Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Path: mit-eddie!wuarchive!psuvax1!xavier!hankins
From: hankins@cs.swarthmore.edu (Luke Hankins)
Subject: Sigh....
Message-ID: <L19G775@xavier.swarthmore.edu>
Sender: news@xavier.swarthmore.edu (USENET News System)
Organization: The 'Real' World
Date: Fri, 6 Apr 90 08:06:19 GMT

	Ender just seems to wander up to the bar, from where, no one can be
sure.  Dumping a roll of MUDpennies onto the bar, he orders a Mountain Dew.
"It's 3AM here, hope this keeps me awake" he mumbles to himself.  He walks
slowly to the line, giving you a chance to really look at him.  The first
thing you notice is the tiny black kitten riding on his shoulder, matching
his beret, and, in fact every other item of colthing he is wearing.  The
dull black jumpsuit covers his tall thin frame, and his face is a mask void
of emotion.  Reaching the chalk line, he holds the glass up for the kitten
to drink from, and begins to speak.
	"Wow.  I saw this place being built from the ground up.  I left for
a while, but came back, just because I needed a place to talk."
	He looks around and notices a few friends in the corners.
	"Hi Hildebaby!  Funny how I only found that you had mono in here.
Guess I don't get around much any more.  Sigh... Oh, well, I'll be back in
the fall."
	Continuing their roving, his eyes reach Nao and stop.
	"Hi there.  Hope you and your ex are getting along.  Ya know, I
just had done to me what I did to you last spring, and it hurts like hell.  
I'm gladthings worked out as well as they did, dispite my stupid bumbling.
*hug*"

	Ender absentmindedly strokes his kitten as he stares into the fire.  

	"Like a few people here, I'm unable to cry.  It sucks.  But I'm get
ahead of myself."	
	"I met Rachel eight months ago as the sister of a friend's friend.
we were going out soon thereafter, and did so for just under six months.  I
was truly happy for a while, but dealing with her mother grew to be too much
of a strain, and I was LJBFed.  Ok, so it was a mutual decision, but I've
grown to despise my part in it."
	"Oh, right, it might help to know that she was 16, and I'm 19." He
explains.
	"Well, since then, I've been really depressed, moping around and
just wondering what to do whith my life.  I tried flirting, one of the true
joys in life, and that worked for a while, but it ended up being the classic
'Hold one person while thinking of another.' Ick.  I know that in the long
run I'll be ok, but at the moment, it hurts like hell.  Why?  Why couldn't
she have had a mother like mine, instead of one the won't let her apply yo
Earlham because it's 'too liberal'?  (And I go to Swarthmore, no wonder she
didn't like me...)"
	Looking at the clock, he remembers what time he has to work today
and sighs.  Loomking down at the chalk line at his feet, he shrugs and
walks, no, pads up to the fireplace.  Removing the kittens head from the now
empty glass, he places it gingerly on the flaming logs.
	"To Time.... May She heal all wounds."
	Stepping back, Ender waits for a moment until the glass explodes
with a tinkle, and wanders off to a dark corner to cry.  Virtual crying is
better than none at all...


--
______________________________________________________________________________
Luke Hankins (alh92@swarthmr.bitnet) |"Ah, It's great being young and insane!"
hankins@cs.swarthmore.edu            |"She thought I was crazy, but I was just
While not (EndOfLife) do Havefun(me);|  growing old...."  --Steely Dan
Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!ukma!usenet.ins.cwru.edu!ncoast!allbery
From: allbery@NCoast.ORG (Brandon S. Allbery)
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: Re: Yeah cats! (was Re: Some ramblings)
Message-ID: <1990Apr3.233448.5424@NCoast.ORG>
Date: 3 Apr 90 23:34:48 GMT
References: <9003292120.AA05832@rush.cc.cmu.edu> <1990Mar31.012432.13643@NCoast.ORG> <8803@pogo.WV.TEK.COM>
Reply-To: allbery@ncoast.ORG (Brandon S. Allbery)
Followup-To: alt.callahans
Organization: North Coast Public Access UN*X, Cleveland, OH
Lines: 17

As quoted from <8803@pogo.WV.TEK.COM> by andyd@pogo.WV.TEK.COM (Laura Davidson):
+---------------
| In article <1990Mar31.012432.13643@NCoast.ORG> allbery@ncoast.ORG (Brandon S. Allbery) writes:
| >"Hmmm.  I wish I understood her.  Wonder who or what she was toasting?"
| 
| "Now, now.  This is Callahan's.  And Fast Eddie is watching for someone
| prying."
+---------------

Tsk, tsk.  One expects to be able to at least understand the *words* of the
toast, if not their meaning.  (If a sound like a cross between a siren and a
slide whistle can be said to have "words", that is.)

