|| -------- -- -----  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 073--12/15/95 <-------  ||  OsoaWeek  ||  Issues  ||  Book 6  ||  -------> (Cup OWis073, Created v1 (4/27/99), Copyright 1999) = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = [[BEGIN073OW]] [[01073CV]] * * * O S O A W E E K 0 7 3 * * * December 15, 1995 "The weekly ezine of Obliviana Super Occult Amusement!" by Frank Edward Nora CONTENTS 01 073 CV--Cover 02 073 LA--Lord of Obliviana 03 073 NH--Nihilistica 04 073 SU--Superior 05 073 SR--Severe Repair OsoaWeek073, December 15, 1995 8th issue of OsoaWeek Book 6 Written by Frank Edward Nora Published weekly by Obliviana Super Occult Amusement (E-mail address in transition) 1-800-OBLIVIANA http://www.obliviana.com/~osoa All contents copyright 1995 Frank Edward Nora Regarding this file, you are free to make digital copies, so long as they're not altered or sold. All other forms of reproduction require permission. A CupFrontier containing this file will be available. Stay tuned for more details. Character count: 63055 / Line count: 1786 / Days late: 37 *OW* [[02073LA]] Lord of Obliviana Thu 1/4/96 * 10:35 PM * home Just spent 2 hours of Friends, The Single Guy, Seinfeld, Caroline in the City, Hoyo de Monterrey, mobius crochet, and Diet Coke. Most relaxing. Sat 1/6/96 * 11:35 PM * home Went on a date last night. It went really well. Today, this morning, I turned on The Weather Channel and saw that it's 19 degrees below zero outside, with the wind chill (9 degrees without). It's funny to think that 1996 is only 6 days old--it seems like '95 is just a distant memory now... The Anything But Monday situation is not good--Massotto's gonna call me today, and I have no work done on the 30 Ever Notice Ever Wonders I'm supposed to have done. Maybe I should talk to him about the structure of Obliviana and stuff--cuz if he's writing it all, he'll wonder what he needs me for. But really, he's not writing it ALL--I mean, I wrote many of the raw ENEWs, and I've come up with angles for a lot of them. I am wont to stretch myself too thin. This is something I have to watch out for in the future. Maybe the problem is that in OsoaWeek, I've only been writing what I FEEL like writing--and faced with a truly difficult writing challenge--an unpleasant one--I balk. That's not a very pleasant revelation. I mean, I think I'm a pretty good writer--but if I can't produce under difficult circumstances--well... My vision of Obliviana is hard to convey to others. I see how it will work, but too much of my vision is still amorphous. Got an issue of "Swing" magazine last night to read on the late-night train ride home. It had a list of the 30 most powerful 20somethings. Kinda put a fire under me, seeing these people, realizing that I could be one of them... Yeah, kinda pathetic I know. But I have great content, dammit! But hey--my stuff is most inaccessible right now. I have to PRESENT it to people on the World Wide Web in a great way. Right now, my WWW site is totally unknown, and very difficult to get through. I have to change this. I hate the WWW, but I realize that for now, it's the place to be. Another angle to all this is: I have always sought the right seed concept--one which can be implemented in a variety of media, at all different levels of production. As always--"What is Obliviana?" Sat 1/6/96 * 10:37 PM * home Um, big snowstorm coming. Two feet, they say, in Philadelphia at least, see I was watching the Philadelphia news. Okay. What is going on? I'll tell you--I have all the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle now--it's time to put it together. It's 1996--this whole digital revolution is gonna kick into high gear this summer. I gotsa be there man. I just gotsa. My 8 Revolvers are the key to it all. Obliviana Severe Repair Zope Superior Forge of Wander Balbitype Halzapular Fuzz 209 I'm listening to De La Soul is Dead. Haven't heard it in years. Hard to write while listening to rap. At least these guys aren't "gangstas"--y'know, all that kill white people and rape the bitches kinda shit, which is total fucking shit. No, De La Soul is okay. Not great, but okay. What am I talking about? Rap music reviews? I'm trying to set my course for the future! And I'm avoiding facing the issue by analyzing rap music! Yeah. Okay. Back to the issue at hand. Oh, haha, I forgot the lead rapper's name was "Posdnuos"--haha--I remember seeing an interview with him--he said is was backwards of "sound sop"--he said he liked to sop up sound. Haha. Damn! I gotta keep focused! So look--it's a world, okay? Inspired by classic video games. Your Fonosta is your "guy"--the thing you control in the game. And... and... your Fonosta remains constant as you travel from game to game. You have one Fonosta, and you keep it for as long as you keep playing Obliviana--a day, a week, a year, a lifetime. No 3-D. 3-D sucks. All dis (digital infostimulation) freeflow--no phony rules about copying. Only rules are, do not alter and do not sell. What you buy are CupFrontiers, limited-edition digital artifacts. You play Obliviana with your Fonosta on part of the screen, and in little boxes on another part of the screen, stuff from all 8 Revolvers keeps popping in, enticing you to drink it, and when you do, the game screen becomes the place where you drink Obliviana dis. This place can also enter a text-mode, with text-based games and even a command line interface. Above the game screen is the backglass, a colorful game title, or the title of whatever is there. Around the edge of the screen in like a train set, with train crews and stuff, acting on their own, but sometimes you can influence them. The basic screen with its various element remain constant--that is, the windows and stuff--this is integral to the interface. Oh, Green Bay beat San Francisco today, and Pittsburgh beat Buffalo. I like Green Bay. I hate San Francisco and Buffalo. But I'm not into football. Yeah, another distraction. I don't have much food yet--and you know how people run to the supermarket before a snowstorm--but I'm not goin'--even though I was in a supermarket earlier--McCafferey's in Princeton--but I went there just to look around, cuz we're doing stuff for them at work. Also, they had a bathroom there, and I had to go and stuff. There was no sign for the bathroom--it was just sort of hidden in a corner by the frozen food section--I guess a sign for a place where you shit and piss would kind of clash with the whole food motif. I don't know. Alicia Silverstone--where did she come from? Man, I'm losing it. Any semblance of an attention span I may have had is being ruined by De La Soul. So... am I floating... Fuck. Sun 1/7/96 * 12:51 AM * home Man, they're really going nuts about this snowstorm on the TV. One to two feet possible around here. Three feet down in Virginia and Maryland or something. But outside right now, it looks fine. Imagine, back before we came and civilized this continent, the fuckin' Indians wouldn't have had a clue that a blizzard was coming. But we're evil for making North America home base for freedom! Just a little Native American bashing there. Or rather, bashing of liberals who whine like little fucks about the Indians all the time. So--I think that above I did describe my vision for Obliviana. The idea of a computer interface, with your Fonosta participating in a variety of video games and... through the Internet, competing with other folks' Fonostas. Programming video games is not one of my strong points. So I have to introduce this whole thing with perhaps more basic games--like a text interface or something--which would be possible. Like I mentioned above, I'd like to create a DOS-like interface for Obliviana--a system where you could travel around the Obliviana world, Zork-like, read text dis, play the text version of Forge of