From: owner-fegmaniax-digest@ecto.org To: fegmaniax-digest@ecto.org Reply-To: fegmaniax@ecto.org Errors-To: owner-fegmaniax-digest@ecto.org Subject: Feg Digest V5 #122 Fegmaniax Digest Volume 5 Number 122 Monday June 9 1997 To post, send mail to fegmaniax@ecto.org To unsubscribe, send mail to majordomo@ecto.org with the words "unsubscribe fegmaniax-digest" in the message body. Send comments, etc. to the listowner at owner-fegmaniax@ecto.org FegMANIAX! Web Page: http://remus.rutgers.edu/~woj/fegmaniax/index.html Archives are available at ftp://www.ecto.org/pub/lists/fegmaniax/ ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Today's Topics: ------- ------- sacramento and two other things... Mea Culpa Ed Kuepper Seatac? Less Impressed... Re: sacramento and two other things... Live Rarities? info from the jangly list Virtual Cone Museum, the song The Feg Cult Quiz Diaries of Debbie "Mao" Flosshilde, Part 1 Re: Diaries of blah blah blah ------------------------------ Date: Wed, 4 Jun 1997 21:02:55 -0700 (PDT) From: Wet Toast Tweezers Subject: sacramento and two other things... hey-- the portions of my brain that drifted away from my recent 1200 miles in the car are coming back together and i can comment on sacramento, t-shirts, and fegmaniax family values... first t-shirts... >As for list member shirts, my dad is a screenprinter, and if someone came up >with a design, he might consent to do the printing for such. *grin* I have the digitized 'f' from fegmania that was going to be the idea for the ancient "fegmaniax pin" of ages gone buy. this was to be a list related thingy to identify each other by and not have to wear funny clothes or yell out peoples names (as was done last night). it is a corel draw file of it. it may needs some touch up to be blow up as a single letter on a t-shirt... this information provided for informational purposes only. ON TO THE SHOW... pre-show...i walking into the venue because it was a cloudy (and rainy) afternoon in sacramento to see if there was a sound check going on. no luck. all i got was a nice hello and short conversation from robyn who said there would not be anything happening for a while. so i left, but only after (susan and k brace yourselves...) shaking his slightly moist hand (he had just came out of the loo). i also saw the man napping later on, but did nothing out of place mind you and kept to my self!! sydney will post a set list unless she was taking notes just to remind herself... TIM: two major impressions here... 1) this guy is an old folkie at heart, and it cannot be denied. 2) his playing is very fluid and graceful--that is exactly how i need to do it. his set was too short and it was brilliant. but that is not to say that it was brilliant because it was short; would have been better if it were longer, dig? for a guy (notice gender distinction) singing about relationships, he pulled it off quite well--lyrically. ROBYN: this was a less the average performance for robyn. he said he was very tied and it showed. he made five mistakes playing, even one to cause him to explicate about it. thus, he was not in top form guitarically or vocally. there were more consistent chord shapes and positions he used that i noticed from previous times. of note for some of the playing... serpent is in G. G and C being open chords in it and then a D position and a whole set up he played some funky finger stretching chords that i could not figure out. played like this it sounds different in a stripped down way from respect. instead of his usually two pedals he had three all boss, one chorus and another delay. the whole electric set was not that great at all, in my humble. one interesting thing he let go was his amp had the gain and treble turned up for a bit that gave a nice sheen to the songs, before he corrected it. blue telecaster with lace sensor pick-ups--blue rear humbuckler, i am not sure of the front because the color could not bee seen. and no flyde, something else--could not read the headstock. (GUITAR GEEK MODE = OFF; PROCEED) the solos and middle eights with the guitar were perhaps the most inspired of his playing. for the first time i could *really* see the hendrix influence in some of it. fashion report... before show white button-up with the green jeans first