++Brandon
-- 
Brandon S. Allbery (human), allbery@NCoast.ORG (Internet), BALLBERY (MCI Mail)
ALLBERY (Delphi), uunet!cwjcc.cwru.edu!ncoast!allbery (UUCP), BrandonA (A-OL)
Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!think!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!usc!cs.utexas.edu!uunet!mcsun!ukc!newcastle.ac.uk!news
From: Daarin
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: A Few Words...
Message-ID: <1990Apr6.065659.7137@newcastle.ac.uk>
Date: 6 Apr 90 06:56:59 GMT
Sender: news@newcastle.ac.uk
Distribution: alt
Organization: University of Newcastle upon Tyne, UK, NE1 7RU
Lines: 75


	Picking himself up from the floor, where he has been lying quietly
smirking to himself ever since he left his seat at the bar so precipitately,
Daarin smooths some of the creases from his shirt and picks up his hat. One
or two fuzzies seem to have attached themselves to his sleeves and are trying,
with commendable success, to go to sleep there. He thinks of moving them to
someplace more comfortable, but then thinks better of it and leaves them 
alone for a while. Placing a small stack of coins on the bar-top, he orders
a few drinks and, barely managing to carry them all, sets off across the
room.

	First stop, Wildy's table. Putting one of the drinks down beside the
notebook, 'old fuzz-features' speaks softly...

	"I do not know exactly what to say to you, for, even though I have
moved through a similar country to the one in which you now find yourself, I
have not followed the same path or seen the same places. However, I can
understand the way that you feel and I just want to let you know that the
pain _will_ fade with time, leaving behind a small flower of wisdom. We all
need to learn as we go through life and the only way to do so is by making
the occasional mistakes and feeling that agony which we must all bear at 
some time or another. I do not think that there _are_ any great navigators
who find the way around pain - it comes to everyone eventually and the only
way past the pain is to go through it, without giving in to apathy or despair.
Only then can you come to understand what you have been feeling and come to
terms with life in all of its shades, hues and forms. So take heart, my
friend and be assured that there are people who care. And _write_, Wildy - 
let your feelings flow into your words, for you will surely profit by that
just as much as they will."

	With a faint smile, Daarin moves on, leaving behind one of the small
warm fuzzies, now purring contentedly on the table-top. His next stop is 
beside another newcomer...

	"Welcome, Ralph. I too delight in self-searching and introspection.
I have also 'annulled a romance' because I wasn't very proud of my own
behaviour and I have, in the past, been guilty of hiding from my emotions.
So, you could say that we are very alike, we two (although I am not an
Eagle scout, or any other kind of scout for that matter). Well, for whatever
reason, have a drink on me. (Ginger ale, of course!)"

	Stepping back across the bar-room, Daarin narrowly avoids being spitted
by the (official?) Callahan's fencing team. Leaving two drinks on a table, he
cries out...

	"These are for you two, when you've finished trying to turn one
another into virtual sieves!"

	With a devilish grin on his face, he dodges a half-hearted swipe from
Thalen and narrowly avoids the same from Jilara. Approaching the window where
Nick is standing, he places a small glass of fine-grade oil on the sill...

	"This is for you, for all of the work which you do to keep us from
swimming in a sea of broken glass!"

	Finally, Daarin steps up to the chalk line...

	"You'll be pleased(?) to hear that I'm going away for a couple of
weeks now. I have been called to visit a far-off land named Eire and won't
be back until near the end of the month. In the meantime, here's the best 
toast which I could think of :

		To _you_. All of you. What more can I say?"

	Suddenly, he has gone, leaving behind one slightly confused warm fuzzy
(now sitting on the back of a passing green kitten) and an empty glass. The
glass hangs for a moment in mid-air, before exploding into a rainbow shower
of sweet-scented, soft dust. Meanwhile, the kitten delivers its small fuzzy 
burden to Lyra - for this seems to be the right place.

	"Huh! Never could stand a show-off!" someone mutters.