Wander, talk to other players, etc. Or--more realistic--do stuff in the game, and then transmit codes over the Internet to Obliviana Primal, and interact with others in that way. Huh--I remember joking with someone--I think Mike Etler of Video Game Connections--of making text versions of classic video games--I think we were talking about Defender--but it could be done for others. We were just joking, and--indeed it would be difficult, but... Like, the game Nethack is not really text-based, but all it is, graphically, is text characters on a grid, and it's probably the best computer game ever. Low-tech--I'm fascinated with the medium of low-tech and squeezing it for all it's worth, as opposed to using cutting-edge tech, which I think encourages laziness. But yeah--to begin with, I see Obliviana as a program that runs on individual computers, and various codes or whatever are sent across the Internet to establish the common game. But no matter what, this is gonna require programming. I know how to program, and my mind is good at it, but it's something you have to immerse yourself in for long periods of time, and I know it could be a problem for me. Fuck. Well, the design of it all is what's important--you can always get some uncreative programmer to do the code, right? Sun 1/7/96 * 10:27 AM * home The snow's really comin' down. Two feet is a distinct possibility. May be a snow day tomorrow! Went to the supermarket earlier--very crowded--now I'm prepared. I know people overreact when it snows, but I really did happen to be out of food. All I had left was two-year-old rice, peanut butter, and two packs of ramen noodles. I guess I coulda survived on that, but not pleasantly, especially if I stay home tomorrow. So some good time to write, eh. And to clean up my apartment. 12:53 PM Just took a nap. The snow's REALLY coming down now! 4:03 PM Goofing off, making phone calls, cleaning up a little. Not getting much work done. So much for free time. I don't know--I have a feeling that all this is intertwined--the coming-together of Obliviana, cleaning up my apartment, getting my body in better shape, this new possible relationship. It does appear to be an opening, an opportunity, an overall path to success. 6:07 PM Crazy outside. 9:53 PM Where am I? Day off tomorrow. What am I doing? I wonder why I'm still so confused. Mon 1/8/96 * 3:44 PM * home No work today. Snow drifts up to my waist. Northeast totally paralyzed--state of emergency in NJ--no non-emergency vehicles on road. Stuff like that. Looks like the snow might have finally stopped. 5:54 PM Had to move my Jeep to another parking lot. I laughed inwardly watching the fools with their normal cars struggling for hours to get free. Haha, I kicked a little snow out of the way and blasted right outta my space. JEEP! Wed 1/10/96 * 8:48 AM * NJT car 5800 Okay--so I stayed home from work for two days--Blizzard of '96, you know. So today I gotta go to work, right? Yeah. First of all, yesterday I tried to go to work--I got to the train station after minimal trouble--and a train was there--NJT was running a Saturday schedule--hourly trains. Folks were crowding onto the train like cattle. Then I pat my pocket and realize--no wallet--I left it on the dining alcove table! So I trudged back to my Jeep, drove home, and when I got back inside, I looked at the sun outside, and dreaded a crowded, disaster-prone trip to work, so I called in and said I wasn't gonna go. I got a huge amount of work done cleaning up my apartment--I'm glad I stayed home! On Monday night, the night before, I watched the resurrected Murder One--ABC at 10 PM. Man, this has got to be the best show on TV. Truly awesome. So--this morning, I'm already kind of late, but not too bad--I left around 6:40 or so. In the Jeep, turn the key, and... NOTHING. Okay--check the light switch--yup!--left it on. Shit. Recalling all the snowplows and stuff roaming the area, I decided to call maintenance and see if they might be nice enough to do me a favor and gimme a jump, but I was quickly hung up on most rudely. So I wound up calling Larry's Sunoco, and getting a jump for $35. After the Jeep started up, I told the old geezer "thanks a lot", and he said "You owe me $35."--as if I was trying to get out of it or something! What a fucker! So I paid him, and took the long way to the parking lot--trying to build up a charge. At the parking lot, it was an exercise in slapstick parking--but somehow, there were no spaces left. So I parked in the private lot for $6. I revved the engine at 2000 RPM for about 20 minutes to make sure the fucker's gonna start tonight, but who knows. So at the station, all the trains are horribly delayed. I called in to work to tell 'em I'm gonna be late, and a black girl on the phone next to me tells me to quiet down cuz I'm talking too loud. What a fucking bitch. Then I stood at the platform, fully prepared for the train to stop with its doors as far away as possible from where I'm standing--but lo and behold--it stops right in front of me and I get a seat--next to a comatose-looking guy hugging his jacket. Then a snot-emitting dude sits between us, tissue constantly to his nose. And a faggy guy across from me with a woman's coat next to him--a black guy tells him to move it, and they have a little communication problem, and the old fag finally conveys the information that the seat is indeed being saved for a lady. So, a lot of conflict. Now we're at New Brunswick, and the train was already full at Princeton Junction! Wall-to-wall cattle-like crowding--and I have a seat--HAHAHAHA! Listening to Supertramp's "Breakfast in America" on the Walkman. Found it while cleaning up yesterday or the day before. Gotta put my dream into Diary of a Dreamfrank, below. 9:24 AM Train is stopped at Metuchen--been stopped for awhile--AH!--just made an announcement--NEWARK NEXT! Alright! We're movin'! Made a lot of progress on "What is Obliviana?" yesterday. Stay tuned for more details. 9:38 AM Man, I shouldn't have drunk that decaf. Now I gotta piss, and I can't explore the train for a bathroom, cuzza all the people! Maybe I'll feint a train-leaving to get to a bathroom. Or--just get off at Newark and hope to get the next train? It IS pretty bad. Gotta remember what I learned--odd-numbered cars have bathrooms... 9:46 AM At Newark--and a massive crowd out there--no way am I going anywhere. I'll just have to hold it in for another 20 minutes--if the fucking train doesn't get delayed into the station, that is. I knew it would be a nightmare getting in. And when I get home, eventually, you know my Jeep's not gonna start! Oh well... maybe it will... I DID spend a lot of time charging it, after all. Okay--maybe we'll be moving soon. Maybe I should have gotten out at Newark--but then I'd have an awful time getting to New York... Wow--huge crowd of people out there--no room at all on this train. Moved a little, then stopped. Now moving again. Yeah. Now they're saying another ten inches on Friday. Wonderful. I left my apartment over three hours ago. Now I have to piss real bad--so bad I find it hard to write! 