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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 094--5/10/96 <------- || OsoaWeek || Issues || Book 8 || -------> (Cup OWis094, Created v1 (4/27/99), Copyright 1999) = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = [[BEGIN094OW]] [[01094CV]] * * * O S O A W E E K 0 9 4 * * * May 10, 1996 "The weekly ezine of Obliviana Super Occult Amusement!" by Frank Edward Nora CONTENTS 01 094 CV--Cover 02 094 LA--Lord of Obliviana 03 094 NH--Nihilistica 04 094 LM--Life Mysteries 05 094 SU--Superior 06 094 SR--Severe Repair OsoaWeek094, May 10, 1996 Third issue of OsoaWeek Book Eight Written by Frank Edward Nora (except where noted) Published weekly by Obliviana Super Occult Amusement obliviana@aol.com 1-800-OBLIVIANA http://www.obliviana.com/~osoa All contents copyright 1996 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. An Obliviana Cup containing this file will be available. Stay tuned for more details. ASCII Characters: 22867 / Words: 4151 / Lines: 662 Days late: 50 *OW* [[02094LA]] Lord of Obliviana Sun 6/23/96 * 1:33 PM * New Apt. * Tarb 4179 I will now try and figure out what Tarb it is... above is the Tarb I figured out... haven't written it yet... writing is like time travel... back and forth... how many thinkers have said this and thought they had struck upon something original? Many, I suppose. And by referring to such, I shield myself from looking stupid, saying something that may have been said many times before... Like at Sam Goody before... I got the new Beck album... and the girl making change was like preparing to give me way too much, and then she caught herself... but I realized... you might say "heck, I'll take it!" or something as a comment on the situation... but it's just been said so many times... that it's not funny anymore... it's just lame. And this phenomenon is behind a lot of things... so many things are being said, that we're kind of using up things to say, and everyone has to become jaded and cynical... But on to the Tarb thing... From the Tarb Guide in OW078: Fri 4/26/96: 3829 thru 3834 (OsoaWeek092, first issue of Book Eight) So... here we go... That was 58 days ago. (Good title... "That Was 58 Days Ago") So... 58*6=348...3829+348=4177... So it's now 4179... Just made a flood in the kitchen... filling up a pot to make pasta for the first time here... and I forgot about it... and caused a little flood... Denice stayed over last night... and the night before... now she's home doing some homework... but she's not in college... she's taking classes and stuff related to her job... Now, here I am... OsoaWeek is late... my Web site index is still in the works... and I am at the heart of the matter of Obliviana... I am probably going to make some Obliviana hats... real professional-looking ones... they have a hat stitcher thing at the mall... and at Port Authority... maybe the Port Authority one would be easier, since I pass by them every day... 8:11 PM Geez! I've been sleeping all afternoon! It's night already! Totally chaotic! Lost... don't know where I am... need to get a grip... 9:13 PM Was watching a boot of "Eraser", smoking a cigar I've been smoking all day, on and off. Still smoking it. Denice is coming over in a little while. 6/29/96 Wow, this issue is 50 days late. A record. Get all Obliviana. *OW* [[03094NH]] Nihilistica ***ALL THE B SUPERIORS SO FAR*** SUPERIOR 195B Flew at latenight rented car earlymorn, domed hotel and ralcifice office, the tin bannister sanction. Was I not a warrior, of skill and power? Billiard winter drink, I was in you, I was the deep glass window at the airport last night. I am burning. SUPERIOR 313B Hint of pepper in the air and she's finally with me. Today for adventure, tonight for sexual adventure. Why are there computer graphics in my thoughts? Dear home, I depart, and must hope you'll survive. You have a mundane life, not here, but at most a day out like. SUPERIOR 152B People? I was one, here in the wood, we had Ahalhia. People. Derive cursive floralities to snow Dallas, winter window, the desperate journey of four confused teens, and the little baby antelope who binds them all together. Helf, and I'm back in the stupid studio with the miserable ones. SUPERIOR 324B Gotta deliver silver confetti torrential rain to the horny pieces of ass at college. What I blew up. Donut break. Keep on stumbling, you're bound to jackolantern sooner or later, kin. Thine ray ignored, quiet mind pub. It comes to mind. SUPERIOR 21B Wondering heavier than usual night alive I'm swept I'm deter