From: duke@portal.paperboy.osf.org (Duke Robillard)
Newsgroups: alt.angst
Subject: Angst Police, veterans, Dinosaurs
Date: 15 Oct 92 16:50:09 GMT
	<DUKE.92Oct12125343@portal.paperboy.osf.org>
	<1992Oct15.065508.6469@acme.gen.nz>
Organization: /u1/duke/.organization


In an article  kilroy@acme.gen.nz (earthbound misfit, I) writes:

   duke@portal.paperboy.osf.org (Duke Robillard) writes:
   > Xibo is right, this group has gone to hell.

   And whoever said it a couple of weeks back was also right: people who've
   been happily lurking in the background have got a hell of a nerve to
   complain about the "appropriateness" of those of us who haven't.

Yeah. What's your point, fan-boy?

   Angst Police, what a wonderful concept.

Come on, you can do better than this.  Look at Rachel--with her failed
trip to Texas, and her suicidal dinner date, she's become deeply 
angstful lately.  

In another article kilroy@acme.gen.nz (earthbound misfit, I) writes:

   Yeah, true, to be a "veteran" you apparently have to be one of the hip
   trendy in-crowd who hang out on the Angst List.

   This is alt. It's kind of dynamic, you may have noticed. Anyone who
   participates regularly in a group for several months is deserving of the
   title "veteran". I think the word you're looking for is Dinosaur.

It occurs to me that perhaps the people currently reading the list
don't know what good stuff is.  To help with this problem, I offer,
as a teaching aid, a classic posting from Xibo, the patron saint of 
this group.  This was from August 91, before he became "happy."  I 
have a wide collection of such pieces.  Krill-man's experience with 
a mouse is particularly appealing

  Newsgroups: alt.angst
  Subject: Friday night
  From: coates@convx1.ccit.arizona.edu (Mr. Coates -- Xibo)
  Date: 3 Aug 91 07:56:06 GMT
  Distribution: alt
  Organization: Xibological Perimeter
  
  5:00pm
  Arrive at home.  Drop off mail, ponder dinner, drink some water.
  5:05
  Think about the monsoon, how wimpy it's been, and how the weather
  just isn't as exciting as it used to be.
  5:10
  Stare at wall, think about how quiet it is.
  5:30
  Realize I own a nice stereo.  Power it up and press play.  Look at
  my couch, covered with junk mail.  Think how nice it would be to be
  cuddling someone on that couch.  Junk mail is probably a more realistic
  use of it tho'.
  5:35
  Stare at foot.
  5:40
  Stare at wall.  Begin to wonder what I'm going to do tonight.
  5:50
  Consider going to a movie.  Realize I did that last night.  Stare at 
  other foot.
  6:05
  Fix dinner: take pizza out of box, put on top of box, put in microwave,
  set for 2-4 minutes, wait for ding, take out, eat, throw away box, have
  no dishes left to clean.
  6:30
  Smile because the CD-changer is changing CDs for me and I don't have to
  fuck with it.  Go back to sulking.
  6:35
  Decide to call an old friend I haven't heard from in over a year.  Tell
  him I graduated last year and I'm actually working, making money, buying
  toys.  Still single.  He is too.  We go over a list of our old pals and
  all of them are single, except for Mike, who married Barbara, and had
  a baby, and stopped communicating with any of us.  Talk about some good
  old times and the 'curse' of Tech.
  7:05
  Say bye, since there's only so much to say, and the money may be better
  spent on a movie.
  7:10
  Load up fractint and stare at some fractals for a while.  Very pretty.
  8:45
  Unhypnotize myself and turn off the fractint.  Ponder playing SimCity
  for a while.  Decide against it.  Change shoes to something more danceable.
  9:05
  Drive downtown.  Find a parking place.  Walk to a new club.  It's dead, dead,
  dead.  A few new youngsters are hanging out.  I don't recognize most of them,
  so I must've been in Tucson for a while.  It has been 2 years, but it beats
  the shit out of me where 1991 went.
  9:20
  Decide nothing is happening here.  All the kids are in little packs, there
  is no one I can talk to, so I go for a walk over to an adult alternative
  club.  It's even deader.  I walk back to the new club.  Not much happening.
  The music isn't quite real industrial dance, it's something newer, and not
  very respectable.  No Bauhaus or old Cure or, well, anything 80's.
  9:30
  Go for a walk around downtown.  It's Tucson, so it doesn't take very long.
  9:55
  Arrive back at the club again.  Still not much happening.  See the one guy
  who was almost my friend from teenydoomerland (a different club), he says
  yo and proceeds to ignore me.  I shrug it off, at this point it doesn't
  really matter.  There's a few cute girls, but nothing worth staying around
  to gawk at, cuz the silly sixties style of stupid long colorful skirts seems
  to be in fashion.  Stupid kids.  Can't define their own fashion.  Oh well.
  10:05
  Decide to return to car.
  10:10
  Drive north past teenydoomerland; appears like nothing is happening there,
  but I don't stop to check.  Drive past a couple popular frat/sore hangouts,
  decide not to stop.  Think about driving randomly for a while.
  10:15
  Discover I'm randomly heading home.  Yeah, right.  Decide to just go home.
  Accelerate to 55 in the 35 zone to make it interesting.
  10:20
  Arrive home.  Stand in parking lot staring at the building where the cute
  redhead lives.  Flash for a second on the thought of sharing some time with
  her.  Stare up at the sky.  It's clearing up.  Yep, definitely a boring
  night at hand.
  10:30
  Stare at first foot again.  Consider staring at the wall.  Think of how
  I could be at work getting ahead on the next week.
  10:40
  Wonder if it's just me, or if it's Tucson.  Unable to decide what is wrong
  with Tucson, I come to the unpleasant alternative decision.
  10:50 
  Consider going to bed.  Wonder if I can even remember how to cry.
  
  Xibo, "Am I dying, am I dead."

--
Duke Robillard, DoD #0130, duke@osf.org
Newsgroups: alt.angst