6:55 PM * NJT car 1399 Man! Well, I got to a bathroom with was just yards away from me the whole time! Man! Blew that whole only odd-numbered train cars having a bathroom theory, eh! But it sure did feel good! Now, I've been in the bowels of Penn Station since a little after six--in these huge crowds, nowhere to go. A train came in on track 1, and I along with other people went down to it not knowing if it was the Trenton train--but it turned out to be, thank goodness. And now we're moving! Now I gotta hope my Jeep starts when I get back. Man, this is a bitch. Thu 1/11/96 * 8:20 PM * NJT car 5201? Now. I just finished the second issue of Classictronica. Took awhile, but now it's done, and it's one less thing to worry about. The ABM project with Massotto has pretty much ground to a halt for the time being. I just can't keep up the pace--too much other shit in my life. Nice excuse, I know. Another big snowstorm predicted for tomorrow. If it's bad, I can kiss my date with Heidi goodbye. Weather fuckin' with my love life. I feel messed-up. Emotional highs and lows, blizzards, dead batteries, oral surgeons demanding payment, Classictronica, ABM, OsoaWeek, laundry, Heidi--I'm getting pummeled! Missing "Friends" right now. Great. Train's already 12 minutes late departing. In Japan, you can set your watch to the trains. Here, you can watch as precious hours waste away, waiting for the train to move. Well, I'm missing "The Single Guy" now, so it's not nearly as bad. 8:50 PM I'm remembering Caribbean plaza in Adventureland in The Magic Kingdom in Walt Disney World, Florida. A heavy rain, maybe then I'm running to Thunder mountain, I don't know, the sound of the train. Yeah, Disney World memories. You gotta be getting to know me pretty well in these "Lord of Obliviana" features. I'm just going off, letting off steam, having my say, letting you in on it. I feel strongly that Obliviana will one day succeed. Then, maybe this stuff will be interesting. I don't know. But I am searching. Being human is tough. Guess I'm implying that I once wasn't human, and can make the comparison. Who knows. It just seems there's this stream of difficulty in everyone's life, and folks take different approaches to dealing with it. I'm virtually bathing in it, and maybe it's for the best. Who knows. But am I complaining? Ho no! I'm pretty lucky, all in all. I can recognize that. It's just--life for me is a constant emotional roller coaster. At least it's never boring. But... but what about ME? What am I trying to prove? Who am I comin' off as, Lord of Obliviana. Hey, I got something to say, and that's enough. You know? Walking down to the train before, I looked at everyone and it struck me as strange--being human. I don't know. After a creative outpouring, such as finishing up Classictronica, I often have a weird view of things. At this point in OsoaWeek, the procession of issues is tied to my ability to write Severe Repair. And it's going kinda slow. I'm not posing. I realize this. I realize a lot of what I write here could induce cringes. But come on. I'm not putting up a facade. This is me. I may sound like an idiot, but it's me. Self-analyzation. Whatever. I know everything is coming together. What is it they say? "Nothing worth having is easy." A phrase like that is something of a salve in times like these. Missing "Seinfeld" right now. Big deal. The big snow. It's comin' back. Boy I tellya, the third biggest snowstorm ever causes alotta hassles in the Northeast. Only 1947 and 1888 surpassed the one just passed. Been listening to "Sons of the Pioneers" today. Those haunting melodies driftin through my mind now. Who am I? Haha, good one. At least I know who I am. I'm the Lord of Obliviana. I didn't pay for my parking this morning, cuz the space was all fucked-up and I couldn't see the number. So another Jeep thing to worry about--am I gonna get a ticket? And also--is my battery still good? Worrying about stupid things. Let me tell you. If reality can be oriented to present a constant series of difficulties, it can be made to make good stuff too. But then, good stuff is empty if not strived for. Writing is a bitch. I gotta tellya. Writing is almost as hard as dating. But not quite. I like Las Vegas. It's an awesome place. Too bad Kerri couldn't get into it. All she wanted to do was gamble and sunbathe--no need to leave the Luxor for that, now is there? Uh-huh. Very nice. Alcohol 24/7. Does me a lot of good--I get a few drinks in me, I feel sick before I can feel drunk. Nice, y'know. My mind is drifting. I want to write some Severe Repair but my mind is drifting. Let me tell you, several cigars I've had, toward the end, a beautiful pussy smell, I tellya. Wonder if anyone else has experienced this. May as well keep going, 10 or 15 minutes till Princeton Junction. What can I say? Let me talk about the new focus of Obliviana. See, there's this facade covering the world. In Obliviana, you can retreat from the facade, and plan your adventure into the unknown from a quiet, little-known place. Yes, this is it. I finally figured it out. There's the facade--Corridor--and there's the vast realms of the unknown. But in-between these, these is a quiet, relaxed, resting and preparation place called Obliviana. And, uh, I'm the Lord there, if you didn't know. Not like god, more like a king or something. I don't wanna be a god. Yeah, 9:16 PM and I have the idea. Retreat from the facade. Start to explore the real world. But there's no hurry. For once, there's no hurry. The leisure aspect--kinda Playboyesque. Man what a great language English is--you can put the suffix "esque" at the end of any word to mean "like" or something. Cool. But anyway, this frantic pace, this Internet world, forget it--you get burned out on it. Obliviana, go there for shelter and time. Fri 1/12/96 * 10:33 PM * home I was in NJT car 1399 this morning--wasn't I there before? The weather was hideous today--wintry mix--lots of rain to cause flooding and stuff. My date was off. Sunday I'm going to Video Game Connections pretty much all day. I was supposed to see Massotto tomorrow, but I'm burnt out and I have a sore throat. Used some Chloraseptic before with an expiration date of Dec95. I must have bought it over two years ago. I remember once I OD'd on that stuff--from that same bottle--and drove home in a very weird mental condition--like being overly aware of everything, wary of everything, I don't know. It was a very distressing state of mind. I took the recommended dose this time. So, I don't know where I am. 1996 was supposed to bring me a renaissance, but right now, I'm in kind of a slump. Ah, y'know what?--I think I AM in a renaissance--it's just happening very slowly. Tomorrow maybe I can clean up my apartment some more and finish this issue of OsoaWeek? Yeah. Yeah. I remember writing some killer Superiors yesterday. Let me take a look at them, being that I have no clear memory of them. You'll see them is OsoaWeeks 76 & 77, the ones from 1/11/96. Let me see them... Um, I don't know. Not as great as I thought they were when I was writing them. Got a Richard Nixon stamp here. He was pretty cool. I am thinking. Or am I. Um, I am losing it. Aimless. Is that what I am like? I don't know. Aimless in the short run, focused in the long term. Maybe. I should go to bed. I have nothing to say. But somehow, I feel like continuing. Um... Looking at the keyboard. Such an efficient system. So few keys, so much you can do with them. Writing as a system makes music as a system look foolish. It's pretty amazing, where we are. It's tough to see it, cuz we're all in Corridor. Obliviana is about getting away from Corridor, taking a breather, and eyeing the unknown, with the intent of exploration. I wonder about how Kerri's doing without really feeling anything. This sort of confusion, contradiction, complication--central to what it means to be human. It's funny--all these gurus who promise to eradicate your problems. Ha, even if that were possible, it's our problems that make us human. Maybe you could call that a rationalization, but think of it--people without any problems make new ones for themselves. Is there anyone without problems? "Problem" has such a negative connotation. Maybe we should call them "puzzles". The difficulty is, some problems are better to have than others. Maybe without constructive puzzles to solve, we seek problems wherever we can find them. Drug addiction seems to be a pretty easy problem to get. As does credit card debt. Whatever--look, I'm losing it. I don't know what I'm writing anymore. What I'm trying to say is that you have to challenge yourself in good ways or you'll get challenged in bad ways. I don't like this whole line of reasoning. I'm gonna wash my face and go to bed. Mon 1/15/96 * 8:25 AM * PJ station Martin Luther King day. Without it, I would have had trouble finding parking. 