*`!THE HOLD!`*
Issue 13 December 12, 1998
A nice assortment of authors today.
This restores my faith in my readership's desire to support this their mag.
---------------------------------------------------------------
Copyright 1998 by Shadow Wall Press
All works copyright their individual authors
Contributors:
Cait Collins
Dave Gitomer
PURDYzKAT
Funkmeistergoo
Hilary Kerner
Columnists:
Dolomite
Cait Collins
Editor: Daev
RANTING
Welcome back from your pillaging of Mother Nature's sweet goods. I hope that the thought of the murdered being in front of you at the dinner table on Thanksgiving didn't bother you as you headed for fourths you fat pig! Ahhh, release feels so good at 2 am in the morning! Nonetheless, I will try to be brief in this issue's Ranting, considering that my coffee* has just reached my stomach and is trying to make a U-turn. Damn coffee beans of Guatemala. Damn you beans to Hell! Anyway, while my coffee tries to find its way out of the maze that is my digestive tract, I will try to be blunt. What the fuck is an Indian Summer!
Now, I have been told that my hometown Erie, the world's largest site of zebra mussels as far as its inhabitants are concerned, is experiencing an Indian summer. My response: its winter you fucking moron! After spending the night in jail for "harassing an officer" and "resisting arrest", I had several different sources of the meaning of harassment. Then I went around town to ask what the fuck an Indian summer was. Why, because I am Dolomite, not some Johnny-Fun-A lot who spends his time fucking prostitutes (which I am not against by the way). I like to find out people's opinions so that I may laugh at them for being wrong. Anyway, after securing several different sources on Indian summers**, I concluded that an Indian summer makes as much sense as Bill Clinton leading the charge for monogamy.
My reasons for this statement are few and far between, but numerous nonetheless. One, its winter gosh dammit***! Two, what do Indians have to do with all of this? Is it similar with the term "Indian giver"? Have the Native Americans tried to sue Webster's for slander, misrepresentation, and utter prickdom for this felonious insult? Three, or six depending on how you count, What do I fucking care what a 50 degree winter is called! I just fucking like it. Why give it a name? Just let it be so that it comes back more often. Then laugh at those that have snow. But no, we had to name them, thus making them as rare as Bill having "relations" with Hillary.
Now this may just be me, but it's probably all some government plot to further enslave the minds of America's people. Think of it, but not enough for Big Brother to hear you. If you didn't call it an Indian summer, you wouldn't offend the Native Americans. If they weren't offended and took up some of the time of several courts, then more courts would try other trials. If more courts tried more trials, then more people would be justly convicted. If more people were convicted, then more people would be in prison. If more people were in prison, then they would have to build ore prisons. If they built more prisons, then they would have to raise taxes to pay for these new prisons. If they raise taxes, they have to add to the raise to raise their own salaries. If all that was added to our taxes, we, the people, would have a rebellion against The Man who keeps us down. Then anarchy would reign supreme as we hang our former politicians in a hatred seen only when reading the Bible. And they don't want that to happen.
So when you are doing what you do after reading this and someone asks you about the Indian summer that is going on, tell them this: "Go climb the highest building and jump on a bicycle with no seat, you fucking idiot. It's winter you jackass, not summer. What kind of moron are you, the kind that buys your peanut butter and jelly in the same jar? Get the fuck away from me." or something of the like.
Dolomite
*Dolomite does not drink coffee normally. He swishes instant ground coffee and hot water in his mouth before downing it, followed by cream, sugar, and milk. After that, he has a cup of orange juice to get that taste the fuck out of his mouth.
**Several different sources only includes old homeless drunks that he finds when looking for prostitutes.
***Due to some people's opinions, and some freaky dreams that one only could get from reading the Bible on an acid trip, Dolomite is trying to limit his using of the Lord's name in vain.
THE FORUM
Dese are from me mudder.
<< QUESTION: Why did the chicken cross the road?
>> ANSWERS:
>> +-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
>> Pat Buchanan:
>> To steal a job from a decent, hard-working>> American.
