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Hello, my name is Judas Gutenberg and this is my blaag (pronounced as you would the vomit noise "hyroop-bleuach").



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   social slavery
Sunday, March 30 1997

Almost nothing: Give me a feather big enough and I'll tickle the world.

I had to fight back tears listening to Bob Mould.
I am now working in UVA's Cocke Hall. The CD players have been working the last two times I've been here. Now if only they'd get BBEdit on these machines. Still... SimpleText really isn't too bad. A search and replace feature would be nice though.

I have a terrible hangover, the kind that feels like intoxication on a powerful mood-altering chemical . Things right now seem so overwhelmingly profound that it is almost as though I am on tussin, except instead of being emotionally cold and superficial, I'm easily overcome by emotions. I had to fight back tears listening to Bob Mould. Then I was reading the Washington Post about the forced asexuality among the members of the a Heaven's Gate cult and I kept thinking how unhealthy that was. But it also sounded strangely familiar. Too many realtionships among the people I know (including those concerning me) have a forced asexuality about them that seems, to an extent, to rob the people involved of their humanity, making them into organic robots. Furthermore, I think I'm as self-repressed and thus as emotionally unhealthy as anyone I know. Don't get me wrong, I'm not advocating more intercourse among my friends; I'm just saying that overt sexuality should not be so repressed. You see, the feelings that motivate sexuality are all still there no matter what is done about them. But if they are so thoroughly silenced, they build up and ultimately turn into venom.

It also occurs to me that here I am 29 and there never was a war. That's a unique thing that sets my generation apart from the others.

I'm especially moved by the twisted things some people do in dealing with their sex drives.
I keep having really strong urges to cry for no apparent reason. It's beautiful and I'm enjoying this a lot. I'm especially moved by the twisted things some people do in dealing with their sex drives. While I used to repair and customize bicycles as surrogate sexual activity, some guys prefer the real thing. Now I've been touched by the tale of Edward Gein, having found some mention of him by Justin (who is now writing web pages using speech input; he suffers from tendonitis). My Dad had told me on occasion of Edward Gein; it seems Gein was sort of a "local talent" serial killer in the part of Wisconsin where my Dad grew up.

Back at the Dynashack, I lay on the couch on the front porch, coping with my hangover. I'd drank some vodka at Cocke Hall and that had postponed the headache. But as I sobered up again the headache returned. Hardcore alcoholics have to stay drunk all the time in order to stay happy.

The widespread hysteria concerning drugs has made it acceptable for police to violate "rights" that would otherwise be respected in other cases, such as shoplifting.
I chatted with Andrew about a number of interesting topics, such as an upcoming drug test he'll be taking as a requirement for a job application. The job is not the sort where human error could put people's lives at risk; but apparently the drug test, a sort of clumsy tour of an applicant's body chemistry, is perfectly legal. We both feel drug tests are incredibly invasive and that Thomas Jefferson would no doubt have found the idea abhorrent. Andrew said that his old girlfriend, who is into studying such things, says that the 4th Amendment, the one concerning search and seizure, has been steadily eroded by the courts in modern times. I said that, in my opinion, most "rights" are restricted by courts when an new evil is widely held to be undermining the nation. The widespread hysteria concerning drugs has made it acceptable for police to violate "rights" that would otherwise be respected in other cases, such as shoplifting. Shoplifting is an annoyance, but it isn't regarded as a national tragedy. Specifically what drugs should be aggresively prohibited is a matter of some debate between Andrew and myself. We both think marijuana generally contributes to law-abiding behaviour, whereas alcohol, which is mostly legal, contributes to most crime in this country. We both think heroin is a special form of evil. But even there I have my doubts about the value of prohibition. Andrew thinks drug prohibition serves a useful purpose in keeping drugs out of the chemistries of children. That may well be true, but I think the only place to raise children safely is in rural areas, where evils are few and far between. Elizabeth appeared at this point and disagreed. She thinks that if she'd grown up in East Bumfuck Kansas, she would have done nothing but drink and screw all the live long day, being as bored as the isolation would have made her. Yet I know in my own case rural isolation, while keeping me socially stunted, also provided me an environment in which I learned how to entertain myself, where I learned how to be intensely creative. Applying those forces to the new situation, where I am as dissolute as anyone I know, creates these musings. I am rare and I am proud.

I thought maybe I should take a nap, but then I realized I was incredibly hungry. So I went down to the Corner to score some pizza. But I was met by a contingent of freaks: Cecelia and Leticia the Brazilian Girls, Karen the German Girl, the boy Jesse, and Annie the Taurus. Pagan Easter and the spring weather had inspired some colour into the girls: Karen wore a long velvety red dress and Cecelia a short velvety green one. Spring had not yet come for Leticia; she was wearing a long distressed black skirt and lots of fishnet. Jesse had cleaned up a little since last night he had been drenched in much beer. This was the first time in a long time that I've seen him in something other than his tattered Skinny Puppy tee shirt. Unlike the goths, Annie the Taurus usually wears conventional casual clothes. The only thing odd in her appearance is that these days she has short and very bleached hair.