8:36 AM * NJT car 1472 Soaring through the snow-covered wastes of Central Jersey, me, the mind, the body, the spirit. Obliviana is young--still in its infancy. How hollow will that statement sound if I fail in manifesting Obliviana? It would just be another bittersweet story of lost dreams. But of course, dreams are easy to dream, but very difficult to make real. So it stands to reason that most dreams will eventually become lost. I know that it is within my power to make Obliviana real. I mean, with OsoaWeek I already HAVE made it real, to a degree. This IS OsoaWeek073 after all--and that's a lot of issues. But as far as my true vision of Obliviana, I've hardly even begun to fight. I think I'll go back and read this entire Lord of Obliviana so far--I feel I need to to continue on. 9:07 AM Just read this whole section up to here. My first comment is that it reads really well. Not as meandering and pointless as it felt when I was writing it. Yeah, the past few weeks have been tough. But in that time, I've been moving towards a clear definition of Obliviana, more than any other time in my life. In fact, last night I came up with an aspect of Obliviana that may very well be the true foundation of Obliviana. It is the idea of duality--of Obliviana as an endeavor to release entertainment, and Obliviana as a major new system of occult exploration. Over the years, I have tried to meld these two sides of Obliviana together, with little success. Then, recently, I had a vision that the secret of Obliviana would be a duality--but it wasn't until last night that I discovered the right duality. I have always felt that the name of my endeavor--Obliviana Super Occult Amusement--contains all the information necessary to define Obliviana. Look at the last two words--"occult" and "amusement"--this defines the duality very well. The word "super" would then refer to the Fonosta-centric game which straddles the two sides of Obliviana; the game is that which binds the two sides of Obliviana together. Of course, Obliviana Super Occult Amusement exists as a gestalt--as a single meaning--of a super sort of occult amusement--but no explanation can do justice to the weird, wonderful impression the name can put into someone's head. I think that a lot of what has been holding me back over the years was trying to resolve this duality without really UNDERSTANDING the duality. This whole line of reasoning may sound odd to you--in OsoaWeek, I've focused much more on producing entertainment than working on 209 and the occult side--but in my vision of Obliviana, the occult side is as important as the entertainment side. This throws the Revolvers in tumult, though. Reason being, there are numerous aspects of 209, all currently grouped in the 209 Revolver. But with each of the entertainment Revolvers having its own identity, wouldn't it make sense that Friction Enhancer, Storm Codex, Wield of Transit, etc. Have their own Revolvers? I don't know--but some degree of reorganization in needed in light of this duality. So I think I have it. I think that this is the last piece of the puzzle that is Obliviana. I've always wanted to make Obliviana into ONE big thing. Now I see that it is TWO big things, connected by a third thing--the game. Obliviana--name Super--game Occult--209 Amusement--entertainment Something like that. Wow. I feel a whole lot better now. I mean--this idea is very new, and I have felt as confident about other ideas, only to see them fail over time. But this one... this one is RIGHT. I can feel it. It is the light at the end of the tunnel. The prize. Now begins a new chapter in the road to Obliviana. I'm glad you're along for the trip. 6:15 PM * NJT car 1355 No Amtrak Clocker service today--so NJT has to bear the brunt of the increased ridership. No Clockers cuzza the King Junior holiday. I don't know, seems like a lotta people were at work today. Not one of the more pressing holidays, this one. So--what about this duality? What exactly does it mean? Or even--could it be a trinity? Ah, no. Occult and Amusement are two totally different focuses of Obliviana. Super, the game aspect, straddles the two. Remember, 209 contains a lot of little games itself, and the overlap should work nicely. The entertainment side also has tons of gameable intellectual property. So Obliviana must be viewed as a duality, with two sides that don't overlap much, except for in the game. 6:51 PM Took a little nap there. The duality is manifest as two thrusts. Three really, including the game. It's funny--I feel as secure about this ideas as I do insecure. That is, I feel partly like I'm going down the right road, and partly like I'm taking the wrong turn. It's just the complexity of the whole thing. I wonder why it has to be so complex. But Obliviana IS complex. Tue 1/16/96 * 7:40 PM * NJT car 1412 Jesus Christ, what a fucking morning. Okay--first of all, let me preface this with some preparatory material. Okay. On Saturday, I got to the bank after closing time, so I had to deposit my money right into the ATM. I figured because of the King holiday, they'd get the money on Tuesday morning, and it would be available thru the ATM on Wednesday. Okay. So last night, when I got home, I checked the mail--figuring it was Tuesday for some reason. But it was Monday, of course. Meanwhile, I had spent all my cash except for a couple bucks. So--the idea is, I had to get up on time, to get to the parking lot on time, to get a $2 parking spot, which I COULD afford, as opposed to a $6 private lot spot, which I couldn't. Okay--so I bash the alarm clock at 5 and keep on sleepin'. Then I slowly come to consciousness and I look at the clock--like 6:37 or something. Shit! I quickly realize that it's Tuesday, and not Wednesday, and therefore I had no money for the day. So--I decide to take the bus. I have to rummage to find the bus schedule, and see there's one at 6:50. Shit. So I rush like a fucking, I don't know, something that's real fast, throw some yogurt and apples in a bag, grab my computer, and rush out to my Jeep. I speed toward the bus stop, not even a minute away, but this goddamn little rabbit or hare or something rushes out in front of me, causing me to brake hard, hurling the bag of food forward onto the filthy floor, where the apples, which I didn't have time to put in a protective plastic bag, fall all over the grit and grime on the floor. That disaster averted (I didn't feel it was worth taking the life of a moderately advanced life form to get to work on time), I pull up to the entrance to the parking lot, and there's the bus, leaving. Oh well. So I drive around the lot, in front of the stores, and this huge tractor trailer blocks my way. Distracted and confused, I turn to avoid the truck, and go my parking spot at home. What to do? The next bus wasn't till 8--and if I took the bus, I'd have to leave work early or have to pay $10 for a cab. That means less time at work, and a lower paycheck. So my plan is to try and find a spot, and if not, see if the guys at the private lot would let me slide for a day and pay them tomorrow. So I departed again. Let me add here that it's damn cold this morning, and I'm suffering from a cold as well, so the more time I spend puttering about, the more it would hinder my recovery. So halfway to the train station, I realize the obvious--when you deposit to the ATM, they give you a $200 credit right away! So I was saved. I got $20, and all was good. So I parked at the private lot as the Amtrak was pulling in. There was some confusion with where I should