>> +-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
>> Louis Farrakhan:
>> The road, you will see, represents the black man.>> The chicken>> crossed>> the>> "black man" in order to trample him and keep him>> down.
>> +-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
>> Bill Gates:
>> I have just released the new Chicken 2000, which>> will both cross>> roads>> AND>> balance your checkbook, though when it divides 3 by>> 2 it gets>> 1.4999999999.
>> +-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
>> Ronald Reagan:
>> I don't recall.
>> +-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
>> The Bible:
>> And God came down from the heavens, and He said>> unto the chicken,>> "Thou>> shalt cross the road." And the Chicken crossed the>> road, and there>> was>> much>> rejoicing.
>> +-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
>> Freud:
>> The fact that you thought that the chicken crossed>> the road>> reveals>> your>> underlying sexual insecurity.
>> +-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
>> L.A. Police Department:
>> Give me ten minutes with the chicken and I'll find>> out.
>> +-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
>> Richard M. Nixon:
>> The chicken did not cross the road. I repeat, the>> chicken did not>> cross>> the>> road.
>> +-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
>> Saddam Hussein:
>> This was an unprovoked act of rebellion and we>> were quite>> justified>> in>> dropping 50 tons of nerve gas on it.
>> +-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
>> Dr. Seuss:
>> Did the chicken cross the road?>> Did he cross it with a toad?>> Yes! The chicken crossed the road,>> but why it crossed it, I've not been told!
>> +-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
>> Ernest Hemingway:
>> To die. In the rain.
>> +-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
>> Buddha:
>> If you ask this question, you deny your own chicken>> nature.
>> +-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
>> Martin Luther King, Jr.:
>> I envision a world where all chickens will be free to>> cross roads>> without>> having their motives called into question.
>> +-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
>> Jerry Seinfeld:
>> Why does anyone cross a road? I mean, why doesn't>> anyone ever>> think>> to>> ask,>> "What the heck was this chicken doing walking>> around all over the>> place>> anyway?"
>> +-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
>> The Pope:
>> That is only for God to know.
>> +-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
>> Grandpa:
>> In my day, we didn't ask why the chicken crossed>> the road.>> Someone>> told>> us>> that the chicken had crossed the road, and that was>> good enough>> for>> us.
>> +-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
>> Colonel Sanders:
>> I missed one?
>> +-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
>> Bill Clinton:
>> I did not have sexual relations with that chicken
PURDYzKAT sent these to me, and i couldn't keep em to m'self. They're actual bumper stickers observed on the highways and biways of this very large continent.
> "Jesus loves you... everyone else thinks you're an asshole."
> "Reality is a crutch for people who can't handle drugs."
> "I said "no" to drugs, but they just wouldn't listen."
> "Friends don't let Friends drive Naked."
> "If we aren't supposed to eat animals, why are they made of meat?"
> "Lottery: A tax on people who are bad at math."
> "Friends help you move. Real friends help you move bodies."
> "Change is inevitable, except from a vending machine."
> "I love cats...they taste just like chicken"
> "Out of my mind. Back in five minutes."
> "As long as there are tests, there will be prayer in public schools
> "Happiness is a belt-fed weapon"
> "Laugh alone and the world thinks you're an idiot."
> "Plan to be spontaneous tomorrow."
> "Death to all fanatics!"
> "The gene pool could use a little chlorine."
> "I didn't fight my way to the top of the food chain to be a > vegetarian."
> "Your kid may be an honor student but you're still an IDIOT!"
> "It's as BAD as you think, and they ARE out to get you."
> "When you do a good deed, get a receipt, in case heaven is like the > IRS."
> "Wink, I'll do the rest!"
> "Okay, who stopped the payment on my reality check?"
> "Time is the best teacher; Unfortunately it kills all its students!"
> "It's lonely at the top, but you eat better."
> "Reality? That's where the pizza delivery guy comes from!"
> "Forget about World Peace.....Visualize Using Your Turn Signal!"
