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|| -------- -- ----- A E R I E O B L I V I A N A . singular book of text wandertainment by Frank Edward Nora ------------------- ----------- OSOAWEEK--ISSUE 018--11/24/94 <------- || OsoaWeek || Issues || Book 2 || -------> (Cup OWis018, Created v1 (4/27/99), Copyright 1999) = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = [[BEGIN018OW]] [[01018CV]] * * * O S O A W E E K 0 1 8 * * * November 24, 1994 "The weekly ezine of Obliviana Super Occult Amusement!" by Frank Edward Nora INSIDE THIS ISSUE! The Trouble with Lentils Moonies at Taco Bell! Virtual Reality Complaints Bad Pistachios Afternoon Winterswimmer "When the day wend have tinconclude." The Messed-Up Mind of the Lord of Obliviana, Circa 1986 "I am a monster my own size." Newsflash--Russia Destroyed by Sentient Snow Pizzas! Reality Pickup Truck: Tom Neadows Faery Lady Billie Perfect Fovy C'mon! You gotta read this thing! (Permission is granted to make complete, verbatim, digital ASCII copies of this copyrighted ezine for the purpose of free distribution. All other forms of reproduction require written permission from Frank Edward Nora.) OsoaWeek is published weekly by Obliviana Super Occult Amusement * copyright 1994 Frank Edward Nora * originating in New Jersey, USA * Contact: 1-800 OBLIVIANA/obliviana@aol.com/call postal: Osoa P.O. Box 60 Iselin, NJ 08830-0060 Character count: 54841 / Line count: 1390 Catalog of Obliviana & The Table of Contents are at the very end of this file. *OW* [[02018HR]] Hemisinister Review ***GRAB BAG*** LENTILS Jeez! What gives? I bought a bag of lentils and tried to make them, only to encounter a series of horrible difficulties. First of all, it says to lay all the lentils out and examine them for any foreign materials. I mean--out of these thousands of lentils, what the heck am I gonna find? Lord only knows. So then I started cooking them, and like this mud started forming, and it was really gross. Like the whole thing was full of mud. Then I finished cooking them and rinsed them off, to try and get all the mud off them. I only ate a little bit before getting thoroughly disgusted with the whole mess. I dunno--maybe I'm just terribly inexperienced in the realm of lentils, but this food items seems to be a real drag. MOONIES AT TACO BELL You know, you think you can just go down to Taco Bell, get a few bean burritos without cheese, and just get out of there. But no! This Moonie chick from Australia starts trying to sell me silver laser-etched pictures for $12 each. I start talking to her and find out that one of her fellow Moonies had a vision about going to Perth Amboy. I told her that while I didn't think the Moonie theology was anything special, it did seem cool to be wandering around New Jersey, going to Taco Bell and trying to sell crap. I told her I thought it seemed like fun, which she agreed with. But she kept trying to sell me this crap, and her spaced-out Japanese cohort was hovering around, and she looked so wasted, as a human being. HURRICANE GORDON This looniest of storms weaved a historically silly path of devastation, giving meteorologists nationwide hard-ons. GET READY FOR THIS I first heard this awesome techno song at Walt Disney World's Pleasure Island, and I really liked it, but didn't know what it was. So I guess I just sort of tucked it into the back of my mind, until I heard it at a wedding I recently attending. I asked the f*cking loser DJ what it was, and he told me it was "Get Ready for This" by 2 Unlimited. So I got a tape of it the next day and listened to it about 20 times in a row on my Walkman. I know techno generally sucks, but this song is a winner. Get it--you won't be disappointed! WORLD FINANCIAL CENTER BOOKSTORE GUY Here's a classic assh*le line, spoken by a clerk at a bookstore at the WFC. I asked him if they had "The B Book", a storybook with cool collage-like photos in it I had seen at another book store and also read about. Here's what he said... "That may be more a Soho kind of book than a World Financial Center sort of book." What a dickhead! *OW* [[03018ZP]] Zope Today's Episode: VIRTUAL REALITY COMPLAINING ZOPE ZOPE Okay Fombat, come on--let's go. FOMBAT (in a Virtuality pod with HMD on) Aw no Zope! I gotta play one more game of Dactyl Nightmare! I just gotta! I think I'm really getting the hang of it! ZOPE You've had years to get the fricken hang of Dactyl Nightmare--it's the only game any of these lame-ass places ever has! I mean, what the hell? Imagine if all arcades only had "Knights of the Round" or something--and no other machines--ever! That's what this stupid Virtuality sh*t is like. FOMBAT Oh Zope! You know they used to have that sit-down Battletech kind of ride here! That was different. ZOPE That game sucked and it was here for about two weeks before they pulled it! VIRTUAL REALITY CLERK Um sir--you're going to have to step down from the platform unless you give me another boarding pass. FOMBAT reaches into his pocket, looking for a boarding pass. ZOPE (grabbing the CLERK by his collar) I'm tired of you people! Goddammit! It's a ticket, not a "boarding pass"! Get over it! It's just a video game! It's not anything special! CLERK (choking) Sir! Sir! I'll sue you if you don't put me down! ZOPE pushes the CLERK away, but instantly produces a grenade launcher and points it at the CLERK's head. ZOPE (pulling the trigger) Okay I'll see you in court! The CLERK is blown apart real good. FOMBAT What just happened? I can't see? ZOPE Don't worry, pal. It's part of your virtual reality experience! *OW* [[04018HT]] Halfevil Times HALFEVIL TIMES PERCEPTIONS & PONDERINGS EVER WONDER... ...why everyone acts like all these African tribes are so great, when all they do is go around eating roasted monkeys, sticking crap in their lips, and wearing lame hand-me-down American T-shirts? EVER NOTICE... ...how horrible it is when you get one of those pistachios with only a tiny slit of an opening, and how you kill your fingernails trying to get the f*cker open? *OW* [[05018LA]] Lord of Obliviana Alright! Big number 18 comin' at ya! Frank Edward Nora with ya here, Lord of Obliviana as always. Whattaya say folks! Come on! Alright! Okay, enough fun. I'm here today to give you some inside information on the ever-accelerating emergence of the coolest thing between here and the 22nd Century--and that is, of course, Obliviana Super Occult Amusement! Now for some reason, people oftentimes have a problem figuring out just what exactly Obliviana Super Occult Amusement IS. And indeed, I've had the