set; white with black polka-dot long sleeve, black pants encore; diamond shape green on black shirt, no at all become in my book shoe; the black ones he is almost always wearing gig banter... gotta agree with eb here. pretty stale--i had heard most all of it before. but, there was still a bit of spontaneity [sp?] involved. he did announce after arnold lane that it was not written by him but his older brother syd--wide open for interpretation, kids! for those of you who have shows left--get the home single. it is great!! it is great!! also, i got to see all of the cones that were for sale at the show. all of them were well done, except for the cellular cone--a cone with many tiny circles (cells) drawn on it--thus, called the cellular cone, get it?? the question here is would the cone stand the test of time and the drift in technology?? final impressions... tim was great robyn needed sleep and rest as did i and i often dreams of trains made up to the problems. also, my assessment of the show was perhaps the least impressed as the other fegs there. finally... it was good to meet up with the other creatures on the list--in attendance were about seven of us. although i was again snaked with he longest travel award by the seattle road trip types. maybe next time if no one's frequent flyer miles comes up. :) FEGMANIAX FAMILY VALUES.. From: Tracy >> any sac-feg > > I wish you'd keep this sort of filth off of feg. This here's a >family-friendly list, you know. i know, but sacramento does exists and it is not fair to exclude it because of its reputation. besides these kids are going to grow up and find out about even if we don't tell them in a civilized way. also, the present place of residence of moi is far worse that sacramento and i shall not even mention it, for the mind turn to awful thoughts. slack, .chris ------------------------------ Date: Thu, 5 Jun 1997 16:24:07 +0700 From: james.dignan@stonebow.otago.ac.nz (James Dignan) Subject: Mea Culpa >James (whose writing for the day is nearing Hodge-esque proportions!) and >Our delightful Ms Hodge sprach: erk... my apologies, dearest Susan. That should of course read "Dodge-esque". My mind was misplaced, possibly by the realisation that Hedblade, which I had long taken to be a nickname, is a real surname... James ------------------------------ Date: Thu, 5 Jun 1997 16:27:59 +0700 From: james.dignan@stonebow.otago.ac.nz (James Dignan) Subject: Ed Kuepper >Sorry to post a non-topic question but I figured that *someone* on this >list could help me. I was wondering whether anyone on the list is >a Ed Krueper fan (ex of The Saints, a peer of the Soft Boys, the Clash, etc. - >in other words during the late 70's). I've heard his stuff on radio before >but have >never (before moving here) been able to find his stuff. And now all the >stores in Switzerland (it seems) have lots of his albums (of which >there are many many many. So I am confused as to where to start. you bet! It's Kuepper, BTW. The best place to start would either be the Best Of album "The Butterfly Net", or the gobsmackingly excellent "Serene Machine". Or you could try "Character Assassination", which is a double album with the same songs electric on one disc and acoustic on the other. Or "Electrical Storm"... The incredibly prolific Australian has been in a string of bands since the saints, including the Aints and the Laughing Clowns. James James Dignan___________________________________ You talk to me Deptmt of Psychology, Otago University As if from a distance ya zhivu v' 50 Norfolk Street And I reply. . . . . . . . . . Dunedin, New Zealand with impressions chosen from another time steam megaphone (03) 455-7807 (Brian Eno - "By this River") ------------------------------ Date: Wed, 4 Jun 1997 21:56:30 -0700 (PDT) From: upstart@portal.ca (Renee Lynn) Subject: Seatac? Pacific NW Fegs? Has anyone got any further info on this rumour? (rumour being that Robyn will be playing at the Croc on June 13...) I hope it is true, since I have booked expensive hotel rooms and shelled out to have the brakes fixed on my car for the lil road trip to Seattle, since it doen't appear that he will be playing in BC at all. (I also bought tickets to see the Dodgers play the Mariners on Saturday just in case Robyn doesn't