> "Warning: Dates in Calendar are closer than they appear."
> "Give me ambiguity or give me something else."
> "We are born naked, wet and hungry. Then things get worse."
> "Make it idiot proof and someone will make a better idiot."
> "He who laughs last thinks slowest"
> "Always remember you're unique, just like everyone else."
> "Very funny, Scotty. Now beam up my clothes."
> "Puritanism: The haunting fear that someone, somewhere may be happy."
Ø "Consciousness: that annoying time between naps."
------------------------------------------------------
**hang up**
he didn't want any
more children yet
he refused to
use a
condom
he had three
with as many
women in the
neighborhood
so he'd get it
wet inside me
first
then withdraw and
he'd get up on
one knee, go
overtop my middle
balance himself
with his foot on the
bed with the
other knee up to
the cracked
ceiling
my head was
propped on top
of a bunch of
pillows and
the patchwork
comforter was
still beneath my
bottom
mussed up and
he'd lean
forward and
rub the head
back and
forth under-
neath my nose
very slow and drops
would soon
ooze from
there
then
I'd grab his
hand
fat with heft and
I'd pull it up
towards
my eyes and
do the same
meanwhile
the phone would
ring and he'd
almost lose it and
I leaned over and
took the phone
from the hook,
someone calling
a name while
dangling from the
night table but
he continued drawing
tiny sticky circles
around and around
my cheeks
while someone hung there
moaning something
on the other end
before long I
complained that
my eyes were
stinging so he
rubbed them
with both his
hands and
I thrust my
face closer
to that
hard
stiff
purplish
wobblin'
throbbin'
thing
there alone
in mid-
air and we forgot
about the call and
my lips ran
from side to side
across the wide part
then I
pulled it in
my mouth with an
inward swoop and
he did it there
'til he was
done and
that was all
he was good
for and
whoever was on
the other end of
the phone
probably thought
so too, they
hung up.
©cait collins 11.12.98
------------------------------
THE BEACH PARTY
odd place for cocktail party
this sand covered beach by
Atlantic shore. dead in the
middle of autumn. expensive
blue vodka bottle sat stoically
amidst the tan grains of sand.
snuggling up to clamshells
and crablegs. the golden clink
of the engraved shotglasses
rang between the ocean's snorts.
tuxedos and ties danced
with chiffons and silks this October
morn. sand did get in the shoes
of polished black and glitter.
gentle waves encroached on
the reverie and the lapels recoiled.
their babies made sandcastles
and itched golden diapers.
effete snobbery in a truly natural
setting. the chatter droned on:
it was like Sardi's or the Ritz.
nasal drones of French and regal
English mixed. this crowd ate caviar.
EFFETE EAT TOO
they spat on the beach
tuxedos and tails
like a penguin.
the maids had branded
hair and silken
pearls.
no they didn't speak
Spanish or would
think of eating burritos.
caviar's were to their
taste. passing by
with my dog, I
chortled and laughed
then lit a smoke
and spat.
the ocean and the beach
caters to all alike
and is truly
egalitarian.
Dave Gitomer
email: dogentao@villagenet.com
websites:
http://villagenet.com/~dogentao/index.html
http://members.aol.com/freeme123/index.htm
-------------------------------------------------------------------
--------tenors that bellow like deep sea divers
down the sides of ships
into coral reefs
occupied by fish and mammal
bright in nature around us and virgin
careful of this timeline
precious rare in modern worlds
when we poison ourselves
and kill reality with it
no thing is spared in our efforts
to despoil and harass all that is natural
-we build our worlds
whether we like it or not
Scott C. Dragoo
------------------------------
Rain
whispers of solitude
slipping from the heavens
falling in sheets onto cold stone
smooth and glassy
a mirror on the sidewalk
and in it
me
staring into a troubled sea
silently watching the storm
as it trickles down into nothingness
and slips away
Hilary Kerner
------------------------------
BEDTIME STORY
Since I have no stories for y'all, I'll share a dream I just had, and I swear this is how it went.