same trouble myself at times. But whenever such confusion strikes you, always remember to LOOK AT THE NAME. Yeah, Osoa is a complex thing, but its name basically tells it all--Obliviana Super Occult Amusement. See? Anyway, I'm here you know, 1:30 am, after Thanksgiving, just hanging out, trying to get this issue finished so I don't have to friggin worry about it over the weekend. Eh, I'm getting there. A lotta cool stuff in this issue. I getting really tired though. I don't know if I can go on. Should I even try? I dunno. Yeah, there's no way I'm gonna finish this right now. I', losing it. I'm losing consciousness. So what the hell. I think I can finish this baby up in about an hour--I can probably find a spare one of those tomorrow. So bear with me people, it's happening. It's happening. Okay. Here I am in the morning time, getting this sucker going. Let me roam around a little, to flesh out a few things! So it's just about done. I'll finalize it and then upload it so that YOU, yes YOU, cherished reader, can download it! Get OsoaWeek018, and also, like, Get All Obliviana! *OW* [[06018NH]] Nihilistica ***AFTERNOON*** Are you ready for a cool new game you play on your word processor? Yeah! Well then get ready for "Afternoon", coming soon to the pages of OsoaWeek. It's a game you navigate through using the find function that most all word processors have. So this is a game which will work on any kind of computer system which has a text-search feature. Cool, eh? It may even incorporate that great "quick brown fox" alternative--"Pack my box with five dozen liquor jugs!" *OW* [[07018SU]] Superior SUPERIOR 121 Drave is the with all the tools for it. We stood after a defeat on the morning after by the road and it dawned on us. There was no good in the slaughter. The five dancing sisters, glowing in their youthful perfections, so happy, so proud. They're still okay. A cardinal lands and grows to immense proportions. Of all its red feathers one is redder than them all. "Take it", it says. So I do. Now I have a big red feather, but so what? My life is still destroyed. SUPERIOR 122 Bank across the street, swimming in afternoon's desire. Snowflake melting as I remember, remember her back at the hotel. Warm and warm, and good. Please I go back soon. But who is the other? In the bank, who is the girl in the bank who I know, who is mad, and in the bank? I hear on the radio of the snow today. I think of driving tonight--tired, shaken, nervous--mine lover waits for me. This friend on line. I seethe frustration into passerbys. Throw myself slam back into seat. I wish I had a bottle of spring water, water for to pour over my face, my head. The streetlight's on, and courting snowfalling. Green retina stings, blooms of summers lazy days drift, mind of aware. I my eyes close and say "Christ, come on." Winterswimmer. SUPERIOR 123 When the day wend have tinconclude. The Nonagonhood In Nothing. See-see blabe. Rid the space nixt newer and older! Of 1971 A.D.! Tender gone? Hai! Holo memp! I'm nothing New--Old the next tomorro Dount laugh ha! Best silly teeshir--10the#. She's it! Storm! Stormha! Om splamakshapsh. Tooly! Blem sporrow rock splanman. Seel. Dendy for nextnoon, pal. Answer; b over bover. Tenderblender. What! The Best! So! Asick; Boy a dame... Lost my damnshee Now! Bad: Here's a one o'great! Who's? You. Now! Soh! This is the one--Well--vaternopt--Gallium arsenide yeap snow. No more Bell tonite yousee! Itring! Sonic! Seem whos! Monstee... Oh! Tam! Bemdy Last here ogo! She is the me OK. And all of it's entirely true? From 3 am to three years hence! Or as much sense as! SUPERIOR 124 Precious seconds tock thru the door. Waiting into out to. When I arrive, meld a moldy teabrew. Never de-hark my crossbow intentions, pal. Never do it when I'm around, pal. I'm everything in the world not seen. Torpors of young gals, ashame no life in store for those, too bad. Can you craft a thousand knots in the shape of me? Or a hundred gloves? That would be nice. I am your friend and your lover I think. We're both so weak we'll be squashed wunna these days. Demolished in our tracks. I want more from this experience. I want the escape always, but of course I will learn, I will better myself. In any case open the case and remove the globes. When we make love with each other, we'll make love with the globes too. Why? *OW* [[08018DH]] Dehumidifier This week in Dehumidifier, I'm going to present a piece called "The Story", which I write during the Fall of 1986, mostly in September. I was 19 years old and a sophomore at Drew University in Madison, NJ. I am a bit hesitant to present this work, mainly because of the high "cringe" factor of some stuff in it. I mean, lyrics from Talking Heads, ultraliberal views, lame pomposity, and the like are a bit embarrassing--but I feel the piece as a whole has merit, and gives you an idea of how f*cked-up I was back then. I did publish "The Story" in January of 1987 as an 8-page minicomic, but maybe a hundred copies were printed, and only a handful of people ever saw it. Now, hopefully, more people will see it, for what it's worth. So get ready to step back into the dark and dangerous realm of the mid-1980's! ***THE STORY*** I'm sitting in class about to take an exam. This story will be very long. I only perceive surface details these days. I have my own alphabet. Maybe I'll add to this story from time to time. I took the exam. I didn't do so well. I'm in the same chair. As well as the same room. But a different class. Something about cities. I can't really think now. Something in my head. What is it? My brain. Always the same but never the same. It may stop but it never ends. Where are we? Now imagine a cube floating in space. You are there. What do you see? This ain't no party. This ain't no disco. This ain't no fooling around. The central city. Rain and October. A silver man gleaming down the street. Realization in a young black boy's mind. The Avatar returned. I like to play pinball. I would like to play pinball. I imagine them playing pinball in the hippie days. I imagine the feeling, the smells, the rush in the blood. It's like a star, shining out of reach. The story. This is the story. Stroboscope. One time it was really weird. Monsters were the problem and napalm was the solution. I had a front row seat. And who was sitting next to me? The mayor. His head slowly lingering, then disappearing. Red and green fireworks, then. A game over. And and and I went to the ocean. We found a dead baby hammerhead shark on the beach. Did we put it in the trunk? I don't