show, so it won't be a complete waste..) Ta RLT ------------------------------ From: Terrence M Marks Date: Thu, 5 Jun 1997 01:43:14 -0400 (EDT) Subject: Less Impressed... For some reason, I have recently become less impressed with Robyn Hitchcock (don't worry...it hasn't gotten to the point where I'd compare him to the Rolling Stones or anything, but he's dropping steadily) I'm beginning to understand what everyone says about his predictability, and I'm also beginning to see why a good number of his albums just kinda didn't do well. I mean, apart from a few songs (THe Leopard, Globe of Frogs, Beautiful Queen (ML), Never Stop Bleeding), a lot of what he does is just kinda...standard. I'd really like to appreciate him more...cold you-all help me? Terrence Marks Remember-Jesus is your friend. normal@grove.ufl.edu ------------------------------ From: TchdnJesus@aol.com Date: Thu, 5 Jun 1997 01:56:22 -0400 (EDT) Subject: Re: sacramento and two other things... chris@unr.edu (Wet Toast Tweezers) writes: > also, the > present place of residence of moi is far worse that sacramento and i > shall not even mention it, for the mind turn to awful thoughts. stockton, lodi, suisun, or manteca? or is it (heaven forbid) concord....... ------------------------------ Date: Thu, 5 Jun 1997 00:03:22 -0700 From: Eb Subject: Live Rarities? All this lovely talk of fanatical tape-trading made me realize that I never listened to a rarities tape which some Feg (can't even remember who!) sent me MONTHS ago -- before Moss Elixir was officially released, I believe. Anyway, so I finally played it tonight. It's kinda cute, though if I lost it somehow, I wouldn't go out of my way to replace it. Anyway, I couldn't name all the songs on the tape. Since I assume that many of you have the same tape, can you clarify/fill in the blanks? The guy titled the cassette (somewhat redundantly?) "Rare Live Rarities." Songs: I Thought I Saw Julian Cope, September Cones, I Dreamed I Saw St. Augustine, ????? [lots of stuff about a child and God and a road, and it's NOT Woodstock....], She Reached For A Light, ????? [kinda mellow and drony...not too strong], Birds In Perspex, You've Got, Medley: Wild Mountain Thyme/Oh Yeah/Over You/?????. Strawberry Fields Forever, A Day In The Life, Flesh Is Not For Eating (?), The Angel Upstairs (??), Birdshead, Draft Morning, The Wind Cries Mary, Ten Fingers, Mr. Rock 'N' Roll, To Be Alone With You, 7 Chinese Boys (??), Mr. Thrusty's Fruit Club (??), ???? [semi-improved, rambling song inspired apparently by Lou's Coney Island Baby...talks about Jefferson Airplane a lot...maybe it didn't even earn a title]. Please correct, confirm or deny. Eb ------------------------------ Date: Thu, 5 Jun 1997 02:54:20 -0500 (CDT) From: Mississippi Malcolm McDowell Subject: info from the jangly list On Mon, 2 Jun 1997, John Relph wrote (in response to a query of mine to "jangly" about Captain Sensible and Robyn): > >I know that three of > >the songs you mention were co-written with my beloved Robyn Hitchcock. Any > >others co-written by his Robynness that I have to track down? > > I think the complete RH list is as follows: > > Stop The World > Brenda Part 1 & 2 > Croydon > I'm A Spider > Secrets > It's Hard To Believe I'm Not That means there are three of these tunes floating about that I have yet to hear. Any of you fellow feggers familiar with them? Worth tracking down or not? I should mention that I'm not in general much of a fan of the Captain, so I'd only be willing to look for them if they were especially good lyrics. Love on ya, Susan P.S. Terry- I've actually had phases like that too. Try listening to "Underwater Moonlight" a few times in a row and see if that doesn't help somewhat :). ******************************************************************************* "The worship of the beautiful always ends in an orgy"- Benjamin Disraeli, "Lothair", lxxvii ******************************************************************************* ------------------------------ Subject: Virtual Cone Museum, the song Date: Thu, 5 Jun 97 07:16:46 -0000 From: The Great Quail >Lying out there on the net, was a pleasant space >In the reach of me and you , in its special space >Virtual cone....museum . . . etc, etc. Beautifu, James, beautiful! I