the mind. From southwest departings, how fuse a fuses, in first of fur stroke on face. Freight set the rare object down upon my desk if you will. Set it down my fair companion, set it down, a mug of fire for you. SUPERIOR 176B Comma J, the code word for the attack. The details were scoundrels, and our faces were none to match. Scuse me man, has the day to die arrived. It's not always like that boy, we have a paranormal girl with us, none of us will die, she will kill them all, so relax, you won't even have to fight. I remember languishing and meandering on windy hilltops—I don't have to work, I don't have to fret. This place is strange—got here in some peripheral wisps of ultramagic on the battlefield. But I can't wait too long. *OW* [[04094LM]] Life Mysteries LIFE MYSTERY 2: "Tommy Hits the Big Town" by John Nora Dave, Tom, and I were stuck in the snow. We had come down from Art School to look at some comic-book museum, and after getting there and finding out that the damn place was closed, Dave's van broke down. Which was no surprise because it was a red-orange piece of junk, now dead in the snow. We were in New York State and there were no phonebooths around. Dave got out to knock on doors for a phone. It was snowing, and wet and slushy. Tom and I sat there in that cold cadaverous van for quite a while. There was a chutney-colored light in there. Tom was probably the best draftsman at Rhode Island School of Design. He was destined to become a Walt Disney Animator. He worked on Pocahontas. Then, though, I probably felt like I was the best draftsman around, and we were both really into comics. We were crazy in a sweet, innocent way, to make comic-books our life. We were also two of the coldest, most dispassionate people I have ever met. We had no problem just sitting there starting to freeze, and passing off remarks to each other. Then Dave got back. He had called his friends who got there pretty soon in a big sedan. Dave actually lived close by. From Dave's it was decided to go over the bridge and drop Tom and myself off in Harlem. We'd catch the express train to Port Authority and just barely make the bus back up to school. Tom was from St. Paul, Minnesota, and had never been to New York City before. It was as plain as day. And we were all the way up there. Washington Heights-ish. Some young, petite artist woman got off an uptown train dressed in black jeans and a white t-shirt and glanced over at Tom as she moved along encased in Harlemites getting off the subway car. Ear-flapped, Tom was slight and neat. A soft woodsy checkered jacket; mittens; a neat little backpack. She could hardly believe her big fox eyes. I was no pushover, either. I had grown up in New Jersey and had come to New York quite a number of times. I was far more terrified of it than Tom was. We took the local instead of the express and missed the bus. At Port Authority Tom was admirably curt with the panhandlers. Tom didn't come from a very wealthy background. We walked down Eighth Avenue to Penn Station. It was late and those upper canyon reaches stood blacked and quiet. At Penn Station, I called my mother and she yelled at me, and then my older brother got on and sounded very confused about what was happening. Waiting for the New Jersey Transit train, Tom and I drew people. We both drew a wealthy-looking, attractively black- stockinged pregnant woman. Her husband gave us a stoney, frank stare. We finished our drawings from the memory. Then I made a mental note for a painting of a young cop slowly and discreetly walking over and tugging at a dozing bum lady, the cop's night-blue back to me. That night I slept in my New Jersey bed, and my brother in his bed, and Tom lay happily on a cot. I remember the next morning, as I sat straddled on my mom's piano bench. *OW* [[05094SU]] Superior SUPERIOR 528 * 5/7/96 When there is, she is, let's start all over. About me, I have a bad attitude, or a bad strategy about it. Vague memories of afternoon sci-fi movies. Second guessing is the pits. But there's a fine line I define then. Love on the Internet. About it. No more, nothing more to decide. I have a vision, and it enables you to be other people, and it lets you cut loose, and when you get used to it, it's over with, if you can see. Amusement parks and waiting for calls. Pride as deadly sin, but without pride, you'd just keep calling, every half-hour, till the end of the day. I'm not saying it's bad to fall way down, I don't know it, but I am saying, a distant smell of wine, sometimes you are never going to wind up on top, and then