As large and as impoverished as my contingent was I knew the food was going to have to be cheap.
I was actually rather disappointed to have run across this contingent, since now it was their expectation that I would be hanging out with them. They were as bored as ever (they'd been on their way to my house), so I came up with the idea that we all go eat pizza. But on the Corner, they were possessed by second thoughts and indecision about precisely what they wanted to eat. The Brazilian Girls all went into a Chinese restaurant briefly, were shocked by the prices, and rendezvoused with me and the others at Gumby's Pizza, which, as horrid as the pizza is, provides good bang for the buck. As large and as impoverished as my contingent was I knew the food was going to have to be cheap. Using a $1 coupon, I got the "Giant" 20 inch pizza. Contributions to the $8.65 we needed came mostly in the form of pocket change: 50 cents from Cecelia, $2 from Jesse, etc. I paid the most money of course. Indecision swept through us again like a storm though when we had to decide what toppings to get on the pizza. After much wrangling, it was decided that the pizza be half pineapple and half mushroom. Such a compromise was necessitated by Annie, who doesn't like any vegetables on her pizza and accepted pineapple only because it can be easily removed.

He made the loud annoying non-language protests of a spoiled child when others, particularly Cecelia, complained.
We were joined by Josh Mustin and Tad as the pizza came out of the oven. Tad had the grace to not assist us in eating; he shambled off. Josh, however, dived right in. He made the loud annoying non-language protests of a spoiled child when others, particularly Cecelia, complained. For want of excitement, Josh Mustin ended up joining our contingent.

The Aquarian Heroin Addict appeared as we ate and she chatted with the girls. She wore a veil over her head to conceal horrible leisons on her face. Her healthlessness always makes me feel nauseated when she is around. Especially when I have a hangover.

Among my friends, a good skill to have when the pizza comes out is the skill of being able to eat rapidly. I am a master. But the rest of the day bits of skin hung from the roof of my mouth from where I'd been burned. Karen the German Girl complained of similar problems.

Josh and I picked up some individual beers at the Corner Market and rendezvoused with the others on the porch of the Dynashack.

There were some beers and much wine left over from purchases made last night. We all consumed these while sitting and chatting on the porch. What we discussed I don't recall. No doubt I led them in some vicious gossip. We also reconstructed some memories of last night.

A teevee party started when the Simpsons came on. It was an especially weird and wonderful episode (I say that about all Simpsons episodes); the one where the concept of utopian suburbia is viciously parodied. Houses are huge and clean themselves, children are well behaved and even kind to one another, and your boss (Mr. Scorpio) is imaginative, witty and easy-going. But not all is well beneath the veneer of utopia; turn your back and an owl swoops down to snatch a cute little chipmunk or your ideal boss tries to overtake the whole west coast by force of arms. I especially liked the surrealness of the final scenes. The gratuitous violence was perfect and hilarious.

After King of the Hill (which I insisted on watching despite the sentiments of the others), I played some Big Fun videotapes for the others. Josh Mustin left, then Jesse took away everyone but Cecelia, who stayed behind to get drunk with me. I like things much better when it is just me and Cecelia. I find myself being easily annoyed by the banter I hear when there are a lot of disaffected youth hanging out in one room together. Cecelia and I sat drinking vino and watching videotapes. Suddenly we heard a crash in the street.

Since Elizabeth and the driver are coincidentally friends, Elizabeth was "cool" about the whole thing.
One of Elizabeth's friends, driving East down Wertland, had somehow managed to sideswipe Elizabeth's Mercury Sable where it sat, parked facing West on the left side of the street. Coincidentally, Elizabeth was just arriving on foot at the Dynashack. Cecelia and I ran out to bear witness. The driver had apparently been emotionally distraught at the time of the accident and thus the collision. The damage: the Sable's left front wheel had been sheered off its axle and the body dented and scraped all down the left side. The driver's car was damaged in far more severe ways. Since Elizabeth and the driver are coincidentally friends, Elizabeth was "cool" about the whole thing. Insurance information was exchanged. A cop was called. No charges were filed. Cecelia and I finished a bottle of cheap white wine and began another.

Suddenly Bn arrived. He was being troubled by some perennial Helen problems and was emotionally upset as well. But the bottle of blush vino he bore and the Cure which Cecelia put on the stereo eventually worked small miracles on his mood.

Bn drove Cecelia and I out to the Kroger at Barracks Road where he bought another bottle of vino and I picked up some all natural juice to use as a mixer with my vodka. We returned to the Corner and went to a set of rooms on the second floor of the Follettes Building; Cecelia had been invited to come by earlier today while we were in front of Gumby's. People living in those rooms include friend-of-the-Dynashack Liz West and a number of punk rocker types. It's a cool place to live; it's kind of run down, but the rooms are stately and antique, the windows have a commanding view of the Corner, and the rent is low. We sat in the hallway and chatted with Liz West, Sky (a laid-back friendly guy who used to work at the Rising Sun Bakery), a number of girls, and perhaps others. They'd been smoking "resin" but that was gone now. We all did some untaxing socializing. It was refreshing to hang out in a completely new place with a good mix of unfamiliar faces.

God bless the touchingly quaint innocent lives of the youth of today.
Returning to the Dynashack, Bn went off to do other things. But first he was quizzed by Cecelia as to where he was going and what he was doing. She doesn't make it easy for someone to break away.

Back at the Dynashack I broke away by just lying on my bed face down. Still, she cooked me half of a baked potato and I rolled over and ate it. Her night was spent on the couch in the living room. God bless the touchingly quaint innocent lives of the youth of today.


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