don't suppose you have the chord changes and the tabulature? (Or should we just use a karoake version of "Tropical Flesh Mandala?") Maybe you and the Beaker People can whip up a recording, and it can be streamed from the website directly into all the VCM's visitors! Ah, that would be truly wondrous strange indeed. Then the rest of us Fegs can go around to every library, every school, every university, every church, synagogue, mosque and technopagan e-graove, every coffeehouse, every public computer within a 100 mile radius and set all their web-browsers to the VCM as it's homepage, so within days the world will be ours, ha ha ha - Um, wait. That would be the actions of an insane cult, wouldn't it? Sorry. Lost my head for a second there. The Quail ---------------------------------+-------------------------------- The Great Quail, K.S.C. | TheQuail@cthulhu.microserve.com | "Keeper of the Libyrinth" | Sarnath - The Quailspace Web Page: riverrun Discordian Society | http://www.microserve.net/~thequail 73 De Chirico Street | Arkham, Orbis Tertius 2112-42 | ** What is FEGMANIA? ** "The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents." -- H.P. Lovecraft ------------------------------ Subject: The Feg Cult Quiz Date: Thu, 5 Jun 97 07:17:10 -0000 From: The Great Quail Kay posits: >Feg Cult Test > >1 which image dosnt belong? > >Flan, firehose, nose, ice cream cone, flaslight,plume,fish, plane, train, snake, Cave of >Clint The ten commas, of course, being not noun-images at all, but rather an image of grammatical device used to separate them. >2 Robyn once typified his fans as >a) sports-fanatics >b) stupid >c) perverts Hm. I *thought* he said "sportingly stupid pervert-fanatics," but I may be a bit confused. >3 Free associate on The Canopener- That may be found soon in another post. . . . >As leader of our cult, The Great Quail will grade us (since he already >has Mr Red-Pencil firmly in hand.) Creativity, as always, counts. No! Good, Lord, Kay . . . I'm already grading 100 sophomore papers on Science/Technology/Society issues. Being immersed in the nascent political views of 100 fifteen year olds, I don't think my life can stand to get any more surreal than it alreday is! The Quail PS: I have never, curtrently do not, and will never lead any cults. ---------------------------------+-------------------------------- The Great Quail, K.S.C. | TheQuail@cthulhu.microserve.com | "Keeper of the Libyrinth" | Sarnath - The Quailspace Web Page: riverrun Discordian Society | http://www.microserve.net/~thequail 73 De Chirico Street | Arkham, Orbis Tertius 2112-42 | ** What is FEGMANIA? ** "The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents." -- H.P. Lovecraft ------------------------------ Subject: Diaries of Debbie "Mao" Flosshilde, Part 1 Date: Thu, 5 Jun 97 07:16:53 -0000 From: The Great Quail Fegs: This is part one of a two part - and very long - posting. If you are not interested in the fate of Debbie Flosshilde, please just cheerfully delete me and don't be cross at me for cluttering your mailbox with this sort of drivel. Thanks. Well . . . . Hearing more of the debate over the fate of our missing chairwoman of the Fegmaniax! Welcoming Committee, good old Debbie "Mao" Flosshilde, I decided to do a bit of a search on my own. (Which is why I haven't posted for awhile, by the way. Ahem.) Luckily for us, the gods were in our favour. A few tugs on the Quailweb of contacts brought me an almost immediate response, via an anonymous email from the alt.conspiracy.black.helicopters group. It consisted of this simple message: "Philadelphia - Geno's Cheesesteaks. Ask for a Pizza Provolone With, then calmly ask if Rocky Balboa roots for the Flyers." No problem - I saddled up the car and hit the turnpike. Following the instructions, I asked for my cheesesteak, and lo and behold, a ticket was inserted into the wax paper. It was a ticket for the Sunshine Blind/Switchblade Symphony concert at the Trocadero. Of course! I immediately knew what to expect, and I wasn't disappointed. A rendezvous with Iggy the Mouse, formerly of the Barry Manilow Jingle Analysis Center of Grover Mills, NJ. See, Iggy was in hiding, traveling from one goth show to another, all so no one would ever suspect that he had been partially