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- | | c o m m u n i c a t i o n s | |
- | |________________________________________________________________| |
- |____________________________________________________________________|
-
- ...presents... Sickness
- by Franken Gibe
-
- >>> a cDc publication.......1993 <<<
- -cDc- CULT OF THE DEAD COW -cDc-
- ____ _ ____ _ ____ _ ____ _ ____
- |____digital_media____digital_culture____digital_media____digital_culture____|
-
- Thinking is the most painful thing I know. Thoughts can metastasize,
- spreading anxiety like a cancer; thoughts can be tumors, their black tendrils
- creeping into every sense and sensation, making life a kind of death. When I'm
- sick with thinking, it's usually because I've run barefoot through the snake
- bed of That Issue - my mortality. I try - I SWEAR I try not to let capital-
- letter issues like Existence and Mortality paralyze me. It's just that in the
- fever of thought it's all I can do to look out into the wide world and not see
- a grotesque masquerade. A thousand thousand masks turn toward me with their
- hideous frozen grins and hollow eyes. And I know that behind the masks are
- death faces.
-
- I'm sick with obsession. I don't want to die, but the world dies around
- me, and I gasp and choke on last exhalations and the sweet stench of decay. I
- feel myself dying and I wonder why, WHY. I stare at the clouds in the
- nighttime sky, glowing orange with the city's street lights, and I scream for
- answers, I beg for secrets, I whine for special dispensations. The clouds roll
- silently on, and I know they're just fucking clouds, physical phenomenon as far
- from having any transcendent consequence as I have.
-
- JUST BIOLOGICAL? Is this it? I can hear the distant echo of some distant
- classroom voice droning on about the conservation of matter and energy. Is
- this all science has to offer us, the immortality of our essence, but not our
- consciousness? The eternity of everything that isn't WHO WE ARE as self-aware
- beings?
-
- I'm feverish with self-consciousness. I'm sick on the notion that I am
- the only source of my own transcendence. I'm the captain and crew of a sinking
- ship who boasts to the wind and waves of my marvelous destination: that island
- of dreams that I've never seen, but whose existence keeps me from plunging
- overboard.
-
- Culture? Culture is a mat of brittle twigs and dried leaves that covers a
- depthless hole. I can feel myself slipping, falling through the rickety mesh.
-
- I NEED transcendence. I'm dying of the pressure. The universe looms
- immense around me, and crushes my lungs. I can barely breathe. I'm so sick.
- I want to vomit up the venom. I want to RAGE AT THE WORLD, I want to fucking
- kick a hole in the eternal and climb through. I want to curl up in a ball
- beneath some table and hide from Death.
- _______ __________________________________________________________________
- / _ _ \|Demon Roach Undrgrnd.806/794-4362|Kingdom of Shit.....806/794-1842|
- ((___)) |Cool Beans!..........510/THE-COOL|Polka AE {PW:KILL}..806/794-4362|
- [ x x ] |The Alcazar..........401/782-6721|Moody Loners w/Guns.415/221-8608|
- \ / |The Works............617/861-8976|Finitopia...........916/673-8412|
- (' ') |ftp - zero.cypher.com in pub/cdc |ftp - ftp.eff.org in pub/cud/cdc|
- (U) |==================================================================|
- .ooM |Copr. 1993 cDc communications by Franken Gibe 04/01/93-#221|
- \_______/|All Rights Drooled Away. SIX GLORIOUS YEARS of cDc|
-
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