remember. I was young and I didn't realize the certain realities surrounding the decay of dead bodies and the odors and maggots thereof. Blue water. The Chrysler Building was the focal point in my dream. It was flying around like a spaceship and Uncle Charlie was using it to rule the world with an iron fist. There was no beginning or end or middle, just a series of images and understandings with no resolutions. Do you get my meaning? This is not a normal story. It doesn't tell you all the facts. Facts burn. You have to draw your own conclusions. You have to draw your own resolutions. The ballad of my three sons. A kind of wailing in the night. Erno Rubik's self-referential pajamas. Where is he now? Prove his existence, if you can. For services rendered, eh? Hair that never ends. The Cosmic Welder on his Grand Tour. The Microverse in your thumbnail. The lava lamp on the big shelf. You know? It kind of reminds me of that special feeling of going to shopping malls in the early 1980's. In the pit of my stomach, feels all strange. And riding back home in the car. Eyes closed as the highway hums beneath my feet. The streetlights rhythmically casting a red glow on my eyelids, all the way home. Whenever I sit here in the library I never get any work done. This is because it's so quiet and peaceful that I must listen to the sound of my mind. Blasting music drowns out my thought, allowing me to do the ethereally useless work they call scholarly. But it's the system, and this is the story. The story. The photocopy machine, what if the photocopy machine could copy whole books? How would this then affect trade with Far Eastern countries and in turn affect their religious beliefs? I don't know, but I do know that that that is is and that that that is not is not. Well? This could be a long story. Where are you now? Different styles for different moods. Something about a city. A cube in space with pinball noises in the background. A child building London Bridge with wooden blocks. A new movie: The Chrysler Building versus London Bridge. Rated PG-13. Some material may not be suited for children under thirteen. I am not under thirteen. The big wheel goes round and round. I made the big date but forgot all about it. Now she doesn't even look at me any more, let alone in the real world. How can we fix this big mistake? Its nature is too nebulous to place your finger on. Its mind is that of a newborn. It is a problem that is age-old. My idle thoughts wreak havoc in some other place. What can I do to make it up? Learn my lesson, yes. But have I? Will I not do it again and hurt again? Action. The nexus between two worlds... I still don't truly believe, do I? And in my ignorance I have hurt one I truly love. Can I ever undo this? Even, what have I done? I have only the slightest idea. I am watching myself walking up the stairs to go eat. And I feel bitter at my own self-satisfaction. The problem is that I am not sure. I don't know what I've done. I don't know what I want. This story sounds different as I feel different. Maybe it will be a long story. Maybe it will. I should make photocopies now. And return the book (act one read). In a different seat, the library stacks look like a runway. I'll take off to who-knows-where, Mr. Smartie. Maybe I'll play pinball later. All the vision in my mind. You cannot forget it once you've seen it. You cannot release it once you've felt it. My name is the name of all good men. It vibrates in the bells of the world and washes souls with its terrible brilliance. If you could see. If I could accept. If we could go. Something has been changed. They both serve the same purpose, but as the old one was a false energetic structure, the new one is the true one. I can't concentrate with the TV on. Damn. Release the waste. Get rid of it. This new thing, I don't know. I hope it will work. Maybe it can help heal the wounds inflicted by the Big Mistake. Maybe the answer is in the story. Maybe the answer is not in the story. Maybe the story is the story. Maybe I'll go to New York tomorrow. Maybe I'll see the Chrysler Building. All these maybes. With the new thing, maybe I can make them wills. Perhaps. The new thing is growing stronger all the time. Yes it is. A chaotic storm flies around. A baby doll on a red velvet cushion on grainy film. A tornado in space. The baby doll flies apart and blood comes out. You pan back and realize you are watching TV, but a tear in your eye. I am a monster my own size. Ay Ay Ay. So many things. The second stage is rough. And the coming new moon doesn't help. On my birthday, no less. In my dream, Russia was being destroyed by sentient snow pizzas. It's a one way ticket to midnight, call it Heavy Metal, desperation on a thin line, call it Heavy Metal noise. Please please tell me now, is there something I should know? Who could it be now? Oh! It's not only a new moon, but a solar eclipse. I mean, what will happen in New York? Why all this stuff about the Chrysler Building? Heh? I like her, she likes him, he likes the other. I am not aware of anyone liking me (in that way). Maybe things will change. The big mistake is least in my mind. Something has to break somewhere. In my mind, I see three things. A cat, a rat, an ornamental chandelier. They jump around, with heavy industrial noise in the background and with the assurance of nuclear war in three-and-a-half weeks. My dream, miniscule spiders would evolve past human level in one day. They grew larger and more complex as I watched them and backed away, closing the door and two got out but they died for some reason. Later I found out it was a joke? This is the story. A tale of many things. I just thought about paragraphs. We can make the story. This is in a notebook now. This is on page seven now. Different parts have different voices; different moods. I am sitting in the same place where I began my story. A bug was just crawling on my arm. A story for what it does. I do plan to release the story. For art must be seen by others to be true. But is it art? I'm talking about the story but even this sentence is part of the story. I have my own language. The teacher is talking. I feel I should tell a tale. A story. A story within a story. The main character is me. I'm sitting in a classroom and a teacher just started talking about poetry. I am writing something, but I stop and look out the window. There is a tree branch out there. But it doesn't look quite right and it gets closer and closer and closer closer. I am making certain details out. An overall bluish scheme makes itself apparent