		 /=====================================\
		< Daarin | A.Waterworth@uk.ac.newcastle >
		 \=====================================/
Path: mit-eddie!mintaka!yale!cs.utexas.edu!uunet!zephyr.ens.tek.com!tektronix!reed!thalen
From: thalen@reed.bitnet (Thalen the confused)
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: Re: Something to say
Summary: Bleah.
Keywords: silly
Message-ID: <14635@reed.UUCP>
Date: 5 Apr 90 23:00:43 GMT
References: <78854@tut.cis.ohio-state.edu>
Sender: news@reed.UUCP
Reply-To: thalen@reed.bitnet (Thalen the confused)
Organization: Reed College, Portland, OR
Lines: 14

Thenomain:

}	'Twas brillig and the integrals were gyre and gimble in the wabe.
}	All limits were the borogoves, and the calculations outgrabe.
}	"Beware the Calculus, my son.  The jaws that bite, the limits that
}		catch.
}	Beware the Jub-Jub Bird and shun the Integrating Bundersnatch."

     Thalen raises his fencing mask for just long enough to look upset to his
stomach.  He conjures a peanut about the size of a (DECstation 3100) toaster,
which is obviously made of foam rubber, and chucks it at Thenomain, before
getting back to his buisness of aquiring welts.  :-)

                                    Thalen, Irreparable Punster
Path: mit-eddie!mit-amt!snorkelwacker!usc!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!sunybcs!ubvms.cc.buffalo.edu!v118pv6e
From: v118pv6e@ubvmsb.cc.buffalo.edu (Christophe R Invidiata)
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: WARNING - Lurker Alert
Message-ID: <20963@eerie.acsu.Buffalo.EDU>
Date: 6 Apr 90 10:20:37 GMT
Sender: nobody@acsu.Buffalo.EDU
Reply-To: v118pv6e@ubvmsb.cc.buffalo.edu
Organization: Asylum at Buffalo
Lines: 19


	I've been a'lurkin' outside this here establishment for quite a while
now, so I figured that now is as good a time as any to walk in.

	A tallish man with long, curly black hair, a black leather jacket with
some odd painting on the back, a t-shirt with a large "A" in a circle, torn 
jeans and large black boots ambles up to the bar, tosses a dollar to mike, grabs
up his shot of Southern Comfort and walks over to the line.

	He pauses for a moment, just staring at the flames.  He then tosses back
the shot, hold up the glass and says - " Here's to the final edge of a dying 
rebellion.  The last call for the last cause," and whips the glass into the 
flames with a sound like a rifle shot.

	He stands there for another moment, shivering, then seems to shake
something off, and strides up to the bar with a half-sarcastic grin.  "So what's
the theme of the night, gentlepersons?"

				Zippo T.C.
Path: mit-eddie!mit-amt!snorkelwacker!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!ucbvax!HAWK.ULOWELL.EDU!wgarmil
From: wgarmil@HAWK.ULOWELL.EDU (WildCard)
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: Is anybody....out there?
Message-ID: <9004061534.AA12576@hawk>
Date: 6 Apr 90 15:34:37 GMT
Sender: daemon@ucbvax.BERKELEY.EDU
Lines: 27



Subject: Tommy, can hear me...?

The random one must be in a good mood today.  He is currently only about a foot
tall, flying around the room in his make-shift "superhero" costume of his own
design, buzzing the kittens, and laughing.

He stops flying, hoving about five feet in the air over the chalk line.

"Whew!  Not *that's* what I call fun!"

"Before I forget why I stopped by today, I have a question to ask (a mun-
dane one, unfortunately): is anyone besides myself seeing these messages?
I am currently trying a new path, and need to know if I'm finally getting thru."

"I know this really isn't the place to ask such a mundane question, but I do
need to know if I am able to participate in the discussions."

As WildCard starts to fly around the bar again, you can hear him mutter
(hopefully joking) "Where's Kevin?  Hehehe!  >:-)"
   
   _     __  _      __                     How can we dance
  ' )   /   //   / /  )            /          when our earth is turning?
   / / / o // __/ /    __.  __  __/        How can we sleep
  (_(_/ <_</_(_/ (__/ (_/|_/ (_(_/_           while our beds are burning?
     (wgarmil@hawk.ulowell.edu)                  -Midnight Oil
Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!apple!mips!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!samsung!sdd.hp.com!hplabs!hpfcso!hpcndaw!jason%hpcndjdz.HP.COM@hpcnd
From: jason@hpcndjdz.HP.COM (Jason Zions)
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: Re: The Hollow Wisp.
Message-ID: <21780010@hpcndjdz.HP.COM>
Date: 4 Apr 90 22:31:30 GMT
References: <2478@raven.ukc.ac.uk>
Organization: HP Colorado Networks Division
Lines: 37


>	The poet stands from his corner table, and clears his throat. "I
>can testify to the similarity in innocence.  My experience in life has
>been that innocence is pain waiting to happen. It is lessons that are yet
>to be learned, instead of contemplated. A child's innocence is pure, and
>must therefore be forgiven. An adult's innocence is sometimes pure luck,
>but is most often his or her own ignorance about the world around them.

