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The Rebel is a student publication of EastCarolina University. Offices are located on thecampus at 215 Wright Annex. Inquiries and con-tributions should be directed to P.O. Box 2607,Greenville, North Carolina, 27834. Copyright1972, East Carolina University Student Govern-ment Association. None of the materials hereinmay be used or reproduced in any manner what-soever without written permission. Subscriptionper year, $6.00.diorpheusoMorpheus? is the greek god of dreams and alter-ed or transformed states of awareness. In thatsense, it is our interpretation of the function ofArt and our imposed intent with this publication.We offer the name and the interpretation to allinterested persons. It is our suggested name-change for The Rebel, a name that has been out-grown aesthetically and functionally. The staff ofthis publication offers up the alternative and wel-comes all response and criticism.-The Editor-

Editor-m-Chief... gamer s . . Phillip K. ArringtonGepBiredor .... a ©... . oe Glenn LewisManaging Editor... . . siue..---- Sandra W. PenfieldAssociate and Copy Editor. . .Susan Lee BowermasterOIG ES PCO ico ov os David Swink

TABLE OF CONTENTSa a ag EES IRI aan en Tats MRE ITS Fe untitledRO et acs Highway 21 Truckstop BluesOGD cissccsiconss i didi kode untitledes enatduhsonmacedcemian untitledrg; oe ceendepskpoual TrustOO 2 ice hie Pe Pe i ccs GolgothaON BS iia Pi; Pe he inc pepto bismol bluesge Get GR ostinato: Rain ThoughtsNTE srchecciies RIG GR Sincere neni ee SnowI BI ssc as TE iis sic, sac suiacun even nmin Watching Sally DieON TF cccknkes esi bal icc ocooceusiecessadvdcbatessdesecmmbanieace SandPN FE ini cncctancascsssasiccecae My Treasured DisgracesRG TP occ ass CN i sds sad euueg tntnn cg vdes Dialoguesa 9 Sadao Archie Gaster ............ Unpublished Letter to the EditorOU Be cciicisccss a ee etcsdaneunewesenal untitledDOGG SS ..cccockes es en csuscddapinccenecuinss sheeees Minor KeyRN I ors pica ii chiids i doassnaceicnnscstcsees GatsbyTs IIlusionIES vscccsieal Pe a os calc ib ve ch cna cafe songpage 36 .......... ee cic scccduncesdacsanenniins il Fly AwayOE DS ccs cness Pro cconssduussasnanaan Frederick SorensenOOO SO i. scsatuens ee Ds. . cconseseuibepisbenimibansens sire Lover

Se 74» Nets; bs oCIA _ =Come fair angel :rest thine hand upon my arm 2and we shall be togetherand drunkriding atop a windy willowof a clarinet with a honkand atweet.OC ACKWats iaf(oog(

Oa NaNOsing of once-upon-a-timeeeSRA At,Seen tt etlconfused by the hands of god speed and time

"""" 2 CE EEE EEE EIBy Tellus enchanted euphoric,Life passes in melancholy splendor.An Endymion life of dreams,A Lotus of ardor.A Rainbow arched over the Sky today....It spouted from your Eyes as You lay in bedDevouring Yourself.Trustilltrustyouwhenicantellyoutogetfuckedandknowyouwontvomitonmeyour silly tears

ees, Ge asie atot el se - r

Harry MacCaslin leaned forward, so that the wrought-iron guardrailpressed sharply against his stomach. Peering down from the narrowpedestrian bridge, he gazed at the brown water swirling softly twentyfeet below and wondered for an instant at the riverTs depth and thetexture of its silent, silty bottom. Reaching into his back pocket, heproduced a black, thumb-smoothed wallet and flicked it with only asmall arc into the water. It landed with a muffled, slapping splash andsank, a muddy rose rippling outward from where it disappeared. Harrywatched the rose melt back into the swirling mass of brown. Turningsuddenly, he strode across the bridge and into the bustling center of thecityTs downtown business district.Harry paused at the corner of a busy intersection and smelled thehot, stale city smells. The light blinked to green, and he strolled acrossthe street past a phalanx of purring headlights. A towering, sooty-grayoffice building dominated the newly-captured corner. The wordsFIRST NATIONAL BANK were perfectly chiseled out of stone abovethe heavy glass doors. Harry peeled off of the sidewalk and through thedoors, reading the block letters above his head as he did.There was a low hum of voices, and the antiseptic smell and electriccoldness of the overhead lights reminded Harry of a hospital. Hestepped across the gleaming linoleum, past the tellerTs cages to the firstin a row of large desks, all manned by homely young women pecking attypewriters.~~1 wish to speak to the manager, please,TT Harry said softly to the girlbehind the first desk. She had buck teeth and small red blotches on theleft side of her neck and face.oItTs about an error on this monthTs statement.?oOf course,?T said the girl, unfolding herself from behind the desk.oThis way, please.?THarry followed her past the row of chattering typewriters to a4 mahogany door with the word MANAGER stenciled on in white paint.The girl knocked and opened the door without waiting for a response.oThis gentleman would like to talk to you. He says itTs about amistake on his statement.?Harry walked into the office and heard the door pull shut behindhim.oWilliam Eustis,TT beamed a squat, balding, ruddy-nosed figure, risingfrom behind an even larger desk than those outside. Harry shook theextended hand.oSit down. Please. Sit down.TT William Eustis nodded to a leatherchair next to Harry.o~Now-what can | do for you, Mr. ""?? said the pudgy bankmanager, resettling in his own chair.oMy name is Harry MacCaslin,?? said Harry, drawing a small,blueblack pistol from his raincoat pocket, ~~and the first thing you cando for me, Mr. Eustis, is remain extremely still"because if you moveone muscle toward the alarm buzzer under your desk, | will shoot avery large and gaping hole in your forehead.?William Eustis paled immediately.oNow, Mr. Eustis, you will notify the proper receptionist over theintercom that you are not to be disturbed for the next thirty minutes.7