why not just jettison the whole package of the situation. SUPERIOR 529 * 5/7/96 Thinking about adult, the ideal. Calling boating, golfing, travel, being rich, gambling, being skilled, good facade, it seems like an ideal. But what it is? Abandon a train of thought. Tired and driving to a dozen strip malls, loving the mundane, a day without a center of gravity. Here are bad words. I am in a bad place. Go away, game. Him, that would be me, standing far away, and it is fizzling. Here I am, knowing it's bad, and I am stalwart and I decide to finish it. The robots got us the drugs, it was just funny. SUPERIOR 530 * 5/8/96 Kiev is a place, right? Went to home of gods yesterday. An immigrant has gourds. Couldn't quite hear what they said about the vice president. Please murmur, rocker cascade. Managed a singing family and got nothing but abuse. Here is the useless interpretation, no other Superior are like this. Kiev came to mind. I think it's in Soviet Georgia, so I thought of Georgia the state, where the Olympics are gonna be this year. Olympics, Olympus--home of the gods. Asgard is the home of the Norse gods--"has gourds"--and Led Zeppelin's "The Immigrant Song" tells of Norsemen and gods and stuff. A line in the song says "whispered tales of gore"... hence the silly next line about Al Gore. His wife Tipper was (is?) head of the PMRC, the Parents Music Resource Council or something. So the next sentence has the initials PMRC. Rocker Cascade (just a poetic construct), sounds like Reuben Kincaid, manager of The Partridge Family, hence the last sentence of the that part. As I said, this is NOT the structure of other Superiors. It's just something stupid. I don't know--I'm not doin' too good with the Superiors these days. So I guess I'm resorting to self-reference to try and buoy my ratings. As in, if there were Nielsen-like ratings for Superiors. As I said, I'm not doin' too good these days. SUPERIOR 531 * 5/13/96 Where you become PART of the game, the woman sitting next to you smells like static electricity, mud and bad stores. Sang the wham and trying coal for the first time... the freeze is Judith and Missy, and... corporations are seen as evil by immature weirdoes, let us go to the rock, in, in, I know I have a boyfriend and I know you lust after me but that is that and we should go. And we should go and there you go. *OW* [[06094SR]] Severe Repair SEVERE REPAIR Book Six, Chapter 68: "Impglein" "Daptin is masturbating." said Agatha Petunia Wack. "Why are you so concerned about it?" Prince Ferrajalt said. "I'm merely observing. I'm aware of it when any of you three are doing it. Yes Prince, you too. You too, pumping your erection for that fleeting pleasure." Ferrajalt frowned. "You're judging us, about that?" She smiled. "Yes. Definitely, at some level." "You've never done it?" "I have. Maybe once or twice a year, when I get that particular whim. But when I do it, I make it special. You guys... you do it every day... several times a day... and I have to wonder about it..." "Well, we're certainly not gonna have sex with you, and it's a matter of biology that the stuff accumulates inside us and messes up our thinking and all that. It seems to me a great relief that we can just 'pump' ourselves, as you say, and keep the whole thing to a minimum." "I suppose you might have a point... but look at you all! You're all three of you vastly powerful and godlike... shouldn't you be above some base matters?" "I'm no god." "You're a prince." "Yeah, that's right." There was a long pause as the two sat in the control room of Ferrajalt's Warhome, watching the near-featureless landscape of Twicvion Lane zoom by. "So you've never had sex?" Ferrajalt finally asked. "At all?" "I have never been inspired at all by a man. If one came along who was at my level, I'm sure I would do it. It's just, all the men I have ever met have been ridiculous, compared to me." Ferrajalt snorted. "Not too conceited, are we?" "Is it conceit to state truth?" "No, but it makes people around you nervous." "I know that all three of you would like me in their bed... poor Belly Billion more than you or Daptin... but it would be a very unfunny comedy, and something I want no part of." "Fine by me." Agatha narrowed her eyes. "You are thinking that I am missing out by not letting you insert your penis into me, being that you're royalty and good-looking. Let me make it perfectly clear that I am not missing out at all, not even a little bit, by not letting you put your penis into me." "You're a weird girl." Ferrajalt said, smiling, and expecting to get