as it attacks me and wraps me. For a moment I look around the classroom calmly as if I'm underwater. Then like an explosion. A musical descent. So far this story is progressing like your average earthman gets whisked off to another world and has whacky adventures. But it is a way of dealing with environment instead of character; fleshing out a world more than a person. Like Edgar Rice Burroughs, for all I know. A Chinese newspaper. A kewpie doll. A pachinko machine. A neon sign. I'm sitting in a chair, a big, soft, chair. Old radio broadcast on the air. A green bottle with brownish liquid within in my hand. Coke? I don't move. I think about girls. How abstract. The place is full of weird sh*t. I have an idea where I am. I peer into the ethereal world with my mental vision and see a world gone astray. My heart is beating very fast. I know where I am. It's all returning to me now. Memories and skills I don't even want. A million thoughts fire in my skull. It's so obvious. I've been here before. Then I sense a presence behind me. It's a girl, I knew, 'cause I caught a glimpse of her in the reflection cast by glass over clock. She advances slowly. I'm tired. Realistic energies I draw forth from my soul. She makes a surprised noise and I turn around. Blond hair, perfect, how boring. Travellers can have any body they want. They can have anything they want. That's why I took a plunge. That life was advancing well. I would soon go back and erase all memory of this. She was asking me something. She needed something. I got up and left. I wasn't getting involved. I was past due for a visit to my old town anyway, so I left, for a wander. From time to time I regain my true self, then return to my plungelife later and erase memories. So, I remember everything in my true life, but only plungelife in plungelife. I am tired. I walk out on the street. You know, there are certain things that vibrate dimensionally. I walk through the streets. To be continued. Let's play safe. Play it safe. The sun darkens and we're there. I see it now. I can see it now. The new moon covers the star Sol. The moon is always new during solar eclipse. Hair from my head fell on this paper after I covered my eyes with my hair. I lost a tiny piece of myself. Might I lose something on my birthday? I can think of a few things I might like to lose. Heh. Just in the last paragraph I wrote "I can think of a few things I might to use" but had to correct it. A story. This is my story. Not a story about me, but by me. Yup! So, because of anomie in personality and dog eat dog competition, modern man seeks alternatives to the troubled complexities of modern urban life. Spontaneous human combustion. Legend? Myth? Viscous lie? Find out tonight on That's Real Incredible Search! I think the situation is changing. I like... Things are happening very fast. A story in its own right. My life is like a TV show, only longer. I see many things happening. I don't worry about anything. Worry is useless. Just do it. Or accept it. This is not the easiest philosophy to deal with, since worry is such a part of the human experience. Now in class they are talking about sex. But I'm not paying attention. I'm writing this. Industrialized automatons? I have had so much experience. More than most people in my nearly nineteen years. Tomorrow is my birthday, lunar equinox, solar eclipse, new moon, trip to New York City at Night. Will I return? Magic. Factotum: A non-entity at someone's beck and call. What will we do about her? I like her... Me, I'm a one. I'm a nomad. I realize what a limited world we live in, and I separate myself from pretext. Trying to view it from the outside. My positivity increasing at a steady rate. This means I'm happy. But the pulling up of mankind from the guck is my ultimate goal in this life. A good question is: What do you want? I'm thinking of a few things now. A girl, a movie, an obscure future, the realization that Nomadi is very hard work but is undeniably worth it. A few things on my mind, but behind it all is Nomadi. The one force that is the purpose of my life. It is no joke, but it is the ultimate joke. We have much, much to do. First, there was just a feeling walking along. A sort of jolly yet terrible and shambling vision, breaking down, each second seeming its last, but only to continue, worse ever. Second we see a star. This star is neon and atop a Christmas-tree-like silvery statue. Obviously meant to be a Christmas tree, but not a tree, but good, 'cause no trees had to die for some pathetic little pagan ritual. F*ck off, assh*le. Now it is after the fact. On my birthday I blew up. My feeling for the she created so much pressure that my shelter exploded. It all led up to that. Now I feel better, but I'm still struggling. The struggling never ends. It may stop, but it never ends. Now I am somewhere else. The movie is finished, but split Anything But Monday, so I will pick it up and mend it. I don't know. This is true. I have really no idea what's going on. I have opened the blinds. I realize how truly ignorant I am. I also realize that this realization comes at a high level of awareness. Many people who think/know that they are stupid use it as a defense and are even more closed off. Intelligence is awareness. Things just are? My awareness may be greater than that of others, but limited in the wide sense. But this just means I have that much more space to expand in. I am an eternal child. The biggest mistake is to grow up. Now me and the she are friends, special friends. She may be my Empress, or at least an Empress. She can be my Empress, completing the cycle, fitting the last piece into a puzzle, but that puzzle is just a piece in a much larger puzzle. Love is something... I don't know exactly what. My mind is in a bit of a blur. The danger of being content lies somewhere. A new one. We seceded from the nation. There is a new one in my mind. Last night we seceded then went to the supermarket at 3:30 AM. A new one, the old one in stable relation to me, the new one on the horizon; a challenge. A semi-Empresstype. Talk normal. Let's talk normal. I see many things. I am moving. There are things beyond my understanding. Many things. Most things. Four forty-nine? I am I am here. Here, dear. Now, I am writing this paragraph many weeks after the last one. I must fear to say that I have been neglecting the Story. But it's only page twelve, and this could be a long Story. I think just now I only read this page, so I'm not quite sure what I "just" wrote. But this doesn't matter. The Story, however, seems