BeThen you will come and sit in this chair next to mine.?Eustis picked up the phone receiver, dialed one digit, and whileHarry leveled the gun, rasped out the instructions. After hanging up, hewobbled out from behind the desk and wheezed down into the chairbeside Harry.oMr. Eustis, in exactly fifteen minutes"now"a .38 caliber bullet willbelch forth from the obscenely ugly muzzle of this pistol and slam withincredible velocity into a point roughly marking the median betweenyour two eyes. The impact will snap your head back as though it hadbeen smashed with a baseball bat, Mr. Eustis. There will, of course, besevere and instantaneously fatal trauma wrought upon the greasy,convoluted clump of worms that we call a brain, Mr. Eustis. | can onlyspeculate as to whether the bullet will remain embedded in your skull,or exit"varnished decorously with red and gray, of course. If the littlemissile does indeed prove to be particularly tenacious, | can assure youthat the hole in the rear of your head will be even larger and messierthan the one in front. | apologize for that, Mr. Eustis. Do you have anyquestions at all about your fate??Eustis had blanched completely, and his eyes glazed overmomentarily.oNow, now, Mr. Eustis. No swooning. Listen very closely because |will explain quite clearly why you are going to die in such a seeminglyabsurd and"well, improprietous manner.TT Harry paused to light acigarette, carefully keeping the gun leveled. He tossed the smoulderingmatch into an ashtray on the desk.oFirst, Mr. Eustis, you are thinking, if you are thinking at all, that |am obviously deranged, a raving madman with homicidal inclinations.Secondly, as your ego and sense of survival realize the very real threatof my words, you are or will be wondering, ~Why me? | donTt evenknow this"assassin.T In response to your second thought, you areright"as far as | know, neither of us has ever laid eyes on the otheruntil now. | was inexplicably, whimsically intrigued by the name ofyour establishment. LetTs ironically call it fickle fate. As for youparticularly, | fear that | am guilty of a rather negative, and perhapsunfair stereotype image of bank managers. A rather sterile,unimaginative lot"epitomizing bureaucracy and the death of the soul,categorically in need of spiritual intensity and so on. Really not soimportant. A subjective fancy.oFurthermore, Mr. Eustis, despite what you are thinking and whatthe newspapers will imply, | am not unbalanced. On the contrary, | amdisgustingly sane. My actions are the product of much rationalforethought. For you see, Mr. Eustis, | am actively combatting themyth of the futility of modern man.?EustisT eyes rolled under heavy lids toward Harry. He ran his tongueover his lips. When he spoke, his voice was pinched and weak.~WWh-why are you doing this? You'll never get away with somethinglike this.?Harry exhaled a haze of blue smoke and tapped an ash into the tray.~Do you believe in God, Mr. Eustis??Eustis squirmed nervously. oT| suppose | do.?ToWell, Mr. Eustis, |~Tm afraid | donTt. Yet"|l must"I need to"|! haveto. What sense is there to this danse macabre, Mr. Eustis, if there are no8