a smile out of Agatha too, which she didn't. "I am someone who makes sense. If that is weird to you, then you are living a rather pathetic life, wouldn't you say?" "No." All this talk about sex and Agatha was making Ferrajalt actually desire her to a respectable degree. He knew she would sense this, and made no attempt to hide it. She narrowed her eyes again. "You men are such losers. Look at you, desire raging in you, attracted to me when I criticize you. You feel belittled, and you want to get back at me by dominating me sexually. You are so very predictable, Prince Ferrajalt." He laughed. "If you think it means much either way to me, it's you who are pathetic. You know, you're gonna freak out by me saying this, but you REALLY need to get laid, girl. You really need to just relax and stop thinking so much and just have some fun." "Another pathetic attempt to seduce me... to appeal to the pent-up frustrations in a woman... hoping to let her defeat herself so you don't have to work as hard to conquer her..." she said, and after a pause, continued, "I find it quite fascinating in a detached, scientific way, to see how you seek to find some sort of flirting, some kind of sexual chemistry between us." "I'm a guy.", Ferrajalt said, shrugging. "That you are." He laughed and pointed at her. "There! You see? Humor! You ARE capable of humor! I can't believe it!" "You have a very low opinion of me, because you cannot accept how fully realized I am. You seek to understand me in terms you are able to be comfortable with. You are playing games with yourself... much in the same way you play with your penis whenever the animal urge strikes you..." "So?" Agatha became angry. "Your great weapon is flippancy, isn't it, prince? When faced with a challenge to your sad little personal universe..." Ferrajalt laughed heartily and sincerely. Agatha scowled. "Ho, Agatha--I think I understand you now--'sad little personal universe'--come on... you know that doesn't apply to me..." Ferrajalt said, and then, after a pause... "... it applies to YOU." Agatha continued scowling at Ferrajalt, her big eyes now burning and seething with rage barely under control. Ferrajalt continued. "If you were so 'advanced' or 'fully realized' you wouldn't be getting so upset at this... come on, stop with this deluded personal shield... admit that you're as fallible and emotional as the rest of us..." "And fuck you?" she blurted out, her voice wavering. Right after she said it, she looked confused and ashamed at having lost control. Ferrajalt smiled and nodded. "You're the one constantly steering the conversation back to sex, Agatha." Agatha swiveled her chair to face away from Ferrajalt. After a few moments, she spoke. "Prince, you have succeeded in bring forth in me a weakness, one which I thought long conquered. An aspect of me deep inside was attracted to you... and I was lax in personal housekeeping... it grew unchecked... and now I have the humiliating displeasure of having an audience when it flared up. I have defeated the thing within me, and I can only make a sincere plea that you not relate this incident to anyone else." They were both silent for a time, the hum and rumble of Twicvion Lane the only sound. Finally, Ferrajalt spoke. "So you have repressed the urge?" "Yes." "Do you suppose that's the right thing to do?" "It is. Were I to succumb, I would lose most of my powers." "WHAT?" Ferrajalt said too loudly and too excitedly. Agatha slowly swiveled around and regarded him, her face a miserable post-tantrum glower. "I mean... you... you're a virgin? And... and your power depends on it?" "Yes." Agatha said without emphasis, sounding very tired. "I'm sorry." Ferrajalt said, looking away. "I wish this did not have to happen. I am..." "Ashamed?" Ferrajalt said, turning back to her, and bringing his right foot up onto the chair, hugging his leg. She stared at him with a tired apathy. "Do not think that this episode has brought us any closer." Ferrajalt raised an eyebrow. "But... but it has... hasn't it Agatha?" "You might think." she said brightly with a cute smile that shocked Ferrajalt. "You're a weird girl." And Agatha smiled again. * * * I am Daptin Gone. Lying here in my bed in my Warhome, travelling for months, a million miles down Twicvion lane, and I'm losing it. It's all so complicated and confusing. My awareness... limited... in my Land... Daptin's Land... I had a sort of omniscience... but I was still getting accustomed to it when I got banished... banished from the world I created. And now... nothing to do but wait. If I'm