to have become a little like a diary. But it doesn't matter, because the Story is in different styles for different moods. I have many things to tell about what has happened, but I don't want to make this like a diary. Let's talk about gods. Great Ones. Beings of great power. Powerful beings, but not God. Personal beings, on roughly the same level as others of their race. Gods, who would leech off mankind. I feel like doing origami. *OW* [[09018SR]] Severe Repair SEVERE REPAIR 18: "Reality Pickup Truck: Tom Neadows" A few days ago I was lounging around my dorm room at college and wasting time, as usual. The obscure music I was listening to got me thinking about stupid things and made me fall into a very weird state of mind. But then restlessness got the best of me and I left. I was halfway down the hall before I realized that I'd forgotten my coat. Walking back to my room, I felt momentarily lightheaded--and some people were yelling in the room next to mine--but I ignored them as I got my coat. Seconds later, as I was ambling down the stairs, I traced arcane symbols on the wall with my left ring finger. I wondered vaguely as to why I was doing this, and the next several steps were a whizzing blur as I blammed out into the stinging chill of the night. Distant music booming from windows stirred tribal feelings deep within my breast as I stepped upon the lawn and set my way towards the student center. The freezing air felt good on my face, exciting in my lungs. I pretended that I was a vast king, and that the college was my kingdom. I saw some girls over on the walkway and they were my concubines. I came upon the pavement then. The old violin then came to mind as I headed down the road. It was in my attic at home, and I thought about how I could play it at a virtuoso level of expertise, even though I had never taken a lesson in my life. No one else knew, and I feared revealing my talent to anyone, dreading being referred to as an idiot savant, or other such oddity. I was just born with the ability, I suppose, whatever sense that makes. Well, as I continued on, I saw a goldenrod-colored flyer on a telephone pole up the street a ways, and even though I couldn't read it from that distance, it brought to mind when I had seen it the day before, and I recalled what this flyer had said: "Open Microphone Talent Competition! All welcome. At the Farthuat Hall 'Basement Cabaret'! 9:30 pm, Tuesday the 8th. Be there man!" I looked at my watch and it said 7:19 pm. And I knew it was the 8th. I thought maybe I'd go see it, but then I had an inspiration--that girl from astronomy class would be there--and I could impress her with my violin playing. "Now there's an idea!", I thought. (This damn girl--Barbaza Turn--I only talked to her a few times--but I really think I love her (besides having the hots for her).) So I continued on my merry way, and I quickly calculated how I could get home, get the violin, tune it, and get back in time for the show. Barbaza did mention that she liked classical music. And, I thought, I can play anything at all, as long as I've heard it once. Maybe some Steill, or a Mophei symphony, or perhaps a Viedden overture. The selection that I would play was not a problem. But getting there and back, to my house, was a possible problem. I considered the train, but a little quick figuring revealed that the schedules were against me and that I couldn't get back onto campus until 10:10 pm or so. I guessed that I might have gotten one of my friends to drive me, but I honestly didn't have a clue as to where anyone was, and I wasn't really very clear on who had a car on campus and who didn't. One thing was for sure--I couldn't walk. But... a bicycle? There was a bicycle leaning next to a tree by the sidewalk in front of me. With that bicycle, I could make the violin run with time to spare. But--could I just take it? I looked around, looking for anyone who might have owned the bike, but nobody was in sight. I reasoned, if I took the bike and returned it two hours later, then it couldn't really be considered stealing of any sort; it would just be a kind of "enforced borrowing". In indecision, I just stopped and started moping around the vicinity of the bike, trying to make up my mind, butterflies injected into my stomach. I kept looking around nervously, and I thought of this girl Barbaza. I thought, "Does that name mean 'bearded one'? Maybe she will have sex with me if she likes my violin playing." With my resolve then set, I nonchalantly walked up to the bike, grabbed the handlebars, looked around nervously, stood it up, and started walking it towards the street. Suddenly I heard someone yell "Hey!" from behind me, and I froze in fear for a second, but then I continued walking. The shout must have come from down by the dorms, nowhere near me. I hit the street and walked the bike, trying to look as casual as possible. As I stared at the blunt incandescent focuses of light that were the streetlamps, I fantasized about what would happen if I was caught in this act of theft--maybe being beaten up or killed or something. But then I broke out of this pointless conjecture, got a running start, jumped onto the bike, and was off on a 45 minute journey home. Riding through the streets, it looked like the citizens of this seaport town, Mav Saptax, were out in droves to catch a glimpse of that comet which was supposedly going to come by. I ignored these ignorant average fools and sped my way on towards the highway. Twice I was forced to stop after coming upon a car accident. I wondered what the hell was wrong with these stupid people. Finally I got to the highway, and was a bit surprised when I saw the sign reading "No Bikes, $300 fine". I stopped and looked around incredulously and said "F*ck" as I shook my head. Just standing there for half a minute, I was deciding what to do. But the image of Barbaza's tits pressing against her tight sweater made me say "Well, f*ck goddam $300." And I went onto the highway. The highway was well-lit, and the traffic wasn't very heavy, but not 5 minutes later I ran over some broken glass, and both tires went flat. I skidded to a halt, cursed loudly, and threw the bike into the tall grass by the road. "It's hitchhiking, I guess.", I thought to myself, realizing dumbly that I would probably be killed. I started walking, but then I had I stupid thought "what if they find the bike and take fingerprints?" So, knowing it was moronic, I went back, and wiped off the bike everywhere I had touched it. "F*ck.", I thought as I was performing