Two buddies and I are on our way back from a road trip, and we need a place to stop for the night. Unfortunately, we have just passed the last exit. Well, they're already asleep in the back, so I keep driving till I come upon a little farming town. I drive till I find a house with no lights on, and park there for the night. I'm just about to settle down to sleep when i look in the window of the neighbors and see a beautiful black girl and her ugly date taking pictures before their prom. This gladdens me. Since It's a beautiful night, I get out of the car and climb a short but very wide tree to sleep. I wake after the entire neighbor's family has joined me. They don't know I'm there yet, but they're all very drunk and start conversing about various things. I guess I was feeling frisky, because I said something when it was the grandmother's turn to speak, and a ruckus broke out. The grandmother goes "I didn't say that!" and everyone says "gramma, it's not you!" then she goes, "and that boy's white!" "gramma, that's not you." I jump out of the dead tree and run to the car with the father and several uncles in hot pursuit. I get in, close the door, start it and peel out backwards nearly into my pursuers and I'm off on the road again.
Daev
RANTING
smell ME
by: cait collins
foreplay:
holiday alert!!!
I have survived my trip across country and now I'll spread me all over L.A., just in time for X X X mas! so be prepared. I am I think I think I am I think.
"you wear yer words well:
like brown splattered stains
in yer underthings:
they ain't worth shit -
- my love."
all right, consider 'Christmas' mentioned since it's 'that time of the year'…in other words: merry, merry, happy, happy jingle this, jingle allthat and fa~la~la~yea, ok, here's what I have this time:
12.2.98, 12:45 p.m. - moving west from the east; half my life already shipped to L.A. from NJ; half of the other half jam-packed in the back of my van, plus 2 small Terriers aka: Buddy and Cleopatra and the other half I plain forgot, wouldn't fit , I simply didn't want, else it would be banned along the way. (I took my chances with, uh, ganja.) ok, I'll eliminate the boring driving part, 'cept fer some spots:
so, some hours later, mid-way along the Pa pike, I stop at the first rest area and walk the dogs. they piss and shit out in a back field, get back in the van and I go inside only to stand in line in the ladies room which was quite packed. christ, I wiggled and held my crotch. I had to go bad. then it started stinking in there. someone took a friggin' wicked shit. it didn't seem to come from the stall area though. I look down along with about a half dozen other people and god, it's on the bottom of my right sneaker; squeezing out from the sides; yellowy, squishy dog shit. not my dogs' shit. I stepped in someone else's big dogs' shit. geeeeezus! I go over to the sink and wash my hands after I took a piss, dogshit still on the sole. I took it off, held it upside down under hot running water and the it wasn't breaking free. christ, it's only making it stink more. so I dropped it in the sink and left the water running on the sole part. it was caked in the designer and wouldn't move. I went to the paper towel dispenser, pulled a long brown sheet from there and rolled it around and around 'til it looked like a brown stick, then back to the stinking shoe. people are giving me 'looks' and I hear little coughs. so I say: 'like no one ever stepped in dogshit before, right? I'll bet it's one of yer dogs' shit.' hahaa, the bathroom starts to vacate, the stench lingers and builds and I scrape the shit out from the cracks with the rolled brown paper towel and scrape and scrape. dogshit falling off, clogging the sink. was ready to barf. finally, it's off and put my Nike 'air' back on my foot; wet but clean.
next rest area; 7p.m…the dogs done with theirs. I go inside, get a large coffee, call my friend in Ohio, let him know I'll arrive about the time he's through work. 5 hours more and I'll be in Cinci !!! one great night there!!! yyaaay!!! fun!!!! sex!!! allthat!!!…as I drive along a curve back onto the pike….the god damned coffee spilled all over me! the fucker's burning, like hot lava flowing down from the bottom of my tits to my lap, between my legs, completely saturating my ass down to my knees then onto the leather seat, puddled there…I lift off the seat, almost standing, driving, burning ass, legs, tummy, crotch, almost everything! I'm burnt! how the fuck can I fuck tonight? christ, it's been a long time, I needed it. my cunt and ass were burning like Satan's domain! that's all I thought about…tonight. I pull over to the side of the road, jump out, cooled me off and sucked from the seat with the dog's blanket. I drove to the next exit, parked at a gas station and searched endlessly in the back of the van for a change of clothes…fuck…I fergot all my god damned clothes. so, I drove the rest of the way into Cinci, wet, smelling like Maxwell Houses' warehouse!