so damn powerful, why can't I do something? Maybe I could... it's just... being here... in that portion of reality known as Rillekon's Road... only one thin sliver away from Gnoboslast... one step away from the last layer of the onion... from That Which Exists Outside... here, I'm afraid to muster too much magical force... for fear of screwing things up... for fear of being wiped out again, like what happened with the goodbye popcorn... Yeah... what was that all about? Obfuser. The Ultra Occult Entity. What do I really know about him? In college I knew him from my dreams... and I would "talk" to him when I was awake, but he was just a voice in my head... he kept saying that he knew what I was going through and that he wanted to help me... mostly it was just me wanting to get into some girl's pants... I thought he was just a figment of my imagination... but one day he showed up, looking like some skinny freshman... and we hung out... it was weird how I was so nonchalant about this immensely powerful entity being my buddy... I don't know... I told him about my experience at Canyon with The Tracy Taciturn... about my miraculous cure... about how a lot of the people around me thought the whole Hizzings Disease thing was a hoax all along... about how I went to college far away from home... Thatterine College in Gullia Fair in Baskonontana...to get away from the whole scene... I told him how I kept saying "Here is Canyon" over and over again, to try and get back there... to no avail... He told me he knew something about what was going on, but he really couldn't tell me. He did help me get into those girls' pants though... that was good of him... My life... such a blur... trying to keep it all in perspective is so hard... things have gotten so complicated... it's like my life before Agoopish is this big blur... and trying to remember is like trying to create... as if I got to Agoopish with no past, and I'm just making it all up as I go along... it's just that so much has happened... all this universal cosmic stuff, and me at the receiving end, always in the dark... Then came Overwhelm Associates... finally, I was into the supernatural again in a big way... a Quality Scout, travelling to myriad Overwhelm teams on myriad worlds... writing reports... It all happened so fast... Dean Roarke Maiden... my good friend in college... he got me into Overwhelm... he was the son of a professor who died... a professor who was good friends with Bavler Bestroystraw and Letevs Fife and the whole gang who were the Aconck pioneers... Professor Jile Maiden... Whatever happened to Dean? I was supposed to get together with him, but then I was introduced to Agoopish, so it never happened. I was afraid he was starting his own pirate Aconck company, and was going to ask me to join... guess I'll never know now... Who am I? Who am I really? It seems like I am an extremely pivotal personality in the scheme of things... Fox said that I prevented him from ending the world... and now, my Land is serving as the platform for Sleap Drassy to quite possibly end the world herself... almost like... I saved the universe from Fox, just to allow it to be destroyed by Drassy. But what does it all mean, all these experiences? Aconck, Agoopish, Cup of Coffee, Daptin's Land, Rillekon's Road, Gnoboslast... I want it all to make sense, but the more I think about it, the less sense it all makes. I am the center of my own universe. So why do I feel so transparent? Why do I feel like I'm my own best friend, a best friend I'm slowly realizing I know very little about? What can I do? What should I do? I just want a world where things are stable, where you can get to know people without worrying that you... or they... will get swept into some alternate universe at a moment's notice... I mean, I have a strong feeling that I'll see my love Spanking New Sarah again... but considering where I am... it might not happen... there's a good chance that it might not happen... I'm falling asleep... let me fall asleep... I can't deal with this anymore... * * * You drive down Route 9 and you see a store called Impglein. You're puzzled, because you've never heard of such a store. So you stop... and you get out of your car, and you look into the store... all sorts of cool stuff in there... and you look up at the sign... IMPGLEIN... and you fear that this might all be a dream... with your luck, it probably is... finding such a cool store, then waking up before you get to see what's inside... *OW* [[END094OW]] -------> ------------------- ----------- -------- -- ----- |