From: CatalystPaperBag@aol.com
Date: Mon, 14 Aug 2000 10:44:02 EDT
Subject: In all introductions, I had to try
To: NYCgoth-L@necronomi.com





Gary. Male. New York. Single. Human being, has ten fingers. 
You cannot break my spirit. Overall nice guy. Follwing the recent flood of 
introductions. Hi. Nice to (not really) meet you. But the hearts there and 
thats all that really matters.
You may want to kill or mame. Or waste away and hide yourself up in some one 
bedroom apartment on the 13th floor walking around in circles on your living 
room floor, that pacing without very much room to pace in the clutter of your 
personal sanctity you pay for 2,100 a month. You could write a story, or a 
book. Or hear everyone say how much you should be writing a book. You could 
go on vacation. You could spend all that money and come back to the same life 
unchanged, feeling bitter that if you were to spend that kind of money youd 
want some permanence in the change of your life when you came back. Like youd 
come home to a fresh new world, a bold new life after your vacation. But no, 
the world moves on. Your life has continued in your home state, even while 
you were away on vacation. vacation - being decieved to believe there is 
hope, being baited and taunted by the legend of hope, this great new change 
of environments, like someone gave you a cure to some near fatal illness, 
only to tell you it was really only pez. And here you are back in the shit, 
you - knee deep with the rest of the world. But the world moves on, and 
continues seeming not to notice. 
maybe thats what makes it so unbearable. You can notice this lacking no one 
else can, they all move forth without a care in the world. As if they are 
dancing to music you cannot hear, you are at a standstill. Wondering softly 
and silently. Their cares are soddered, sanded fine edged in their overrated 
overpayed, hyped up, power precise jobs... their self absorbed, overly 
critical, anglo saxon lifestyles.
And you wonder to yourself how much more you can wait patiently. And you 
wonder to yourself how much longer you can wonder to yourself...


The human race identity malfunction classics soothe the wounded soul. Without 
some person-to-person worthwhile interaction I find I turn to losing myself 
in VHS slow paced, talky dialogue, camera angle heavy dramas or these 
violent, beyond action or horror films. Pornography also proves to create 
distance from oneself in life. It has to be hard, sad, european porno though. 
Sad, as in euro porn, where the camera pans up from the cock entering one or 
all orifices to close in on their eyes. No matter what theyre saying, or 
doing- there is this peaceful sadness, a cry in their eyes. Its heartbreaking 
really, but doesnt keep my hand from dick. Love/hate through and through. You 
dont know them...so why should you care? You dont have to, but you still feel 
it, even though you dont care. Its a disinvolvement of taste. A tasteful 
form. I dont like that tasteful art shit porn. If Im going to watch a young 
girl get fucked I am not looking for a tasteful reenactment. Go to fucking 
so-ho for avant garde. 

My introduction status, "I was born in Cleveland one blustry cool day".... er 
"I like Jello with ice cream on rare occasion" ..erm... 

"I wouldn't know where to begin.."