park, and me and the one guy, the older one, got into a minor argument. Then I had to organize myself--I had tied a sweater around my waist in haste, and left my shirt unbuttoned. So I had to fix myself up and get myself ready for the frigid, multi-minute walk to the station. I rush to buy some Snapple--I grabbed the first one that I saw--cuz my mouth was dry and I had some mystery Drixorol to take. I bought it and rushed to get on the train. It's mystery medicine cuz I got the blister pack, but not the dosage info. I think it's an extended-release tab, maybe even 12 hours or something. Who knows. Maybe I'll go to a store at Penn Station and try and find the identical box to see the info. So on the train, the guy next to me is whistling. I give him a few dirty glances, and finally he stops. Now he's napping. Behind me are two computer technicians talking real loud about fixing people's computers, talking like salesmen, real enthusiastic like. Then the guy across the aisle from them, an old dude reading, admonishes them that their voices are blaring throughout the whole car, and to please quiet down. One of the computer fools says something about not knowing the train was like a library. But they quiet down a little. Then we get to another stop, and people horde into the aisle, no more seats left, and right next to the old guy, these two loud morons start talking about computers! Hahaha! I mean, it's bugging me, too--but I can just imagine this guy--he must be goin' nuts! So--a real beauty of a morning. Nose all stuffed-up. Dirty apples. Evil tractor trailers. Oh, and at the light by my apartment, so much ice on the road that I couldn't get going without switching to 4WD briefly. Definitely a reality blam--a contrived situation causing a crisis, excitement, adventure, frustration--which winds up without any permanent damage. Yeah, I've had blams in the past. This one wasn't too bad in comparison. But reality still feel a little shaky. In fact, when I opened this document, there was like four inches of space between each line--very disturbing. I managed to fix it, but it was still quite mysterious. Damn--Newark already! Oh--forgot to tell you about the weird dreams I was having before I woke up. Check out "Dreamfrank" below for the "Bad Monticello" dream. Huh--"Bad Monticello"--could be a cool videogame! 6:04 PM * Amtrak car 21605 On the Clocker. Should be home by 7:15 or 7:20. I don't really hate commuting, but it's starting to lose its novelty. It's good experience though. It's humbling. And you see that a lot of people who make a lot more money than you have to put up with all the same crap. Now, I'm wondering, how long can this issue of OsoaWeek go on? Ah, I've only been working on it for ten days. If OsoaWeek was on schedule, by last issue, this issue would only be 3 days late! Whatever. Look, the reason for the delay is my temporary inability to make any progress on Severe Repair. Once I get back in the SR groove, all will be well, and I'll be able to catch up. Or will I? When is Book Seven scheduled to start? Gosh, it's gotta be soon. Maybe Seven's gonna hafta be another "loose" book. I don't like it, but it's better than falling impossibly off schedule. So let me check--Book Six is issues 66 thru 78. So Book Seven begins with issue 79. Thus--Friday, January 26, 1996 is the start of Book Seven. 10:25 PM * home I don't know about this whole duality/trinity thing. I mean--it does seem contrived and overly complex. But--if viewed as a duality... with the game part bridging the gap... But if it is truly an unsolved conflict, will it not eventually cause the demise of Obliviana? Can Obliviana exist as such a duality? Where do the two elements, entertainment production and occult exploration, meet? Indeed, there seems to be little to connect the two. But also... they don't really conflict with each other either. I mean, they're two very different things, and because of this, they CAN coexist, and even complement each other. Okay--so where does the game come in? Well, it IS something that incorporates elements of the entertainment and the occult side. But it exists on its own, as a game. So, one vision I had was that someone could focus on just one aspect of Obliviana, and basically ignore the other aspects. You could just drink the infostimulation, just play the game, or just explore 209. But I think that the real magic comes in when you experience all three aspects of Obliviana, to some extent. This division of Obliviana into 3 parts is not an artificial or arbitrary decision on my part, but an expression of the nature of Obliviana as it has come to be. Man, the NyQuil is really starting to kick in. Gotta go to bed soon. So, are there really these three areas? Is it truly a trinity, and not a duality? I think so. Super, Occult, Amusement. Makes sense. It may be complicated, but it IS an answer--maybe the answer I've been seeking all these years. Wed 1/17/96 * 8:49 AM * an Amtrak dining car I'm pretty late today. I would have been a lot later, save for this Amtrak Clocker being late and someone leaving the parking lot, giving me a space. So I'll get to work before 10 most likely--real late, but not massively late. Still, it's not good to be 2 hours late to work. I think the NyQuil is making it harder for me to get up. When my alarm goes off, I'm in such a deep state of sleep that I don't even understand what it is, and I muster up just enough lucidity to bash the thing and go back to sleep. In my dreams, I was at some sort of store, making out with this naked woman--but she got upset when I touched her between her legs. Still, it was pretty cool. I tellya--dreams ARE what virtual reality will NEVER be. The guy who figured out how to drive people's dreams with a program will be the richest man on Earth. Dreams can produce porn, but it's erratic and weird. Harness the power of dreams, connect it to electronics, and that's it. I'm sure there are stories written about this--I guess "Brainstorm" and "Strange Days" both deal with something similar. The thing is--using dreams, the exact graphics and sounds don't need to be encoded--just a series of suggestions to prod the brain into producing experiences of its own. Man, imagine how well a machine like that would sell. 9:53 PM * work I lost a lot of great stuff that wrote, cuz the PowerBook died on the train. Luckily, it's back to life now. Anyway, what I wrote was basically a solution to my whole Obliviana problem, but I remember it, and I will rewrite it below, tonight. 6:11 PM * Amtrak Reviewing the strange events of this morning--where my computer mysteriously died, just long enough to wipe out what I wrote--then came back to life with no problems--I now feel that this happened for a reason--so that I wouldn't include it in OsoaWeek, but rather, in a private document. So that's just what I'm gonna do. Sorry you won't be able to see it just now, but I'm sure, if this is the plan I adopt, you'll be aware of it eventually. Switching to private document... NOW. Thu 1/18/96 * 9:01 AM * NJT car 1517 Foggy morning, very. So yeah, the text the computer demolished, that I rewrote--it seems like the way to go. My goal is to start it on July 27, 1996--Obliviana Day--one day earlier in July due to Feb. 29, leap year. Obliviana is a game--that much I'll tell you. And you will have to pay to play--but not to observe. This new Obliviana will have the potential to make me money, unlike OsoaWeek or some of the other stuff I've been doing recently. I can hardly see anything outside the train, with the fog. Fri 1/19/96 * 7:36 AM * NJT car 1507 Well, another Friday. Payday. Wind chill in Minneapolis is -50 F, while here, it's in the 50's and 60's today. Cool--I need a break from the frigidity. Who am I? There's that question again. It's tough living, it raises a whole lot of questions. I