exsanguinated by a few alien joyriders back in 1993. Luckily he escaped their clutches, but his experience has left him pale and sensitive to light. Well, at the goth show (By the way, in ref. to the males on this list and the thread about babe singers, Caroline Blind is not to be sneezed at) I cornered Iggy on the balcony of the Trocadero. A little pressure on my part revealed the name of a contact on South Street, where I spend the next afternoon. I met this unlikely informant at the Marina Day celebration on Penn's Landing. He was huddled in a "stowaway" berth in the decommissioned "Becuna," a diesel sub. Seems he just got back from the South Pacific, where he was running human organs into Singapore. His whole piracy operation was apparently located on Pagan Island, a small islet in the Marinara Chain. Well, something had this guy spooked, and he was spooked good. He had a hot packet - something he wanted to get rid of, and apparently he was using Iddy the Mouse as his feelers in the underground. The guy refused to get off a boat, and his skin was pasty white, impregnated with the long funk of a deep down fear. Well, in the coincidental way that acts as the hallmark for these sort of meetings, I was the exact man he needed to see. His price was a small statuette of some froglike diety, easily scored from a South Street hobbyshop. (Ugly thing, mind you - a head full of tentacles and a pair of batwings. Yuck.) That, and a few grams of pure 1,3,7-trimethylxanthine were his only price. I made the score, and took the packet off his hands. Turns out my contacts were right after all: a few tattered pages, written in the familiar spidery scrawl of our beloved Chairwoman Mao, and addressed to "My Dearest Susan and the Feg List." I will now relate to you these amazing details. I fear that due to the crabbed nature of Debbie's writing, I can only transcribe and post part one today. Here it is: ************************************************************** April 7, 1996 Suzie! I know that you will not be getting these letters until after I reach Sydney, Australia, but I figured I might as well write a little bit every few days. First of all,I want to thank the whole list for sending me to Australia. I mean, I expected last year's trip to London to meet with the UK Fegs, but when Woj asked me to head out to the Land Down Under, it was just "wow." (You can stop humming "Men at Work," now, Susan.) I mean, just because we added one new Feg from Australia, I never in a million years suspected that you would pull off this lovely surprise! Raising the money through all those bake sales at gigs was just a brilliant idea. Speaking of which, the Egyptian cream and the body oils came intact; but I shall have to purchase a new feather when I hit Sydney. The US Postal system crushed the one you sent me. Oh dear! Imagine welcoming a new Feg without tickling his feet? Well, I better go now, the boat is about to depart. April 8, 1996 It's me again, Sue. The boat is wonderful! All the people are so nice, but so far none of them has really opened up to me. It's night now, and I'm on the deck just sipping some rum and cokes and listeing to Jay's XTC tape on my walkman. Everything seems peachy, except for the first mate. He seems a bit unwholesome, and he keeps eyeing me. I was so embarrassed that I had to button up my shirt over my bikini. There was something about his eyes, like two blobs of greasy meat . . . . I keep expecting them to swivel around inside his head, undoubtedly to watch the pornos of me he's filming in his mind. Shudder. April 9, 1996 You have to do this, Sue! It's just wonderful! The weather's been fabulous, and I can hardly wait for our stop in the Islands. I'm so relaxed . . . Well, except for the first mate again. Tonight I was out on the deck again, listening to the Higsons on my walkman. And I swear to God, he walked by me and mouthed the words "Gotta Let this Hen Out." I pulled off the earphones and ran after him, pleading him to repeat what he said. But he just smiled cryptically - and a little malevolently, too - and faked like he didn't know any English. I showed him the cassette, and asked if he knew who Robyn Hitchcock was, but he shook his head: but his *eyes,* Susan, his eyes - they were filled