"Ouch!" Jazz winces and turns. "I believe your experience and empathize as
well as I can, but it hurts to know that some experience it that way." He
puzzles a second over this sentence, trying to find a way to reword it,
failing, shaking his head.

>	"I hope that none of you have fallen into the trap of innocence,
>for it can be a deadly one for those who don't turn away from it."

"Ouch again. I think I disagree that the innocence of adults is always the
same as that of the child. I agree that, in some sense, innocence is indeed
lessons to be learned. I think that the adult's innocence is based in the
contemplation of that very fact! The truly innocent adult, secure in his
pain and memory of lessons learned and of the knowledge that surely more
pain lies ahead, nonetheless awaits the coming lessons full of breathless
wonder and with awe."

He looks down at his shirt, brushes a bit of dirt off the "/nev/dull"
printed in friendly pink ink on blue cotton. "The loss of innocence comes
with that loss of wonderment, of awe. With the belief that the worst is
over, and quite possibly the best as well; with the hubris that we
understand the world. The difference between an adult's innocence and a
child's is that an adult knows what innocence is, knows that he or she
possesses some sense of it, knows that it can be lost far more easily than
it can be regained.

"Of course, I could be wrong. The world continues to surprise me,
especially within these walls."

Jazz
Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!apple!mips!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!samsung!sdd.hp.com!hplabs!hpfcso!daq
From: daq@hpfcso.HP.COM (Doug Quarnstrom)
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: Free Association for Freedom Fighters
Message-ID: <9060055@hpfcso.HP.COM>
Date: 5 Apr 90 04:31:11 GMT
Organization: Hewlett-Packard, Fort Collins, CO, USA
Lines: 87

It is cold and raining outiside now.  I can hear the grass
singing.  The city lights from my balcony scream and
shout of mankind's never ending love of nature.  I am
bold and energetic.  So here is something to confuse
and confound you.

_-* _-* _-* _-* _-* _-* _-* _-* _-* _-* _-* _-* _-* _-* _-* _-*

I sing the churnings and infinite burnings.
We all toe the line when earing our way.
Feet on the ground and arms in the air and limitless 
Lines of meticulous, ridiculous, violent hair.

Faces and places and feelings and hurt.
Sallow and shallow.  
Infinite cheerleaders in mini skirts.
It just doesn't work.

They line up in queues, in tatty old shoes,
To remonstrate,
Pontificate.
It just doesn't pay.
Oh Sure!  They'll show us the way.

Well thanks and good bye.
No time to cry for you or myself.
I keep my hearts on darkened old shelves.

I know you.  Should I show you?

Not a chance!  No space in my veins for bleeding romance.

Lines on lips and rotating hips remind me of
motions and the potions for success.
Elaborate formulae for simple excess.

Retreat when defeated is what he once told me.
She sold me her soul to comfort and hold me.
They lined up for miles to scoff and behold me.

They laugh and they cringe as their spirits
are singed.

But the flowing soothes.
A balm that removes the heat.
It is calm and discrete and never tells what it knows.
It shows me some things, and it hums and it sings
Of times long ago and places remote.
It reminds me of hope.

Insanity.
Vanity.
Love and duress.
I get the feeling they're not impressed at all
With the little games and devices.
Or personal vices.

It takes more to show them that I am not me,
That they are not we.

It rises, despising all.
It stands straight and tall.
It looks around, making no sound.
A titan!
An icon to self sufficiency.

Oh Mary Magdalene, where are you now?
I bow to your maudlin caresses.
And your flowing tresses fill the skies,
Bring tears to my eyes.

Jesus forgave you, but did he save you?
Did you die old an alone?
Did Paul disown you?
Did the Pharisees phone you?

Oooohhhh! It just doesn't makes sense.
Tearing down walls to put up fences.
God I hate these defenses.
Cold and pretentious.
Old and entrenched.

Dallying.
Dithering.
We wither away.

