=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= = F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= dead man living --------------- i looked around me and noticed that everything had slowed. the cars had slowed, as had the people within them. the radio seemed quiet, the breeze subdued. i looked across my right shoulder at the woman in the car next to mine. her face was staring forward, frightened, as though the sights to her left would scar her eyes forever. my car advanced forward in the queue. i looked across my left shoulder, out the open window. i saw a hand, an arm, and a white sheet. the scene around this display was obscured by my focus. i heard no sound from the sirens, nor from the screaming bodies milling about. this empty shell on the ground was aside from the noise, the movement. peaceful, and at rest amongst the chaos behind it. i had seen an empty shell before that night, but it had never triggered such a response. i wasn't sad, really. i felt no more connected to this shell than any of the others i had seen lying vacant before. i guess that this was the first time i had the consciousness to recognize it. i was alone, sitting in my car, hands cold on the wheel. i saw across my left shoulder the contours of a body underneath a white cover. i saw stillness. i saw a discarded vehicle. does the soul cast off the mind and the body, discarding them when it's had enough? or can the body survive without the soul, the mind without the body? i want to know death well, even become friends. some people stop talking to god, but who ever starts talking to death? death must be an entity like any other, and must possess the same spite and jealousy. i want death to know me. i want death to be my companion, not my shadow. people talk to god to find out what they are, and why. i don't need to know what i am. i am, and that is enough. i want to know what i will be. with my right hand, i silenced the radio. with my right foot, i depressed the gas pedal. i looked up at the sky, then to my left again. from that point on, i looked forward. and i still do. sarikei =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= = Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = = Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= = To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = = "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = = issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= = AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = = FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = = FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = = FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = = WWW *** http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck *** = = http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = = http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = = http://www.simunye.com/fuck = = http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= = (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=