used to question things a lot more, but I fell into the stride of the adult, masking out the real questions of life, just to deal with life. But the basic questions are still there. And the central one--What the hell is going on here? Think about it--we were all born and raised in reality--so why do we question it so? What do we have to compare it against? Well, there's obviously something--otherwise we wouldn't be so dissatisfied with the explanations that are currently out there. Russians. Sitting across from me and conversing boisterously. Great. Sun 1/21/96 * 8:41 PM * home Well, I spent most of the day doing laundry--8 loads in three separate buildings. I also did the dishes and took out the trash. Eating celery now. So, I don't know. I don't know if this girl Heidi wants to go out with me again. It's really been bumming me out. Massotto called and was all pissed-off at me because I've been neglecting ABM and stuff. I gritted my teeth and told him about my new idea for Obliviana, and he reacted very badly. He wants me to put Obliviana on hold for the next six months to work on ABM. Well, all I know is that we got four issues of ABM out nationally, and that's it. OsoaWeek is up to 73--and though it isn't a commercial project yet--I've produced more material--and lost less money--than with ABM. Don't get me wrong--I still want to work on ABM, it's just that ABM would work so much better as a Revolver in the Obliviana system than as anything else. Oh well. On Friday, I managed to write some Severe Repair, so I'll be finishing up this issue today, and I'll be able to move on to 74. I think this issue might wind up being one of the latest ever. But it's huge. Chock fulla good stuff. Looks like 37 days late. Yeah. Let me see how that compares... 050: +40 051: +38 052: +38 053: +44 054: +37 057: +37 066: +38 059: +31 These are all the issues 37 or more days late. So this issue will certainly not be breaking any records. Issue 53 holds that dubious honor--I'd have to wait another week to make this issue that late! Oh well. The time has come to finish this sucker up. Get all Obliviana!!! *OW* [[03073NH]] Nihilistica ***DIARY OF A DREAMFRANK*** 1/10/96 Somehow I managed to soft time travel back to my body when I was still in grade school. I was in school and taking a test. I was funny how my writing looked different--even though I had my current mind, I had the hand muscles of a child. I felt my belly, expecting it to be flatter than my adult fat one, but it was kinda fat--weird. I remember that the test was easy, due to my adult-level intelligence and all. Later I was back in the present and in Somerville, NJ, visiting my friend Alex's store--only half of which was open--the other half opened later in the day. I told him about the time travel, and he asked my if Nigel Planer, Neil from "The Young One" TV show was involved. "Well yes," I responded, "I did have to transform myself into Neil from The Young Ones." He said that he wasn't surprised--most time travel involved Nigel Planer to some extent. Then I was walking around Somerville at night with a new girlfriend, and it was Halloween time, and there was a cardboard cutout of a monster that kept changing every time we looked at it, scaring us. Then we headed for a supermarket, and I decided to do the Michael Jackson Thriller thing, dancing around her, singing "It's after midnight, and something evil's lurking in the dark..." I thought I did it real good and I was real full of myself. In the supermarket, I pointed out a really good orange drink from when I was there that morning. Then later, I was at the supermarket with my family--for the third time that day--again pointing out the orange drink. And the supermarket now had multiple floors and was extremely crowded. One line, we saw, led to a bank of elevators, the people lined up against a railing, open into a huge atrium. My father, a contractor, had built the emergency staircases, so he knew where they were, and we took them to get down quicker. At the bottom he noted to my brother that the door was slightly ajar, making our exit all the easier. Outside, a security guard said that using those stairs was "no good" and we'd have to find some other way. I was wondering what he meant--for us to go back up the stairs? Wouldn't that just mean we'd be using the illegal stairs MORE? But my dad explained "I built those stairs, or rather, the Roman candle of the stairs." I imagined the "Roman candle" of the stairway was like a central pillar or something. So the guards let us go, but to show us the error of our ways, they activated a huge stage, and we sat to watch the show, and my mother and sister sat far away from us. I noted how silly it was to put this show on just cuz we used the forbidden stairs. That's all I can recall. 1/16/96 At one point I was the king of a fast food kingdom, and a sentient, anthropomorphic french fry container, with blue and white stripes, approached my throne and quit--he said something like he just couldn't go on. He only had a few fries left in him, and they were cold and soggy. It was really depressing. It was a sign that my kingdom was falling apart. Then there was this whimsical sort of journey, shades of "Alice in Wonderland", and it wound up with me being Thomas Jefferson, and the rest of the action took place at Monticello. Inside Monticello was a cavernous atrium--I marveled at the enormous windows on the walls, marveling at the fact that I built the whole place with my bare hands, not really remembering the construction. I was flying around inside Monticello in some flying vehicle, fighting someone else, kind of like a 3-D videogame. Finally, I shot through the windows on one wall and flew outside. I liked shooting those windows. There was a path that led to the house that went through a little stream. One guy, maybe like an anthropomorphic turtle or something, was scared to get wet crossing it. Then I was with my parents, giving them cool presents. I gave my father a paperback book with water damage and no front cover, but it was a real good book. I forget what I got my mother. That's all I can recall. 1/18/96 Today I was on a hill with my girlfriend, and there was a dusty path leading up to it, and all these creatures were coming towards us, to attack. More creatures were also heading our way from the other way on the path. They walked slowly and single file. I noted the great variety of creatures--including four or five C-3PO's in a row! I retreated to the massively overgrown grass of a field, and one C-3PO came after me. I felt relieved it was just a C-3PO, cuz I knew I could kick C-3PO's ass. We fought briefly, both falling down, I think, and then I retreated further, to a manhole-like opening in the ground--maybe like a time capsule or missile silo. The opening device had a Valentine's Day card in it or something, with a heart, and maybe something written. I opened the thing up and got inside the narrow cylinder. There was another locking mechanism with another Valentine in it at my feet--but the creatures were now threatening the launch of projectiles against me--so I closed the top. Then I said something like "It all comes down to unlocking the next door, seeing how it goes." or something like that. Later at Nanny's house I thought I saw a fire in the kitchen--from reflections on the walls of the darkened room--but when I went to investigate, I saw it was just a candle. Then I went with Kerri, I think, up a secret stairway to a secret room, and partway up was ANOTHER secret room full of cigars boxes and other cigar paraphernalia. I think I was making out with Kerri at one point around then. Later, at my parents house, my brother was asleep but his eyes were open, and he looked awfully uncomfortable. I saw he was sleeping on all manner of uncomfortable items, and I woke him up and pointed it out. He claimed that the items were mine, and that it was my fault. But in fact, it was his stuff. In a dream a day or two ago, in a store, my brother was younger, and went up to a group of Green Bay Packers, in full uniform. He was young and a fan, and thrilled to see his heroes in person, but one of them picked him up and flipped him around wildly. My brother was filled with terror, and I felt awful about what was happening--the shattering of innocence. At some point in today's dream, I was in a deli, with an Indian owner. I wanted to get some donuts with powdered sugar, but the guy had to go into the back of his store for some reason. I saw that the guy had a bunch of videogames--some out for play, some in the back of his store. Then someone else came in, and I told him that the guy would be back in a minute. See, the owner knew me and trusted me to watch the store. It was a weird day in a city outside the store. That's all I remember. 