Doug-----------------------------------------------------
Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!usc!cs.utexas.edu!samsung!sdd.hp.com!hplabs!hpfcso!daq
From: daq@hpfcso.HP.COM (Doug Quarnstrom)
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: Silence
Message-ID: <9060056@hpfcso.HP.COM>
Date: 5 Apr 90 06:14:03 GMT
Organization: Hewlett-Packard, Fort Collins, CO, USA
Lines: 29

It is very late.  The net is silent now.  The carriers are resting.
The human voices are sleeping.

The radio voices of the stars speak to me now.  They speak of
thousands of light years of desolation and separation.
I hear them and understand.  They enhance me.

The human voices are still.  Their hope and despair and
anxiety safely tucked into a different virtual reality.

The silence comforts me.  It reminds me of the icy chill
on my feet caused by a stream on a hot summer day in the 
mountains of Vancouver Island.

It reminds me of the cool mist, encountered after a hot
and tiring hike to the top of Multnoma falls in Oregon.

The electronic void feels like the vast blue-black of
the ocean at 120 feet off the walls of the continental
shelf.  I see vastness there.

Cool.  Chill.  Separate.

Big life.  Moving out of my vision, but there nevertheless.

In the silence of this wonderful void, I wish you all love
and hope and happiness.

:-|
Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!bat.cis.ohio-state.edu!kent_a_jenkins
From: kent_a_jenkins@bat.cis.ohio-state.edu
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: Reality Check ($32.95)
Summary: The Meaning of... well...
Message-ID: <78976@tut.cis.ohio-state.edu>
Date: 6 Apr 90 16:37:12 GMT
Sender: usenet_news@tut.cis.ohio-state.edu
Reply-To: Thenomain <kent-j@cis.ohio-state.edu>
Organization: Ohio State University Computer and Information Science
Lines: 53

Thenomain watches Thalen throw a huge Penut at him, and dodges it as it comes
crashing by.  "Thank goodness you didn't say that was the size of a furnace
(DECSYSTEMS-2060) or I wouldn't be here today."  The lad seems somewhat
pleased.  "I could recite the rest of that parody of a parody, if you would
like, oh Thalen the Wizard."  He smirks wryly.  "If it doth beseech thee."

He nods and turns, once again, back to his card game and looks up at Wildy.
"Was that your bid, or were you just talking to the crowd again?"  Thenomain
eyes his opponent's cards curiously.

"Reality Check, please!"  Thenomain extends his hand out, palm up, and some
passer-by slaps a large peice of paper on it.  The lad takes the paper in his
hands and almost gags.  "Was I /this/ real, or something?"  He squints,
reading something at the bottem of the tab.  Fine print.  "Oooohhhh...
Blast.  I knew I shouldn't have come in here dressed as myself, looking like
myself, and acting like myself.  At least in alt.slack I would have just
been killed by those slackards."  He sighs, shrugs, and places the bill on
the slick-topped table in front of him.

-=-
[Being a little out of phase here, folks.  Forgive me if I stop being virtual
for a few lines.]

I don't know about the rest of you, but in the very brief time that I've been
here at alt.callahans, I've noticed that the discussion is of the supportive
type, about pain and lonliness and of getting over it.
I trust very few people with this sort of information and instead go the
alternate route - not talk about the aforementioned.
Recently, (alright, yesterday) I decided that my attitude was generally
borish (for me, at least), that I wasn't having any of the appropriate fun
that should pretty damn well be in everyone's lives, in one form or another.
(I just like to recite really silly poetry, so sue me.)
No, I don't know exactly what I'm trying to say (that's a norm with me),
except, perhaps, I'm taking all of this seriousness far too much to heart.
I am genuinely concerned about this roomfull of depression (although I did
like the fencing, though I didn't understand half of it).
Black isn't my kind of color, I suppose.  I wear it to enhance other colors.
Greens, blues, reds, yellows (I just stay away from this because it doesn't
look good on me), browns.  It's more than a black/white world out there and
I'm almost positive that every single one of you can say something good about
it.
It's just a matter of wanting to try.

[We now return you to your regularly scheduled oddities already underway.]
-=-
  ...looks at the broken pencil in his hand.  Snapping his gaze up at the
assailant, Thenomain lunges, pencil peices in hand, for the man's throat.
"This is for Hubert!"

-=-
--   Thenomain    --    Kent Jenkins    --  Card-carrying zealot  --
--  jenkins@osu-20.ircc.ohio-state.edu  --  in the Order of the   --
--       kent-j@cis.ohio-state.edu      --  Fweeble.              --
