From: owner-eda-thoughts-digest@smoe.org (eda-thoughts-digest) To: eda-thoughts-digest@smoe.org Subject: eda-thoughts-digest V3 #346 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 Monday, October 9 2000 Volume 03 : Number 346 * 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: ~swimming in shoes that don't match~ [shivergirl ] ET: ~le beau~ [shivergirl ] ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Sun, 08 Oct 2000 23:25:39 -0400 From: shivergirl Subject: ET: ~swimming in shoes that don't match~ + he was 45 when i was nine and accused of teasing him out in the barn alone, arousing him beyond adult comprehension with my good child-bearing hips spread apart in revulsion as his dirty farmer-fingers sought to plunder my innocence and she says this is how it was at the formation of her hurt how it all came back up, like an ever-insistent ache that hasn't been discovered yet except on a flight one night with her husband after her mother did nothing again and her male relative got off with everything seedy and sick for years intimacy held memories of ugly attempted attacks and the fact that a child can be made out to be the whore in all this even with no breasts or secondary sex organs to speak of it is enough to be spared by screaming by a young cousin who heard the call and came barreling onto the scene the way today this woman is saved, again my heroine intact, simply by speaking + why can't i be white like you mama? i don't want all this dark pigment i just want what you got (from the pale god) and the word mulatto would be just a figment of my reality like the funny looks and double takes when i happen to call you mother and they stare, momentarily dumbfounded as if i am a fake and my dna is the wrong colour but wouldn't they be so surprised happily arrogant in their conditioning-- at the obvious inferiority of the negro gene, and everything they think they see-- to discover a black man is, in fact, my daddy? + ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 09 Oct 2000 00:05:54 -0400 From: shivergirl Subject: ET: ~le beau~ This is a multi-part message in MIME format. - --------------8D72D7B3ED25D6901AE74CD1 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit - --------------8D72D7B3ED25D6901AE74CD1 Content-Type: message/rfc822 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Content-Disposition: inline Message-ID: <39E142C8.35678AFB@ican.net> Date: Mon, 09 Oct 2000 00:00:08 -0400 From: shivergirl X-Mailer: Mozilla 4.02 [en]C-DIAL (Win95; U) MIME-Version: 1.0 To: "~marty, my fave swedie~" , "mr. stressup" Subject: ~le beau~ Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit + the end of our fusion an even twelve months that didn't believe in christmas nevermind unison i sent you some e-cards brimming with heart-felt words but deeds were what you were seeking and i didn't come through in time for your salvation because i couldn't act pretend to be something so opposed to what i believe is right so it all turned out wrong opposite to what i thought i wanted i got an envelope back inside were some song lyrics by mutually-loved artists but after looking inside i found there was no name on the front + former soulmate turned trusted confidante i feel somehow like a friendship debutante, coming out in a room full of homosexuals where everyone's skin is purple and the law of love is so intrinsically simple newly invented rainbows pride shows celebrating the alternative to what you ought to know but don't until you're outed ousted from a boy-girl sideshow against your will and you feel you have been born once again, inside a triangle that doesn't involve other estrogen this time, or deciding which girl will win racing like a baby gerbil in a circle trying to outrun the man-made wheels before the door opens and a finger comes in, claiming blame + sucking a pacifier as if by being wet i could reach down and put out the fire of my burning ignorance because all the hoses i need to quench the flames of trustlessness are buried deep in my allegiance to your request intimating just enough to inspire loyalty to the past + the napster of our relationship guess that makes me the thieving bitch stealer of intellectual property sharer of everything that doesn't even belong to me inflicting emotional brutality on the unsuspecting tyrant of bilingual lust taking away all your copyright just so you could change my name contending with your wrath the never-ending tarring and feathering expected machismo aftermath contesting your will then choking on the apology pill you shoved down my throat when i asked for forgiveness as i opened my mouth to get my fill contributing to your cyber-fame involving third parties sparring back and forth publicly in our twisted, highly enjoyable sordid little game facilitating my overall weakness of judgement when what i needed was to supplement my heart with good old-fashioned, head-strong righteousness but i lost my nerve in the duration of our century-long quarrel and i misplaced my edge perhaps somewhere in the middle of the vicinity of your mouth infringing on the fifth ammendment i foolishly tried to make ammends when silence was the wisest testament causing irreparable harm with the very best intent you sought an injunction and won taking away my innocent exuberance misconstruing the way only you know how crucifying in an instant all that stems from love of you and all that you do not expect thus resent wrapping authorship around you when there was nothing else left to cradle my anonymous terrorist writer of words i loved best how could i help but hijack how could i not erase the rest? + piracy on the literary open sea yet writing is breathing and creating the fulfillment of all that is within me psychologically speaking when nothing gives me its ears i hear the letters are always listening + the injured party it all comes so easily to you when you feel like being wronged today and i am already so imperfect in every single way it's perfect playing the journalist saying, doesn't information just want to be free? and just because you're the content creator doesn't excuse everything you've done to me not when you hold it under the hole-infested umbrella of it's all because you loved me your net-savvy kali abusing your indomitable psyche controlling your daily destiny at some point it has to be read by the world, you know so you can be ripped from your defences for all your invisible vultures to see + - --------------8D72D7B3ED25D6901AE74CD1-- ------------------------------ End of eda-thoughts-digest V3 #346 **********************************