this stupid act. So I said "what the hell", and started hitchhiking, holding my thumb out, walking backwards. After about a minute of freezing time, a big brown pickup truck went by and honked its horn. I turned to watch it as it passed, and it slowed down and stopped by the side of the road. Immediately I walked towards it, and went up to the passenger door. Immediately I noticed a bizarre picture painted on the door, some sort of a crazy little guy sideways against a checkered background. Looking at it made me dizzy. But then the door opened, and I saw a middle-aged guy, with a cigarette in his hand, and a short hairstyle that hadn't been "in" for fifteen years. "Where ya goin' fella?" he asked me. "Uh, I gotta go to over to Donavan Bends." I said. "Yeah? I'm goin' that way. Get in." "Hey thanks." So I got in. Apparently the truck had no heat, as the guy was in a coat and wearing gloves. "Cold as a witch's tit out there, huh?" "Uh-huh." "Say, whereabout in Donavan's ya goin'?" "Uh, well, home. I mean, Drumlin Road, by the Shop'o'Tagger's." "Yeah? I gotta cut thru that way, so I'll drop ya off home, if ya want." "Sure." He took off his gloves, rubbed his hands together, and put his gloves back on. Then we pulled out, back into traffic. We were going for a couple minutes without saying anything. Then all of a sudden he said, "The name's Benny. Benny Averlaize." "Doug Brine." I said. "Happy to meet ya. So whattaya do, go to school?" "Yeah, I go to Shirt, down the street" "S'a good school?" "They say it is." "Huh." At this point, Benny was doing about 95 mph, and the truck was starting to shake a little. After a few more minutes of silence, Benny started to sing, quietly, under his breath. It was the theme song from a cartoon, Kokle Pest. It went, "Yes a little bug, my pal Kokle, he's so cute. Down in the park, he's making a spectacle spark, of himself again. What a nut, this bug! From far and near, his..." I was ignoring this song, however, as I was having a sexual fantasy about doing a 69 with Barbaza, but I was interrupted as I saw the flashing lights of an cop car behind us. I looked around and said "sh*t!" Benny just kept singing, and started to accelerate. The cop turned his siren on, and Benny just kept singing that stupid song, and continued to go faster and faster. I looked over and he was doing about 115 mph. "Yo, hey man!" I said. But he just smiled, turned his head around, looked at the cop car, then turned back, put out his cigarette in the ashtray, and said "Watch this." With that he pushed the needle up to the end of the speedometer, 120 mph, and must have continued on to about 130 or 140, and the cop was keeping up. The truck's engine thundered and the siren blared and my blood banged against me. I thought to myself, "Now I'll never get to the f*ckin' show tonight, goddammit." But then Benny, with his eyes intently on the road ahead of him, motioned with his thumb for me to look back at the cop. I did, and I saw that the cops were right on our tail. I could only make out the shadows of the officers, though. I thought to myself, "What the hell?", and I wondered if Barbaza would think I was cool if she could see me in this situation. Then a shock. A blam. A terrible screech as Benny braked the truck. And a horrible crashing kerrang as the cop car smashed into the truck, was thrown into the bed, and then over the truck entirely. I swerved my head around to see the police car a flaming wreck flying off the top of the truck and onto the pavement fifty feet ahead. Then all fell very silent. I was momentarily deafened and dumbfounded, but I broke out of it to see Benny taking another cigarette out, lighting it, and glancing at the flaming heap ahead of us with a smile. "Pretty neat, hey Doug?" "How..." I started, stuttering in disbelief, "...how did we--I mean, why didn't--I mean, why..." "This's a pretty sturdy truck." I said nothing but sat there in a state of disbelief while I watched Benny put the truck in gear, start forward, and jam into the blazing wreckage, pushing it onto the shoulder of the road. I felt the heat of the flames on my face. Then Benny backed up a bit, paused to admire his work, and then started down the highway again. I sat there and wished to ask Mr. Averlaize how we managed to stop on a dime and yet not be thrown forward through the window. But I wasn't thinking clearly--I was utterly benumbed by the experience. We kept driving and Benny said nothing, but had a bemused look on his face. He took the exit for Donavan Bends and headed for the vicinity of my house. I had no idea of what to say, since I was so shellshocked, but finally I said "This... y'know, this is some truck." "Yeah." he said. "Bought it from a faggot a couple a years ago. He killed himself and donated all his money to a cat hospital. Now I can go anywhere I want." "Yeah, uh, well...", I started, not really knowing what to say, and also starting to fear for my personal safety. Luckily, however, we came to my street then. "Oh, here's my house.", I said, even though it was a block and a half away (not wanting him to know where I lived). "Yo.", he said, and stopped. I opened the door and was about to get out, but I turned and asked him "Look man, what the hell happened back there?" "Wasted a pig, man." "But..." I started as I got out, "...uh, look man, what about inertia? We should've been thru that windshield, easy. Y'know?" "This is no ordinary pickup truck. It's named Tom Neadows, and it has more'n a few tricks up its sleeve." I had no idea what the hell he was talking about, but I decided to quit while I was alive, and said, "Well, thanks for the ride.... and I won't tell the cops or nothin'.", cringing after I realized what I had just said. "S'no problem, pal. They'll never have a clue. Not a clue." "O...okay." "Have a good one, hey, buddy." "Yeah, you too." With that, I shut the door, and saw the picture of the weird little man, and watched it as Benny Averlaize sped off down the street. "Sh*t." I said aloud on the freezing street. So I walked to my house and went in. My mom was in the kitchen, as well as my little sister. "Oh hi Doug." she said, "You're just in time for some of Gramma's bread soup!" "Oh, um, well..", I started, but then, glancing at the clock on the oven, realized that I had plenty of time to catch an earlier train and easily get back to campus in time for the show. "Okay, I guess so." "What's the matter? You're shaking like a leaf. Did you come in on the train?" "S'cold outside, ma. Yah." "Yes I know, isn't it? ...oh, did you see the