=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= = F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Beautiful Night --------------- 3:41 AM, says my computer. 4:37, says my alarm clock. I trust the latter, since my computer is all fucked up at the moment, and this is not good. In precisely twelve hours and twenty-three minutes an examination will begin. I will be taking it. Shit, I ain't prepared... but I don't want to be prepared any more, 'cause, frankly, I don't give a fuck about it. I just want to get it over with, fail the damn thing, explain to mom that this college thing isn't really for me, and then get on with my life. Get a job, or something. Perhaps go through an easier exam, just to get into the second year of college and ward off the army for another twelve months. Perhaps fuck it all and try to get permanently relieved of the army because of my allergic asthma. Either way, my life is about to change a lot. I came home [well... as much as I can call this dump I reside in at the moment "home"] some twenty minutes ago. I sat on a bench in the park outside my building for at least an hour and a half, listening to a new tape I recorded yesterday. Kickass music. Goes well with friday nights in the capitol, though the park was a bit too tranquil for the energetic breakbeats. Yeah, and then there were the people in the park. Real odd, you know, so many lives, so many destinies, pass each other bye, without ever knowing about the existence of each other. Two benches to my left, five skaters deeply involved with rolling a joint and showing each other how happy they were about it. Right between us, a beggar getting a good nights sleep, emitting a loud snore here and there. Straight ahead of me, on the opposite end of the small park, a couple, getting busy. _Real_ busy, from what I could see. A couple of teenagers having a quiet conversation to my far right, and probably several more souls in the park, outside my range of vision. It is a nice, silent night. I could even see the stars through the slowly dying leaves of the tree towering above me. At one point, a fat old gipsy woman strolled by, murmuring something to herself under her breath, pushing a beat-up shopping cart filled mostly with trash and half-rotten bits of food in front of her. She was dressed in torn up filthy rags, and an odor that almost turned my stomach followed close behind her. She didn't stop at that, she just had to push my stomach all the way. Seven or eight meters to my right, the slow steady squeal of the cart stopped, and she started frantically pulling her skirts up. I kept watching, though the sight was disgusting, I was curious about what was happening. I couldn't see what she was doing, but she must've pushed her hand into her panties, and took out a handful of shit, because she shook her hand off, and something very dark splattered all over the path. She repeated this several times, and then continued to inch forward nice'n'steady, relieved of the contents of her panties. If there was any doubt as to what she dug out from under her skirt, it was all chased away by the horrible stench that came my way moments later. I tried to breathe as little as I could, got up, and started walking away from this miniature ecological disaster. The skaters fell silent for a moment as I passed them by, but merrily went on rolling their spliff [quite unsuccesfuly from what I could see, it was obviously not their first one tonight] after I strolled away not paying much attention to them. The night was nice, but I was dressed too lightly for it, I was becoming a bit bored, and the ninety minute tape was coming to it's end. Oh, yeah, and the gipsy woman didn't help make me feel any better, either. So I made a small circle around the park, and headed back here, to this little flat I reside in. I had no new mail, my HTTP link was just _so_ fucking slow, and I felt in the right mood, so I fired up the editor, and here I am now, at line 71, listening to some mellow r'n'b on the radio. It's nice, actually. I feel real good, because I like this kind of smooth chill-out atmosphere, I like being all alone with nothing but a deep hip-hop beat and the slow firing of my synapses, I really like to sit in darkness and let loose. I like not having to worry about anything. Though I probably should. But I like to think that I have realized the deeper meaning of that old cliche of "be yourself". If I just can't pass this exam, then passing it just "ain't me", so why should I let it bother me? If passing this exam is the precondition to a glorious carrier in computing r&d, then this glorious carrier isn't me, either. If I am damn good about coding, and am damn good about making music, and I like doing both of these, then that's what I should do in life. Come to think of it, I really don't know what made me want to become a scientist-type, anyhow. I always was interested in how things work, but today's physics is parsecs away from what it was back in the glorious days of Newton & CO. No one wants to know how things work, anymore. All they want is more data to process, more numbers, more accurate measurements. It is a huge bureocratoid system, and it's no wonder that it gives birth to a stereotypical picture of a scientist as a skinny nerd with thick glasses, incapable to shit properly if he doesn't calculate the proper trajectory of the turd first. So fuck it all. I will be what I want to be, what I dreamt about when I was a kid, and what I dreamt about ever since I realized that "science" was just a huge lie; I will be a hacker, and I will be a poet, a musician and a martial artist. And if I can't make enough money this way to live through the next day, then I'll find something else to do until I can. But I will be myself. I will live through what would otherwise remain just a childhood fantasy. Damn! Why should it remain only that? I don't have a clue about how come I realize these things only now! I mean, I get this one stinking' life to live through, and what do I spend it on? Doing what others expect from me and dreaming about being something completely different? Fuck that. A roof over my head, food on the plate, and a fuck here and there, is all that I need to be able to do what I want in life - and these don't require much effort to have. In an hour or so, dawn will come. I will wait for it completely awake, probably for the first time in my life... and I will enjoy it. Just like I will enjoy every moment of my life, from now on, because it is one, it is unique, and it is wonderful if that's how I want it to be. Wanna join me? Phuzzy Logik/CoRRoSioN September 12th, 1998. phuzzy@galeb.etf.bg.ac.yu =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= = 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". 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