1/21/96 Me and my girlfriend were working in this building--I think we had an office there--and there was something like an occult apocalypse going on, and we were breaking down the walls, trying to find secret stuff the Freemasons put in there. I remember finding these little boxes, where, maybe over a hundred years ago, the Freemasons would put in little slips of paper, for eventual delivery to the central Freemason organization, I guess. We found one that still had messages in it, which was an awesome find. The subject of the messages was something like a naming contest, and I thought it would be decent to see all the cool entries the Freemasons of the past had come up with. I think we were driving around or something, but I can't really remember any more. *OW* [[04073SU]] Superior SUPERIOR 421 The cosmos, rock concert, the waitings and wantings of teens, expectation of a state beyond expectation. The hopes so bright, how adults laugh at them, knowing so well how they'll slowly die. Snickering at hopeless dreams. All teens fall into the same trap, follow the same preset path, no matter how fervently they might believe otherwise. Rebellion as part of growing up, might seem like rebellion, but they all lose it. Except, me, Frank Edward Nora, I have not lost it, and I am 28. SUPERIOR 422 Heat dazzled for beach company date, wonder, what do you have to do. In extraordinary circumstances, not to wind up back in your apartment that night or the next. Being tired, all I want is to be home and in bed, end this torture. But isn't being home in bed, as opposed to everything else you want to do, torture itself? Heat dazzled, and big money torpedoed, foil streamers at convention, $4 Coca-Cola, wandering. Heat. SUPERIOR 423 Talk about hussy. Tired in city. Toy store enlightenment is as immolation in self-awareness. To stab, she forgets to kill, street corner as they paint me. Car. The sex thing. Kissinger. SUPERIOR 424 Back home, dark and cold, college friend memories, stabbing shame, no pony tail today. Go on. Friendly colonial street, weight of the daily childness I can Louisiana and--a bar--I--screwed it all up, it is she--and I cannot return--again and again--the way out, forget about the other girl--but no girls--and... and... and... I am here. What I know about. Please. SUPERIOR 425 Lost. Days away. I want to be all over America. Now I know--duty calls--I cannot cry--it is a metallic Christmas memory here--bird. Commend. Look to you for support. Just... just hanging out, talking. Fear of insanity. Going... going home all the time. Dark days. Who was it? Daddy's apartment, I was proud to think he had girls over. Morning... what is the loss of. SUPERIOR 426 Again, quench interstate power. Bye. Everyone experiences night. SUPERIOR 427 I am have a script typeface was my life. Love. Kiss my love. Can't get it back. Funny, it's the girl I lost six years ago not six weeks ago. Funny. I am funny in a way of jarknest. Fuck yes. Storage technologies will evolve, and we must evolve along with them. SUPERIOR 428 Ah, again, just once, was it. Horses, my sister liked 'em. Light rail, can I copper aluminum the yes icon, to pretend--the dork, making fun of the dork--his feelings never cross my mind. But what real punishment is there? Cosmic balance? Yeah, that's realistic. *OW* [[05073SR]] Severe Repair SEVERE REPAIR 60: "Free Dear Tours" "I'm Free. I'm Thor. I'm Agatha. I'm Harrison. And we are... PSEUDOAIRPORT! How's that?" It was a little promo spot that RRTV aired a lot when coming back from commercial. Free Dear Tours heard it from the other room, and rushed in, trying to find the remote to turn the TV off, but being unable to, wound up hearing the video host talking about her. "I tellya, that Free Dear Tours, is she like the Stacy Mejelca of Rillekon's Road, or what? Well anyway, we got a great lineup for ya, beginning with Lace and--" Free yanked the electrical plug out of the wall. "Don't like that, huh?" said Harrison: Night President from the next room. "Shut up, Harrison." Free said, collapsing onto a couch and curling up. "What did you do--overdose on cold medicine again?" "Get outta here! I don't feel good!" Harrison gingerly walked over to the couch and gently sat down on one edge, careful to avoid touching Free. Free hit the couch with one hand in frustration. "What do you want." she said, her face still buried in the couch. Harrison smiles, and after a pause, said "I found that new superglue." "What?" Free said, making it sound more like a moan. "Superglue. I heard it bonds skin instantly." "So?" Free said after a pause, expecting Harrison to continue. "I wanna test it." There was another pause, after which Free began mumbling "No, no, no, no, no, no, no..." "What?" "No. I am not going to superglue myself to you. No way." "Why do you think that's what I wanted?" "Because I know you, Prez. I know you. You come up with these stupid ideas, always trying to get into my pants--you know--you got a lot of nerve--after striking out with Thor moving on to me." Harrison continued smiling his expressionless smile. "At least you were second. There's always Agatha." "There is NOT Agatha. She's not into love and sex and all that good stuff. She pure mind, no emotion. There is no Agatha when it comes to a love life." Harrison didn't respond, so Free finally looked up to see what was going on, but Harrison just stared at her. "You know, you're worse than Agatha." "I am?" "Yes, you are. You profess to want love, but you show even less emotion than her. Y'know, what's you problem?" "I wasn't aware that I had a problem." Free snickered and said "Yeah. Right." She sat up, on the opposite end of the couch from Harrison. Even though there was more than enough room Harrison remained in his precarious seating position. They stared at each other. "Okay, humor me." Free said. "Tell me about this superglue plan of yours--tell me exactly what you hoped to accomplish with it." "I wanted to get close to you." "Oh really." "I thought... Well, I did have a plan. I thought, being that you disagree with me on everything--" "--I do not--" "--being that you DO disagree with me on everything, I thought you'd challenge the notion that superglue bonds skin instantly. I thought you'd be so adamant that--that you'd agree to test it with me, just to show me how stupid I am. Then--knowing that it DOES bond skin instantly, we would be connected, for fear of ripping our skin off. Then..." "Then what?" "Then I'd be close to you." They stared at each other for a time. "And what," Free said slowly, "would happen once we were close?" Harrison blinked once emphatically, clearly an involuntary response. "We might get intimate. Kiss, nuzzle, hug. I..." "What?" "Your neck--it's just so--whenever I look at it, I just have to--I want to kiss it and lick it--it's just--it's what I'm focusing on." Free frowned and