comet, honey?" "No." I sat down at the table and took my gloves off. "Aren't you going to take your coat off?" my mom asked me. "Yeah." I said, but I kept it on. My sister looked at me and said, "Poopoohead." I did not respond. The bread soup was served. It was tasty and hot. Soon I was finished, with my coat still on, and I excused myself. Running up the stairs to my room, I took my coat off, turned on some music, and then snuck over to the attic stairs. I turned on the light, walked up, and looked over to the corner where the violin was kept, but right there was Barbaza, the girl from my astronomy class, just bluntly sitting on a chest. I did a double take, but said nothing. "Hi there Doug." she said. I was frozen, and did not move or speak. I stood there for a full minute, just staring at her, motionless as a statue. I felt as if I were going to crack and fall apart. Finally I managed to make a brief, pathetic sound, a tiny grunt. All the while Barbaza just kept staring at me with a calm expression on her face. "I figured I'd be nice and save you the trouble.", she said, tapping the violin case that she was sitting next to. I slumped to the floor and just sat there like a fallen marionette, managing a brief "uhhh". Then Barbaza got up, walked over, sat down, and put her arms around me. She drew me close to her and looked me in the eyes. I was languid; I could not function in this situation. "Look, I'm as surprised as you. Some little faery lady named Billie came into my room a few minutes ago and told me that you loved me and that you were going to play the violin so that I'd become your girlfriend, and that you'd be in the truck with that Benny guy and he'd kill those police and stuff. So she asked me if I wanted her to teleport me to your attic, and I said that I would very much like to, because... because I love you, too. So here I am." "Faery?" I asked. "Yeah, a little faery lady, about yay big." she said as she showed me her fingers about four inches apart. "Named 'Billie'?" "That's what she said." I looked down and shook my head. "What the hell is going on here?" I asked. "Well," Barbaza said, "I know that you want me, and you know that I want you, and Billie will teleport us back to my room on campus, and my roommate is away for the whole weekend." I looked around for a second, thinking, and then said "Let me get my violin." Everything seemed so cut and dried at that moment, like it was the end of a story, a happily ever after. It was a good moment. A fine moment. A moment I'll remember forever. But it's a few days later now, and everything's shot to hell. At this point, I know I'm gonna be transferring to Thatterine College for next semester. My parents had been pressuring me towards it, but now, after everything that's happened, there's no way to avoid it. What have I done? Dear Barbaza. If I had it to do over again... Okay so what happened was, in the attic, I got my violin and this little faery lady Billie appeared in a twinkle, hovering in mid-air, not flapping her gossamer wings at all. "I see you two love birds have come to terms!" Billie said in a shimmering, fragile voice. "Ready to teleport back to school?" "Oh yeah!" Barbaza yelled, and I was afraid my family would hear it. "Um," I said, "I think this whole teleporting thing is great and everything, but I kind of have a family here, and if I just disappeared they'd get worried--and I'd have a lot of explaining to do." Billie paused, then said, "There's a way to spoil the fun." "Well! I'm just thinking of my family. You know--the people I love? Who I grew up with? They do matter, you know!" "Of course they do." Billie said. "So pretend to leave on your way back to school, and we'll meet up with you down the street and teleport from there. Will that work for you, son?" "Um--yeah. That should do it." I said, looking over at Barbaza. "So I guess you'll just teleport outside with Billie?" "Yeah sure." Barbaza said, sounding a little annoyed. "Wouldn't want your family to see me." "Well it's not that way, but--I mean, c'mon! Faery ladies, teleportation, Reality Pickup Trucks, killing cops! I mean, yeah--I want to leave my family out of this. Definitely." "It's no problem!" Barbaza said. "So we'll see you outside!" "Okay!" I said, turning, then I stopped and turned back to Barbaza. "You think you could, y'know, teleport my violin outside with you, so I don't have to explain it to my mom?" Barbaza took the violin, but looked disturbed. "Why are you even bringing it? I assume we're not going to the talent thing." "Well, no." I said, a little concerned. "But I thought, y'know, that I would play you something, y'know, just you and me. I thought you might like it." Barbaza gave me a weird look. "Well, okay I guess. I just didn't think we'd have TIME to play any music, if you know what I mean." With this, Barbaza raised one eyebrow and gave me a not-too-subtle message of sex. "Well," I stumbled, "just bring it anyway. If we don't get to it, fine. I gotta go downstairs--my mom never wants me up here messing stuff up. So okay--see you outside." I started down the stairs, and then I began to pause, not hearing a response from either of the two. But before I had fully stopped, I heard Billie say, "See you outside, son." So I continued on down the attic stairs, a feeling of alarm raging through my soul. Something was wrong. I could feel it. I mean, I know all this supernatural stuff is bizarre and everything--but I believe in it--I mean, I didn't think it was a trick or anything that someone was playing on me. But I didn't trust what Barbaza had said. It just seemed too easy. And as I was gonna find out, it was. So I went to my room, got a few books and toys, and threw them in a canvas bag--I had to make it seem like I came home for a reason. Then I went downstairs, but my family was watching TV in another room. "I'm leaving!" I said. "So soon?" I heard my mother say. "I thought you'd stay for 'The Hence Factor'" I hated that show. "No mom, I really have to get back to school. I just had to get a few things. Love ya." "Bye bye" my mom said. "Bye." I said, as I opened the door, and felt much fear as I steeped into the frigid outside. I looked around, plans racing through my mind. What if it was all legit? I wouldn't want to pass up the opportunity. SEX, man! With BARBAZA! I mean, c'mon. But on the other hand, couldn't this be some sort of test? Like, testing to see if all I cared about was sex or something? But what could it mean--that I should refuse to teleport with Barbaza and Billie? And was it even