I arrived before he was through work and I shot into the Walmart store just off the exit, bought some clothes for the next day and checked into a small motel for one night, that allowed dogs…
I sat on the bed, sideways,
legs underneath
near the edge
I prepped the bowl, hit, hold
and I blew small smoke circles
or tried to loop them toward
the opened window;
the midnight moon and a breeze
barely moved the faded curtains aside
they (the smoke rings) twisted back,
disappeared within a flicker
from an outside light.
and this white tailed-shirt undone
…halfway
water noises seeped through the
wallpaper…
and he doesn't bed with me
at first. instead he sits face
to face in a wooden chair
along the side
and he talks of last year
and his writing and my stuff
and moving my way west next month
and we share hits back and
forth and he hand feeds me
cheese and crackers and a finger
after sliding it along my cheek
and I sucked on it
once it reached my mouth
and he remembered my wine coolers
and his beer
and looked down my shirt
and he pulls his wet hair back into a tail
to the waist
and I thought to myself
I used to do that
then he talks of
getting it cut and I say no
and his swollen cock lay there
on the seat of the wooden chair
above his balls
waiting for a mouth, a cunt,
something …
and I fall back and start rubbing me
he never finished about the hair bit…
but he said something as he moved
closer to the edge of the bed
never leaving the chair
and he pulled my legs out wide
and went down and did
everything oral there
then everywhere
and he climbed on top
of the bed and I did the same to him
while his hands and tongue roamed
all over and touched all the magic spots
then when it came to our mouths
we spent time there
then slept
and it was better this time
in this cheap motel room than
all that time
last year in a basement
on the other side of Cinci
and he didn't have
to talk me into
**one more night**
I left ohio, drove west putting some miles and memories behind me. and doncha know…Texas, land of shit and lights & sirens...I was pulled over…christ, I had 'stuff' with me, had to think of something quick. so I took my squeegee bottle of water and poured it down the front of me and I'm stopped and asked for paperwork.
the officer says, "ma'am, do you know you were exceeding 80 mph...?"
"Well, you know, I heard a lot about those radar things being rigged or broken or whatnot but I have to say that I think yrs is more than generous…" I said and I went on: "but this time I have reasons! now I'm sure you've heard them all but…"and I pointed to the front of me.
"you see this wet shirt…? and you see my little doggie over there, Cleopatra, on the passenger side...? well, she got nervous and pissed on me. evidently she had to go and I didn't stop in time. and I'm tired of stinkin' like dog piss, so I was hurrying to the next rest area and I had to go too and now…(and I start wigglin in my seat...) …I think you've made me nervous. it's been three days since I left Jersey and haven't taken a shit yet and soon it's gonna be a pretty god-awful sight in here with me sitting in dog stench, shit and vomit at the same time..." I coughed a little while the cop tilted his hat and looked at me then at my license again and it was like hell trying to keep a straight face but I did and he handed back my paperwork and said, "well, consider this a warning. the rest area 's up the road a couple of miles, ma'am."
I thanked him and left…then I LAUGHED!!!
I made it to L.A. early Sunday a.m (12.6.98)…and I'm recouping.
I'll merry, merry and allthat next time…night dAev. /cait
FROM THE DESK OF DAVE
Well, I'd like to tell you all that my birthday is coming up on December 20. The 18th year of my existence on this dirtball. I expect to be getting something from the draft board soon. I'll be able to buy tobacco legally. I can frequent strip clubs. And I can vote. What a great combination, and what a paradox that I can choose the commander-in-chief who'll send me to war, but i can't get a drink to forget about it.
Daev
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