with some sort of knowing, deliberate, almost taunting sense of evil, like the time I asked my sixth grade librarian for something fun to read and she handed me The Naked Lunch. Oh yes - and another strange thing. There was a crewman passing by at that moment, a basket of pears in his hands. At the precise second I asked the mate if he knew who Robyn Hitchcock was, he dropped the pears and looked terrified! I heard him mutter something *like* "Robyn Hitchcock," then he quickly mumbled something that sounded like Japanese and he made some sort of protective gesture! He then apologized, and gingerly picked up the spilled pears. And I swear, Susan, the way the moonlight hit them, I thought one of the pears looked like it was made out of metal, grey and zinc-like. I can't describe the sensation I felt upon seeing them, but I know that they will haunt my dreams, hieratic leaden fruit sinking into the dreamy fruitbowl of my unconscious. Why did that disturb me so? April 10, 1996 Susan, I don't know if I am enjoying myself anymore! This whole trip is starting to sound like "Night Ride to Trinidad!" I began making inquiries around about the First Mate, but no one wants to talk about him. And again I asked about Robyn Hitchcock, and another crewman looked startled and did that same "evil eye" ward again, like the old peasants in Dracula. I mean, I know that "Perspex Island" was not his best album, but really! And this crewman was Polynesian or something, and again didn't speak much English. I finally asked another crewman: an Englishman this time. He was overall very very dismissive of my worries, and claimed that the "native were superstitious." It was all very colonial, if you catch my drift, and not at all open-minded. I asked him about the name "Robyn Hitchcock" and he laughed. He said, and I quote, "Those bloody wogs don't know bollocks about music. You should see what happens when you say 'Brian Wilson!'" Well, I was rather angry with him, and I retired to me room. Tomorrow we take vacation on a lovely island - a few days at the beach should do me good. April 14, 1996 Reading the last few entries, I fear I must sound terribly childish. I had a wonderful time on the beach, and all is going well again. I understand that a storm is moving in soon, so the going may get a bit rough. I'm not even afraid of the First Mate anymore. (Who, by the way, is named "Nevs." A strange name.) April 15, 1996 The skies have been dark and overcast. The rest of the passengers look edgy and tense, and I fear a bit of that foul mood has fallen over me again. I have also been feeling a bit ill. First Mate Nevs has begun staring at me again, and a few of the "native" crewmen refuse to talk to me. yesterday morning, one of them was trying to wax the deck around me as I sat in my usual deck chair. He was nervous as hell, and was obviously doing a poor job. He kept looking at me with an expression of almost - well, almost . . .fear. Having never met him before, I can only attribute his attitude to talk among the crewmates. Why me? And why can't I get along with the other passengers? Which, by the way, are seeming increasingly more scarce. Susan, I really miss you, and I miss all the Fegs on the List. Tell Nick that I am sending him the live chambered nautilus he requested. (Though I still wonder why!) I can hardly wait to get to Australia. . . . April 16, 1996 The storm finally broke, and it has been raging for almost 12 hours. It's terrible! I am in my quarters right now, sea sick, edgy, and running a fever. The sky is black, and all we can do is trust in the Captain - whom I *still* haven't even seen! I'm starting to fear that he is some mythical figure, like Sgt. Pepper or James Dignan. Oh yes! I need to mention this, although I am feeling a bit sickish. I was at my usual chair on deck right before the storm hit, reading some Raymond Chandler, when suddenly it began to rain - just like that! So I packed up my book and snacks, and right as I was about to step off the chair, I noticed something quite odd . . . the water was running over the deck as expected, except around me - around me, the water had formed a ring-like design, beading up completely and surrounding my chair! The crewman didn't just do an incompetent wax-job on the