Erik squealed with glee and said, "Hi there." He > >pounded his fat baby hands on the high-chair tray. His > >eyes were wide with excitement and his mouth was bared > >in a toothless grin. He wriggled and giggled with > >merriment. I looked around and saw the source of his > >merriment. It was a man with a tattered rag of a > >coat; dirty, greasy and worn. His pants were baggy > >with a zipper at half-mast and his toes poked out of > >would-be shoes. His shirt was dirty and his hair was > >uncombed and unwashed.His whiskers were too short to > >be called a beard and his nose was so varicose it > >looked like a road map. We were too far from him to > >smell, but I was sure he smelled. His hands waved and > >flapped on loose wrists. "Hi there, baby; hi there, > >big boy. I see ya, buster," the man said to Erik. > > > >My husband and I exchanged looks, "What do we do?" > > > >Erik continued to laugh and answer, "Hi, hi there. > >"Everyone in the restaurant noticed and > >looked at us and then at the man. The old geezer was > >creating a nuisance with my beautiful baby. Our meal > >came and the man began shouting from across the room, > >"Do ya know patty cake? Do you know peek-a-boo? Hey, > >look, he knows peek-a-boo." Nobody thought the old man > >was cute. He was obviously drunk. > > > >My husband and I were embarrassed. We ate in silence; > >all except for Erik, who was running through his > >repertoire for the admiring skid-row bum, who in turn, > >reciprocated with his cute comments. > > > >We finally got through the meal and headed for the > >door. My husband went to pay the check and told me to > >meet him in the parking lot. > > > >The old man sat poised between me and the door. "Lord, > >just let me out of here before he speaks to me or > >Erik," I prayed. As I drew closer to the man, I > >turned my back trying to side-step him and avoid any > >air he might be breathing. > > > >As I did, Erik leaned over my arm, reaching with both > >arms in a baby's "pick-me-up" position. Before I > >could stop him, Erik had propelled himself from my > >arms to the man's. > > > >Suddenly a very old smelly man and a very young baby > >consummated their love relationship. Erik in an act > >of total trust, love, and submission laid his tiny > >head upon the man's ragged shoulder. > > > >The man's eyes closed, and I saw tears hover beneath > >his lashes. His aged hands full of grime, pain, and > >hard labor- gently, so gently, cradled my baby's > >bottom and stroked his back. No two beings have ever > >loved so deeply for so short a time. I stood > >awestruck. The old man rocked and cradled Erik in > >his arms for a moment, and then his eyes opened and > >set squarely on mine. > > > >He said in a firm commanding voice, "You take care of > >this baby." > > > >Somehow I managed, "I will," from a throat that > >contained a stone. He pried Erik from his > >chest-unwillingly, longingly, as though he Were in > >pain. > >I received my baby, and the man said, "God bless you, > >ma'am,you've given me my Christmas gift." I said > >nothing more than a muttered thanks. > > > >With Erik in my arms, I ran for the car. My husband > >was wondering why I was crying and holding Erik so > >tightly, and why I was saying, "My God, my God, > >forgive me." > > > >I had just witnessed Christ's love shown through the > >innocence of a tiny child who saw no sin, who made no > >judgment; a child who saw a soul, and a mother who > >saw a suit of clothes. I was a Christian who was > >blind,holding a child who was not. I felt it was God > >asking- "Are you willing to share your son for a > >moment?" - when He shared His for all eternity. > > > >The ragged old man, unwittingly, had reminded me, "To > >enter the Kingdom of God, we must become as little > >children." > > ===== "a little bit of bass, a little bit of drums, to fill your soul" __________________________________________________ Do You Yahoo!? Send online invitations with Yahoo! Invites. http://invites.yahoo.com ------------------------------ Date: Fri, 14 Apr 2000 21:22:31 -0400 From: shivergirl Subject: ET: another interesting perspective > "This is what I say to the Christians and they get really upset: Jesus would not be a Christian right now." > -Tori Amos > > ------------------------------ Date: Sat, 8 Apr 2000 20:33:46 -0400 (EDT) From: courtney gordon Subject: ET: help Dear Everyone, Well, angels, I have yet again wandered myself into previously unventured piles of crap, and I'm again asking for anybody that feels compelled, to pray for me. I'm pretty sure things will work out, but I am constantly being plagued by the "what if" syndrome, as I often am, regaurdless of whether or not things are going wrong. But anyway, I'm asking anybody out there who prays and has faith to remember me in your prayers, as I would do the same for you. Thank you in advance everybody. I really don't have much to talk about, just a bunch of meaningless