leaned back, her arm on the arm of the couch. "You know," she said after a time, "that's the most romantic, human thing you've ever said to me." Harrison didn't respond. Free sniffled and coughed. Harrison smiled wider. "Oh!" she said. "The cough medicine! You thought that since I was loopy on the junk that I'd succumb to your brute advances! Oh! Okay!" Harrison took a deep breath, and some emotion crossed his face. He looked down. "That... did occur to me." he said softly. "Uh-huh." Free said, sniffling again. They were silent for a time. Finally, Harrison mumbled "It's just... if you could let this happen... just this once..." "What?" Free said, her voice sounding more compassionate than she had wanted. He locked eyes with her. "If we could just... just make out... no genital stuff..." he said, and added almost too low to hear, "...if you don't want." She stared at him and tears began to well up in her eyes. She wanted to think it was the cold doing it, but it wasn't. It was compassion--and pity--for this man's desperate plea. "What's so special about me?" was all Free could think to say. "You are the most wonderful woman I have ever encountered. In mind, spirit, and body. All of them." "Oh yeah?" "Yeah. And it's just--when we work together--it's beyond my control. I just think of kissing you." The tears welled up more, and Free felt her willpower disintegrating. The pity, the pathos--her role in it--how she could be the salve for his pain. The cold medicine--blurring her judgment--she was about to acquiesce to his desires. She smiled an inviting smile. "Your desire to kiss me--does it stem from a merely physical response--or from an emotional one?" "I... I don't know. A little of both maybe." "You're acting like all you wanna do is neck with me and leave it at that. But you think that once we get that far, the home run'll be that much easier, right?" He didn't respond. "Well let me tell you something. If I let you kiss me--and lick my neck--and whatever you want to do--and not let you go any further--you're gonna get into a funk, right? And make me feel guilty? And make my life miserable?" Harrison held his hands out in front of him, and began crying. "No." he said emphatically. "I'm just--it's just me trying to control myself--control my mind, control my lust. If I--if you allow me this--it will relieve the pressure in my mind. If I know that maybe, I don't know, occasionally we can kiss... and cuddle... I won't be obsessed with taking it any further. I'm a teammate. I want to act like one. I just... I just want this kissing and everything to be an extension of our... being teammates. As a way to help me help myself." Free took a deep breath. "Harrison, I think you're sincere, but I know that your plan is seriously flawed. I know you think we can just kiss and lick each other's necks and stuff and leave it at that. But that's a totally GROSS, BLIND misjudgment of human nature. Once we get to that point, you know it's gonna mean more, and it's gonna cause all sorts of problems on the team, as if we didn't have enough already, and... and..." "Okay." Harrison said softly. "What?" "Okay. I can take no for an answer." "Huh?" "You don't have to explain yourself. What I asked was... was... insane. Please forgive me for burdening you with my troubles. Who knows... I think that just by talking to you about this, it might help me." Free narrowed her eyes. "Harrison--let me tell you something--you're manipulating me. I don't think those are real emotions. I think you're acting." "I'm not." "But let me tell you something. There's only one way to shut you up. I'm going to give in. But remember this--it's only going to go so far. Eh? No clothes are coming off, no hands are gonna go UNDER the clothes. No touching me between the legs... or on my ass... okay? You understand?" "Are you serious?" "Yes, I am serious." "How about your breasts?" Free gave him a nasty look. "You really are pushing it, boy. But okay--as long as I'm making rules, I may as well make all of them. So--yes. You can touch my breasts--THROUGH my shirt. And the bra stays on." "Can I... can I kiss your breasts... through the shirt?" Harrison's eyes were glazing over. He looked like he was out of it. "Um--yes." "Could I kiss your belly?" She looked down at her shirt and saw that it revealed a little of her pretty abdomen, including her bellybutton. "Uh... no." she said, realizing that a tongue down there would most likely lead only one place--down. "Oh please..." Harrison said, now almost in a trance, staring at her navel. "Please... the thought of experiencing that bellybutton with my mouth..." Free began to get aroused. Damn it, she thought, I don't want this to happen. But it was human nature... and she hadn't gotten laid for a long time... maybe too long. Her, such a celebrity, chastity was unbecoming. She gave Harrison an alluring smile. "Okay, lover. If you think you got what it takes, why don't you come up to my room in about five minutes?" "Are you--" Harrison began, and then stopped. "I'm throwing all the rules out the window, friend. If you want me, now is the time to get me." "I... I don't know if I want it to go that far..." She stood up. "Look Harrison--I know you're playing a game. And you know what? You won. I'll fuck you." Harrison stared at her, silent. "I'll see you in five minutes." she said, as she turned and walked away, running her hands over her blue-jean-covered ass." Harrison took a deep breath and wiped the sweat off his brow. He sat in silent meditation for several minutes, aware of the time ticking away. Then Thor Panther Clothing walked in. "Hi Prez." she said. "What's wrong?" "Nothing." he said, then gulping. "You don't look so good." "No..." he said, "No, I'm not. I think I'm getting the..." "The cold that's been going around?" "Yes." Harrison said. "I think I better go and lie down." "Yeah, that would be a good idea." Thor said, walking over to a little table and perusing the mail that sat there. While she was facing away from him, Harrison quickly got up and headed across the room. He didn't want her to see the big bulge in his pants. "Alright, I'll see you later." he said, almost out of the room. "Have you seen Free?" "No, uh, I haven't" Harrison said, breathing a sigh of relief as he left the room and headed for the elevators. Soon he was at Free's door. He considered knocking, but figured the situation demanded a more forceful approach. He opened the door, and stepped inside. Free was sitting at her desk, talking on the phone. She had taken off her jacket and her sneakers, but nothing else. Harrison looked down the hallway to make sure he wasn't spotted, and then closed the door, waiting for Free to acknowledge his presence. She glanced up at him and held up a finger. The tone of the conversation was in endgame--sounded like she was trying to get off. And soon, she did, with an "Okay, talk to you soon. Bye bye." Harrison cleared his threat nervously. "If you..." he said, butterflies in his stomach, "if you change you mind, I..." But she had already gotten up and crossed the room to him. She put her arms around him and pressed her lips to his. He opened his mouth and their tongues embraced. "We're gonna do this." she said, her voice deep with sex. "Yeah..." he said slowly. "But afterward, I have a job for you." "Oh?" "Yeah. But don't worry about that now. I know I'm taking away your fun by not letting you seduce me little by little. But I think it can still be--" He put his index and middle fingers gently to her mouth to quiet her. "This is the greatest gift you could ever give me." he said, and then he bent down and regarded her bellybutton, his hands on her waist. "So perfect..." he said, as he slowly licked and kissed the navel. And Free shuddered. *OW* [[END073OW]] -------> ------------------- ----------- -------- -- -----