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From: dyer@atari.UUcp (Landon Dyer)
Newsgroups: net.singles
Subject: Petrified people
Message-ID: <133@atari.UUcp>
Date: Sun, 9-Mar-86 23:28:18 EST
Article-I.D.: atari.133
Posted: Sun Mar  9 23:28:18 1986
Date-Received: Wed, 12-Mar-86 22:22:33 EST
Organization: Atari Corp., Sunnyvale CA
Lines: 65
Keywords: fear, technopeople, crawlin' creepies


[...stuff I ripped out of a letter to someone else....]

... My requirements are somewhat less stringent than Jim's.  Body
temperature around 98 degrees, female, no communicable diseases.
Missing body parts are OK as long as they aren't important ones.
Well, now, seriously ....

I really take girls much too seriously.  Here is a neat passage
from Gravity's Rainbow:

	... Women avoid him.  He knows in a general way what
	it is: he's creepy.  He's even aware, usually, of the
	times when he's /being/ creepy --- it's a certain set
	to his face muscles, a tendency to sweat ... but he
	can't seem to /do/ anything about it, can't ever
	concentrate for long enough, they distract him so ---
	and next thing he knows he's back to radiating the
	old creepiness again ... and their response to it is
	predictable, they run away uttering screams only they,
	and he, can hear....
		(p164 of my paperback edition)


Being a technowierd technonerd is a full time job.  :-)

----------------

My roommate's cousin came out to visit for a few days over New Years
(her mission, according to her parents, was to "feed us and help us
move").  I was instantly scared to death of her, and decided not to
be mercenary.  Really.  No (of what I call) ``intentions''.

Three days later she was /murdering/ me in 2,000 point rummy, to 2
in the morning, and we were having conversations like:

	"Don't do that.  I'm ticklish on the bottoms of my feet."
	(she does it again anyway)
	"Aggh!"  And she moves too fast for retaliation.  "Are you
	ticklish anywhere?"
	"No."
	"NOwhere?  Sure?"
	"Yup."
	I move faster this time -- she's ticklish /everywhere/....

----------------

Another favorite line, from _Warlock_, by Jim Harrison:

Background:
The protagonist, a slightly depressed and unemployed man in his late
30's, is sitting at the kitchen table, head in hands, thinking about
what his life is about.  The drinking: how to handle that?  The
extramarital affairs: what's going on in the marriage?  What about
getting a job, moving back to an executive position in New York?
What /is/ the meaning of life, anyway?  Where did he fuck up?

His wife sneaks up behind his back and yells:

	"Leave yourself alone!"

S'funny how things work out when we get ourselves out of the picture.


-Landon