a voluntary thing? Anyway, as I approached the street, I saw Barbaza and Billie twinkle into existence a good ways up. Barbaza was waving at me like some kind of ghost, and in that instant, I lost it and began to panic. Where could I turn? I didn't want to get my family involved in this crap. There was no way I was gonna go with them, but what could I do? Man, was I f*cked. But in that instant, I thought of something, just an impression, and impression that Benny Averlaize could help me. Something about him made me trust him. But how could I get him to help me? I looked wildly up and down the street, trying to see if Benny had parked anywhere nearby. And of course, he hadn't. Why should he? Barbaza stopped waving and looked confused, as far as I could tell from the distance. I knew I had to do something. So I thought about the Reality Pickup Truck, and softly spoke its name--"Tom Neadows." Immediately, the sound of screeching tires came to my ears, as the Reality Pickup Truck turned the corner down the street, swerving wildly toward me--in reverse. When I jerked my head back the other way, I saw Barbaza and Billie teleporting away. Then I turned back and watched as the truck came under control a little and stopped beside me. Benny Averlaize stared down at me from his frosty window, a dull expression of concentration on his face. I looked up and him and did nothing. For a moment, I was concerned that the guy was even alive anymore or something. But then he looked away, rolled down the window, and looked at me as he took a drag on a newly-lit cigarette. "Yeah you got a problem." he said. "Okay? Get in." I just kind of nodded, went quickly around the front of the truck to the other side and got in, slamming the door shut with a clang in the silent night. Benny put the truck in gear and began driving. "They were on an Otherway but I thought nothing of it." Benny said, looking straight ahead at the road. I was silent. "Now I wonder who the f*ck you are that they'd do you." he said, looking over at me. I was worried over his words, but a smile on his face made it seem like his words were meant as a joke or something. "Um." I said. That's all I said. I could say nothing beyond "Um." "Hypergods, man." Benny said, accelerating onto the highway. "Nasty suckers." I looked ahead, wondering if we'd pass the wreckage of the police car, and also wondering what the hell Benny was talking about. "But with our friend Tom Neadows here," he said, patting the dashboard, "we can take care of 'em." Then that strange guy looked over at me, a kind of wild look in his eyes, and said "You know?" "Yeah." I said. But I didn't know. I didn't know about any of it. This was serious. I had often tried to do occult stuff, but it never amounted to much. Now, all this crap was happening. I felt light-headed again, like I was drifting away. Just think--the only thing between me and a terrible fate at the hands of these "Hypergods" was a magical pickup truck. Yeah, I was concerned with all this, but at some level, I was more concerned with the fact that I was just about to have sex with Barbaza Turn, and was denied it by the situation. That was really bugging me. I wanted sex. Sex, sex, sex. "Hang on fella," Benny said, "you're in for the ride of your freakin' life!" *OW* [[10018CO]] Catalog of Obliviana These days, when you buy a book, magazine, CD, or videotape, you get an artifact which acts as the medium for the information contained within. But as the Digital Superworld develops, more and more of the infostimulation you buy will be pure data--with no physical side, no artifact. In fact, OsoaWeek is such a formless thing--it's pure data. With this in mind, we here at Obliviana Super Occult Amusement feel that artifacts will begin to take on more meaning. And because of this, we have developed a system by which all of the Obliviana Artifacts we release have definite identity--with limited production, each item is numbered, stamped, and personally signed by its creator. The following list contains all the currently available Obliviana Artifacts. To order, send check or money order made out to Frank Edward Nora, or cash (at your own risk), to the address in the Masthead. All prices include postage and handling. Guarantee: Return any Artifact within 30 days of receiving it for a full refund. MINIATURE SUPER OBJECT 1: NON-THORIUM ANTENNA This is a strange little Super Object I developed some time ago as an incentive item to get you to order one of my former magazines. I got no orders, though. Now, there are 40 Non-Thorium Antennas, complete with tiny plastic container and title card. 28 left. OA001. Only $3 each! PERFECT FOVY Fovy was a publication I released fortnightly for five issues last Autumn. Each issue is on one folded-up 11 x 17 sheet of paper, with an awesome 8-Codingseed poster on one side and cool stuff on the other, including two Zope comics per issue! A wonderful collection, bound with a paper band, and only 26 made. 24 left. OA002. Yours for $5! PELTER CD-ROM This is an actual CD-ROM I had pressed over a year ago, and it contains 256 of the coolest clip textures you ever saw! Being for the Macintosh, each image is a 512 pixel by 512 pixel 32-bit color image. As well, each image comes in 6 varieties! These are 32-bit, 8-bit, grayscale, tiled 32-bit, tiled 8-bit, and tiled grayscale. This product never saw commercial release because, (a) I blew all my money just producing it, and (b) I'm too lazy and wary to have anyone else produce it. So! A great bargain, with only 40 copies available. Includes the original color-photocopied cover, and a brand new insert with updated information. Requires Macintosh computer with CD-ROM drive. 38 left. OA003. Only $30 each! READ THIS OR DIE! An awesome collection of Zope comics spanning eight years! Contains twenty sheets of colored paper, with 40 Zope comics in all! Included are "Zope's Resin Conundrum", "Zope's Little Puppet", "Doctor Zope and the Abdomen Ghoul", and loads more! Each set not only has the usual signature, stamp, and number--but an original drawing of Zope as well! All bound together with a big binder clip. A very raw artifact! 20 made, 7 left. OA005. $4 each. *OW* [[11018CN]] Contents BEGIN 01 018 CV--Cover 02 018 HR--Hemisinister Review 03 018 ZP--Zope 04 018 HT--Halfevil Times 05 018 LA--Lord of Obliviana 06 018 NH--Nihilistica 07 018 SU--Superior 08 018 DH--Dehumidifier 09 018 SR--Severe Repair 10 018 CO--Catalog of Obliviana 11 018 CN--Contents END *OW* [[END018OW]] -------> ------------------- ----------- -------- -- ----- |