Path: utzoo!utgpu!jarvis.csri.toronto.edu!cs.utexas.edu!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!ucsd!ucsdhub!hp-sdd!hplabs!hpfcso!daq
From: daq@hpfcso.HP.COM (Doug Quarnstrom)
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: Re: The Woman Beside
Message-ID: <9060008@hpfcso.HP.COM>
Date: 17 Jan 90 03:39:33 GMT
References: <9001151717.AA03010@fsdcupt.csd.mot.COM>
Organization: Hewlett-Packard, Fort Collins, CO, USA
Lines: 76

Cynic enters the bar.  He is black, or more correctly, he is 
dressed in black, but an aura of blackness seems to 
hang in the air about him.

He pulls a flask from his pocket an takes a hit of Southern
Comfort.  He has alway been sure that the comfort is in
knowing that there are a few less brain cells to conspire
to torment him tomorrow.  "Take that," he thinks.

He crosses to the bulletin board and leaves a note:

To Jilara:

I am glad to see that you did not belittle the women who
ride behind in your posting.  The world needs all kinds
and those who ride behind serve an important role.  It is
not right or wrong, it just is.

The people who ride beside also are important.  They are not
greater or lesser, they  merely are.

I ride alone.  If you ride with someone behind you, then you
always have someone at your back.  People behind your back
can get into mischief of all sorts.  Their hands could be
at your neck and you would not even know.  People who ride
beside might decide that they are leading and expect you
to follow.

It is far better to ride the paths alone, to feel the 
soilitude and the silence.  You may occaisionally seek
out the herd, or ride for a bit with a fellow traveller,
but it is better to keep your options open in case you
spot a vista that demands your attention, but does not
capture that of your companion.

As for soul mates, friends, etc, I agree that the women
I have been closest to were not lovers.  In fact the
few women who I was close to and became my lovers, departed
from me in bitterness and anger.   My male friends are all
slowly being sucked up and devoured by the evil disease
of marraige.  Marraige.  I hate it.  It steals your 
friends and makes them dead to you.  No longer can you
do the things you did.  They are gone, and it is never the
same.
 
This soul mate nonsense is like a yearning for heaven.
It is, perhaps, a nice idea, but it does not exist, and
to wish for it is to waste your time pining for the
impossible.  Perhaps it is better to find the friends
you can, get what you can from them, give what you must,
and just be alive.

Friends.  They come and leave again.
Spirits rise and fall.
Emotions beckon from the dark.    
You heed the lonely call.

Comforts soothe then fall away.
Lovers.
Silent.
Stalk their prey.

Rage expands.
Compassions grow.
It seems so new,
But still I know I've seen it all before.

It will never change or rearrange.
I laugh.
I sing.
I scream.
I cry.
I'll do this till the day I die.


Cynic