deck near me, he had actually waxed a strange circle of some kind - Curious, and more than a little afraid, I nervously stepped out of the figure and looked harder at it: and Susan, as God is my witness, it wasn't *just* a circle - it was a ring of intricately waxed-in figures, a ring of toad-like creatures all linked by their tongues! What the hell is going on here? That line from Coleridge's "Kubla Khan" keeps going through my head: "weave a circle around him thrice, your eyes filled with holy dread, for he on honeydew hath fed, and drunk the milk of paradise. . . ." What do the crewmen see in me? April 17, 1996 I feel miserbale tonight, and all day long. I am definitely sick. I asked to see the Captain, but predictably all I got was First Mate Nevs. He sent a doctor in to see me, a queer looking older Englishman with a Liverpuddlian accent, a strangely familiar face, and a Japanese girlfriend. This "Doctor Roberts" gave me some medicine, but I'm still feeling ill. The fever is bad, and I am running in and out of almost delirium. I swear I woke up once to hear an odd chanting outside my door, but when I opened it up, there was no one there . . . . just this smell, like seafood . . . . Tonight I had a strange dream, and I want to get it down before it fades. I was in a wax museum of some sort, and there was this ultimate dream hall - you know, like all my heroes in wax. There was Syd, and Robyn, and Juilan, and John, and Bob, and even Beck . . . and there was this other wax figure, one draped with a velvet curtain all covered in little crushed velvet froggies. I reached out to pull the covering off, but a sense of sudden dread gripped me and I was struck immobile! I knew that what was under that curtain - the face on the final wax dummy - was not meant for my eyes. I knew that seeing it would be terrible, that sense of apprehension filled my whole dream. . . . And I don't mean like it was going to be Billy Bragg or anything, no. Something far more sinister . . . . Oddly enough, I woke from the dream with a song in my head - the best one I've ever thought of, but it faded before I could get the chords down. Sigh. April 18? 19? 1996 Very sick. In and out of delirium. I think the storm is still raging - is that possible? Lats night I woke, and I think Nevs was over me. He had a guitar in his hands, one that looked familiar, almost like the guitar I owned in college. I vaguely remember snatched of lyrics, as if he were teaching me songs . . . . I feel snatched of old Feg list postings ripple through my head - and occasionally my delusion whispers to me that I'm also receiving future postings. My destination and an environmentalist woman get confused. Something also about a Wondrous Partridge. And then there seems to be this weird tendency to free associate on "The Can Opener." And most unbelievable of all, that Bayard and Mark actually got "Glass Flesh" out. Oh, the pain . . . . I can't eat. Can't sleep. Bed's on fire. I can't seem to face up to the facts. I have this overwhelming need to drop superfluous Talking Heads references. Susan, I miss you . . . Visions of a great big kitchen appliance surfacing in the storm, ripping into the hull like a sardine tin. My mind is delirious . . . tuna tuna everywhere, and oh the can did clink, tuna tuna everywhere, nor any boats to sink. . . . What am I doing? Must focus: I haven't seen any other passengers, and the waters - Shouldn't we be in Australia by now? If I don't make it, tell Eb that I tried my best . . . . April 20, 1996 The medicine! I stopped taking it, and suddenly I feel better - are they trying to poison me? I must regain my strength - where are the passengers? Why is this storm still raging? April 21, 1996 Tonight I learned something very strange, and it still fills me with dread, but I must get this down on paper. I am paying one of the few crewmen I can trust - a Haitian cabinboy named Skippy - and he promised he will deliver these papers to you. Listen: After pretending to take the medicine, I worked on regaining my strength. Around ten at night, I slipped out of my cabin and made my way to the crew's quarters. Most of them would be in the galley, playing that strange game of cards they call fizbin. Using a hairpin, I jimmied the lock and snuck