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Western Carolinian Volume 61 Number 04 (05)

Item
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Item’s are ‘child’ level descriptions to ‘parent’ objects, (e.g. one page of a whole book).

  • 09.21,95 invisible academy 10 A young man and woman the Sunday morning cro\ le and green t-shirt with a picture of Kurt C mt; the girl wore a baggy paisi .tuatedit. it made m> !-"~£j3^-_<t4(_£i4- m "Inside Hand" continued from 9 tinkled every couple of minutes and I thought I heard something like a groan between the "no ringy mamas." The chanting stopped all of a sudden and I heard them shuffling around inside. I headed back into my place, got back into bed, and was asleep before I knew it. When I woke up again, it was close to ten a.m. I live for Saturday mornings. I lay in bed and watched the sun move around the room like it was moving in. Everything was peaceful until I started thinking. There was no way that could have been Jim groaning in the apartment next door. Jim's not a groaner anyway. Must have been the blonde; maybe she's getting tired of the same old routine? Can't say I wouldn't blame her; I knew I was. I got up, showered, and headed downtown for some breakfast. I got my usual table at the Battery Park Cafe: corner front with two windows, one facing east, the other south. I liked to watch what was going on outside in as many directions as possible, and what was going on around me on the inside. There was a line of people across the street at the Asheville Civic Center waiting to get into a gun show. One man dressed in khakis and a faded army jacket walked down the sidewalk with a double barrel shotgun casually riding on his shoulder. Two other guys across the street were looking at each other's rifles and sighting something up in the air every now and then. Downtown or not, if some geese flying south happened to appear directly overhead, these guys would open fire without second thought. "Hey Jack, what ya havin' today honey?" Ruth Ann, the waitress, set a cup of coffee in front °f me. I noticed she'd pulled her dark blonde hair out of her hair net and had touched up her lipstick. "Oh hey, Ruthie." I pointed at the small Print beneath the Eggs section, "do you get these extra thirigs when you order two eggs?" 'You know you get that stuff; ya get it ever lme you come in. Let me see, you'll have the two - ^^^^^"^ cakes eggs over medium, hash browns, and pan- "Right on the button. But you know I just want to be sure; everything changes so fast in this own. It's always good to ask questions." Honey," she leaned over and put her hands on her knees, her smile right next to my shoulder, you know I always give my best service to you toys from the big W." Oh Ruthie, you just want to get your share lauT money in a big tip"'said' serious|y-She do whatever I have to to get my share," she said, with a sly grin. "• do too, Ruthie. 1 do too." rin_. The ^ls of St. Lawrence Basilica started —.["gateleven a.m. on the dot. I could see the church attendees streaming out the front door if I stretched to look to the north from the east window. A young man and woman walked by who didn't fit in with the Sunday morning crowd. The man wore a raggedy purple and green t-shirt with a picture of Kurt Cobain on the front; the girl wore a baggy paisley skirt that, loose as it was, did nothing to hide her sexy walk. If anything, it accentuated it. It made me think of the first time I ever got laid in a tent. I was admiring her skirt when I saw an all- too-familiar BMW zoom around the corner in front of me. Jim was leaning hard into the driver's door window as he negotiated the curve. I could see the hairs in his beard smashed up against the glass. He had something in his right hand and was gesturing frantically with it as he gripped the steering wheel with his left hand. There was a woman with dark frizzy hair in the passenger seat, but I couldn't see her face. I pushed the table away from my chair and knocked my coffee over on my way outside. With luck the traffic light on Haywood would be red and I could catch up to him. I ran around the front of the building, and saw the car stopped at the light, which, as good luck would have it, was red. I got about fifty feet from them when my luck returned to its normal state: the light turned green and my car took off. I stepped into the road and a blue pickup truck almost hit me. I don't know why, but I never thought to yell. I started running again, and when I got through the intersection, I could see the rear end of the car accelerating down Flint Street hill across Interstate 240 and past two lunchspecial prostitutes stationed along the bridge. They looked real interested until it didn't stop. One put her hands on her hips and acted like she couldn't care less, the other casually flipped him a bird with her right hand. I stood by the Civic Center for a few minutes to catch mf breath, and watched a group of men who looked like they were attending a Daniel Boone reunion walk by. Each one was carrying a rifle casually slung over his shoulder. Across the street the priest was standing in front of the Basilica as his congregation streamed outside. He wore a long flowing loose robe much like the girl's skirt, but it didn't do nearly as much for him. He shook his parishioners' hands as they left and he said "goodbye, see you next week." I wondered what he was really thinking. Chapter Nine I went back in the cafe and finished my cold eggs. Since I was downtown, I figured I'd go visit Higgins and get him off my back. I left Ruthie two bucks, a big tip for breakfast. I waved at her as I left and saw her little girl Nichole peeping around the corner of the breakfast bar. I blew her a kiss; she just stared. ... Vos Est continued from There is no starting anew, no forging a new identity or wiping the slate clean. You can't drop out or disappear, reassimilate into a new segment of society. "It's not the fault of reputation!" With social security numbers, cellular phones, beepers, credit ratings and electronic money transfer—how could it be? "Why the fuck don't you come down? Show us your face, magnus frater! Take our money, assign us credit, brand a UPC bar on every forehead! Because we know you're watching and you're ten years late!" Untitled #10 Spring renews the chartreuse vibrance of floral half-life. Archangel blowing the ominous Horn of Africa. Listening, anticipating, fearing the coming of myriad marching morons. Early harvest moon in the fallout season of the year. Big orange blaze Three Mile Islands away in the cerulean sky. Talking, visiting, birdwatching for Tomcats F-16 thousand feet in altitude. Nuclear winter family vacations. Spend the holidays at Lake of fire Placid New world order York. Tobogganing, skiing, skating on the thin ice cold hearts of local resident snowbunnies. TIMERE We spend EXTRAORDINARY time money and energy to run from that which we CANNOT push into the closet OR SWEEP UNDER THE RUG (reed thee end of yoor bible...) USA 20 USA 20 USA 20 USA 20 USA 20 USA 20 USA 20 everybody in my family says that i should pursue a career in writing because it is such a big escape for me from the worldly things that mire my brain with thoughts of what could so very potentially be reality sucks because it is so grim statistics which forecast calls for rain on my parade of lifes goals to attain that moral majority status sucks when you cant find experience without a job or a job without experience the joy that self reliance brings because nobody loves you the way you do or at least the way you think they should not betray anyones trustworthiness begets friendship which is hard to find in todays world of virtual reality machines where all you really need to do is just plug in to the 100000000000 channels on the satellite connected to the tv which makes your brain spoonfed when you were six months old and could do nothing but eat shit and cry if you are a man and you are a sap who doesnt like to be taken advantage of because there is more to love than just sex which is the latin word for 666666666 times i wondered how far lifes path would take me to a better plane of existence is the essence of being all you can be in the army where you are nothing more than one of the commander in chiefs chess pieces of shit that the dog of the neighbor laid on the lawn of the White house where soul asylum sucked when they played as * .bill signed **T??* *^*^*e_ bill into law!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Object
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Object’s are ‘parent’ level descriptions to ‘children’ items, (e.g. a book with pages).