babble, so I'll leave it at that. love and such Court the constantly wandering into crap angel. P.S. Sly, want a cookie? Don't know why that came to mind, i'll behave now. ------------------------------ Date: 7 Apr 00 22:39:46 CDT From: Naomi Vaughn Subject: Re: [ET: kissing, the list, poets, & other things] > ???? > what is love??? love is something i have stumbled onto a couple times, but still know nothing about. it smacks me blindly from nowhere, and by the time i know what's hit me, it's gone... w/ only my scars to prove it was ever really there, but even those i wonder about :) i remember talking about this subject w/ *someone* what seems like ages ago. i still can't begin to define it. it's an emotion that can be so frustrating... because, well, i've been in love... i've felt (yes, felt) it through and through (heard his thoughts)... but, then suddenly it's gone... and, you know, it just leaves you with that feeling of... if that was it, why is it gone? and if it wasn't, and i thought it was.. really thought it was... how am i ever supposed to know??? if it even does exsist. but, anyway, yes... when you're in it, in you can embrace it quickly enough, it's a wonderful thing. despite it all... i think it's a good thing to be able to have the experience of loving someone like that. enough of my babbling, i've got to run. night. :) love nai "And when somebody knows you well / well there's no comfort like that / and when somebody needs you / well there's no drug like that" ~Heather Nova ____________________________________________________________________ Get your own FREE, personal Netscape WebMail account today at http://webmail.netscape.com. ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 10 Apr 2000 23:34:02 -0700 From: Nicole Subject: ET: did you know... ...that 25 years before the holocaust of the jewish people by the nazis, = one and a half million armenians were tortured and killed by the turks = in what was the first racial massacres of the century? i am taking a = literature of the holocaust class at drexel, and it's breaking my heart. = did any of you know about this genocide? no one i've spoken to about = it...and i've talked to dozens of people, who have seen me reading the = book "black dog of fate"...have any idea what i'm talking about. = please, please, if you know nothing of it, read this book. it will = inform you of the background to the holocaust and how hitler got away = with it. this genocide is still being covered up today by the turkish = government, who, like the nazis did to the jewish holocaust survivors, = are denying it ever happened. hitler said , eight days before invading = poland, "who, after all, speaks today of the annihilation of the = armenians?" this is how he and the other nazis got away with it, = because no one was willing to believe these atrocities could happen. we = all need to be made aware, before these things happen again! please = look into reading it if you are interested, and if you don't like = reading books, please ask me, and i'll talk to you about it. i don't = know how to get this information out...my voice is not loud enough, but = with more voices, how can we not be heard? love you all, nicole - --Boundary_(ID_7qNF/guz6U+8F1+QRWEuWA) Content-type: text/html; charset=iso-8859-1 Content-transfer-encoding: quoted-printable ...that 25 years before the holocaust = of the jewish=20 people by the nazis, one and a half million armenians were tortured and = killed=20 by the turks in what was the first racial massacres of the = century? i am=20 taking a literature of the holocaust class at drexel, and it's breaking = my=20 heart. did any of you know about this genocide? no one i've = spoken=20 to about it...and i've talked to dozens of people, who have seen me = reading the=20 book "black dog of fate"...have any idea what i'm talking about. = please,=20 please, if you know nothing of it, read this book. it will inform = you of=20 the background to the holocaust and how hitler got away with it. = this=20 genocide is still being covered up today by the turkish government, who, = like=20 the nazis did to the jewish holocaust survivors, are denying it ever=20 happened. hitler said , eight days before invading poland, "who, = after=20 all, speaks today of the annihilation of the armenians?" this is = how he=20 and the other nazis got away with it, because no one was willing to = believe=20 these atrocities could happen. we all need to be made aware, = before these=20 things happen again! please look into reading it if you are = interested,=20 and if you don't like reading books, please ask me, and i'll talk to you = about=20 it. i don't know how to get this information out...my voice is not = loud=20 enough, but with more voices, how can we not be heard? love you all, nicole - --Boundary_(ID_7qNF/guz6U+8F1+QRWEuWA)-- ------------------------------ End of eda-thoughts-digest V3 #131 **********************************