inside . . . and lighting a match, I began exploring . . . The crew's quarters were all as they should be, filled with the typical stuff you'd expect, all freighted with the musty smell of old seamen. A few bottles of bootleg rum, some lines of cocaine laid out on a Jimmy Buffet record, and a coupla old and well-thumbed nudie magazines. Nothing here . . . But then I went to the First Mate's room: . . . and then I saw it. It was terrible, and it will haunt me the rest of my life. A - well, a shrine, I suppose. A terrible altar was erected in his seedy quarters, a horrid affair complete with some wicked deity carved out of stone. It was pink jade, I think, for it was flesh colored, rippling with tentacles and beaks, and a preponderance of little (and I may add rather finely carved) feelers. It was covered with valves, tendrils, membranes, and just about any other icky organic protruberance you could think of. And Susan, I am aware that you can think of a *lot.* But the most startling thing of all was the name carved above the statue: "Qlintt." (Well, not actually - frankly, the *most* startling thing about the statue was they way the sculptor made jade actually able to be described by the word "tumescent." That, and a haunting resemblance to Newt Gingrich.) So: "Qlintt." The name had a weird familiarity to it, but again, I was at a loss to explain why. And in front of this altar was a book - a great old book, the kind that I would probably refer to as a "tome" if I were writing this in the earlier half of the century and wanted to invest it with a mystic spookiness. So I opened up the book, and to my surprise, I found page after page of chord changes and tabulature! And again, there was a picture of this creature, along with the name "Qlintt," but this time his full name was given: "Qlintt the Vaguely Disturbing - He Whom Is Occasionally Referred To As The Crawling Chaos and Servitor of the Outer Gods Who Shall Not Be Named Because They Don't Like To Be, And Not Just Because They Prefer Anonymity When Posting, But Beacuse They Get Really Ticked Off When You Address Them Directly, And Are Oft Prone To Eating Your Head For Doing So, So Just Don't Do It." Well, that was weird. So I was just about to leave, when suddenly my glance fell upon another page. This one was almost completely burnt, but was obviously a picture of some might diety in this bizarre pantheon. And although the picture was utterly destroyed, the name caught my eye upon an inky hook: RHOBBINITCH COQQ followed by (umlauts deleted): THEKWIR KEYSUCK SESSORTO SYDB'AARAAT ANJON LHEN-NHON My mind reeled! "Rhobbinitch Coqq!!" What a coincidence! No wonder the superstitious crewmen were terrified when I mentioned the otherwise harmless homonym of our favorite singer! Filled with a strange mixture of revelation, gratitude, and dread, I returned to my cabin as fast as I could, determined to see the Captain in the morning. . . . By the way, I must check my maps in the morning. I overheard a sailor mention that we were passing near Guam. That isn't on the way to Australia, is it? Odd. The storm shows no sign of abating, and I still haven't seen any passengers. But I'm sure all will be cleared up in the morning. . . . . **************************************************************** If there is still interest, I shall post Part Two in a few days - but I warn you, her tale gets mighty strange indeed. I'm afriad things take a turn for the worse. . . . The Quail ---------------------------------+-------------------------------- The Great Quail, K.S.C. | TheQuail@cthulhu.microserve.com | "Keeper of the Libyrinth" | Sarnath - The Quailspace Web Page: riverrun Discordian Society | http://www.microserve.net/~thequail 73 De Chirico Street | Arkham, Orbis Tertius 2112-42 | ** What is FEGMANIA? ** "The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents." -- H.P. Lovecraft ------------------------------ Date: Thu, 5 Jun 1997 09:39:21 -0400 From: lj lindhurst Subject: Re: Diaries of blah blah blah This is obviously some sort of cliquish private joke. You know, you two COULD flirt in private and spare the rest of us our breakfasts. What is this, high school? lj ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- The End of this Fegmaniax Digest. *sob* .