...the paramount gift our thinkers, artists, our men of science should labor to get for us isa sense of selfhood without resort to magic.Robert Boltgods? If they have been squashed into oblivion, pierced and analyzed asneatly and as clinically as the atom? What dignity is there in this feeblewinking into and out of existence if there are no gods to watch anddirect the momentary drama? Mr. Eustis, my poor, frightened, drowingMr. Eustis"think on it clearly for just one second. Think of yourself incontext of the endless, inky, unfathomable terms of eternity. Think ofyourself stripped naked of everything except the raw, indivisibledimension of existence, drifting directionless for an instant lasting onlylong enough to be realized by a mind that is capable"if it wishes"tosense or deduce the incredible folly and injustice of such a plight. Thinkof these things, Mr. Eustis"think of them"and tell me how they are tobe endured without the gods!Harry had progressively leaned closer and closer to Eustis. Their faceswere no more than six inches apart. Perspiration ran in rivulets downthe bank managerTs white face, although his lips were very dry.oBut why"why"?? Eustis squeezed his eyes shut. ~~What will thisdo? ThereTs nothing you can gain by doing this!?Harry stubbed out his cigarette and lit another one.oNot true, Mr. Eustis. Not true at all. In these remaining fifteenminutes of your life, there exists a very highly defined order, an orderthat weighs and directs every passing moment, an order that isimmutable even though so"ethereal. And there is an omnipotentoverseer that within the universe of these four walls is total andabsolute. So you see, Mr. Eustis"oh, | hope you do see"there can be aplot, and there can be a director, and there can be meaning. And"feel,just feel the intensity of it, Mr. Eustis! How much meaning there is justin the burning, clawing gasping intensity of these moments. In these lastthree minutes before your death, Mr. Eustis, you are probing depths noless intense than those fathomed by Bach"Van Gogh"Shakespeare"theglorious rush of insanity felt by Dostoevsky waiting to be executed...?Eustis was slumped low in his chair, his eyes squinched shut and hisface contorted in fear and helplessness. Large tears squeezed out frombetween the closed lids and rolled with the sweat down his cheeks. Hisvoice was now a low sob, inflected with the pitiful breaking of a mantalking to no one in particular.oOh God oh God. DonTt please donTt. Please donTt. ThereTs noreason. | donTt"| donTt understand. | donTt understand, Please. Oh Godplease...?THarry blinked twice and bit his lower lip.oYou see, Mr. Eustis, thereTs something else connected to our verycritical need for the gods"something else which | perhaps have beenunfair in keeping from you. And that is: how could | allow, how could| possibly permit the existence of gods without being one myself??Eustis continued sobbing quietly, his eyes still screwed shut. Harryground his second cigarette into the ashtray. Leaning back, he raisedthe pistol to within an inch of EustisT forehead.oGoodbye, Mr. Eustis,? he said and squeezed the trigger. A flash oforange and black barked forth, and a red pulp appeared where the bankmanagerTs face had been. Harry stared for only a moment and thenplace the pistol muzzle against his own right temple.oGoodbye, God,? he whispered, pulling the trigger again. The worldflashed white.9" I AEE EAE lc

/pepto-bismol blues /in the summer of his sicknesswith uncles approaching in the nightholding up their gownscoming to watch the falling away of fleshhis hair fell whitelyagainst the gray frayed carpethis eyes would bleed into the wineand the parents gathered togetherto hold his tongueso he wouldn't gag on the chantingthe singing of his new-born boredomwhen he lay stretchedacross an immensely sterile questionchained by the either-orTsspitting up the flesh of dead saintsonto the hungry earthwhen he pulled out his convictionseach by the rootand burned them in a laughing firewhen he said"(death is innocentlife is sadly allthere is no god to blameonly the rushing wind)but these ravings rocked the doctorattending at his sidewith frigid fingers fondlingand the minister's face froze with fearbut the tattered sister blind-child dancedand ran out into the waiting stormidiot carl the butcherTs boykicked the bedpansmiling into the spilled suffering11

iilcalgrenNTcanNRAIN THOUGHTSDampened are you who sheds tears;Resolute in purpose, for tears must fall.Yet they fall in a feeble parley upon the scorched earth,Descending upon the sights below you"upon the sightlessBeyond you"upon the sighted beside you.For who but the sighted can see? Who but the sightedCan know your power, strong against each, yet weakAgainst all? Who but the sighted can be awed by theirOwn ghastly presence, their coarse cacophony of life?Shed your drippy fabric, for you, too, will fall prey toThe forest-takers, the land-eaters, the river-killersAnd the other earth-gods. You, too, will become lifeless,Unsustaining.Your death has its revenge:The earth will lose its gods as the gods lose their world.Your re-birth awaits only a signal from Time.And Time has no gods.UMO1Ig UPLLION~Auyaod Ajuo si a4ay} /soydejaw e AjuOsi BulyzAJAAZ oAWIOIIAAO ~adualIs pue YyIaads ~paap Pue P4sOM ~Apog pue pull uaamjag AuousijUue ay |

A revolution that expects you to sacrifice yourself for it is one of DaddyTs revolu tions.Slogan on a wallSNOWfurthe furof a biting, clawinglife givingthinglife eatingtricksit trickshow well it trickscovering itself overin prickly mysterycome to mebegs melike a wet, hungry dogbegs meto come insidelay by the firefall asleepsatisfiedbelly full of death13

Watching Sally Die| remember once when we all went down to BillyTs house to watchSally Rogers die. Death to us kids was just a game where somebodypointed a finger and went Bang! Bang! and we fell down and lay stillfor a minute and then broke up into giggles. It was lots of fun, and wewere all going down to BillyTs house to watch Sally Rogers die.Real death was something that happened only to people becausethey were old and had a bad heart or something like that. We didn'tknow what this oPO LIO-MY-E-LI-TIS?T was that Sally had, but sinceshe was little like us, she couldn't really die. So, we were all going downto BillyTs house to watch Sally Rogers play ~~die.?TJimmy Briggs said that if it would help out olT Sally, heTd give her akiss on the cheek like the Prince did in Snow White, but heTd bust hellout of anybody who laughed. We all allowed as how just this once we'dlet it slide by.Missy Johnson said that last night her mom had told her to say alittle prayer for Sally. That made us feel that maybe things were a littlemore serious if such drastic measures were required. But, Missy'smother always was the emotional type, and we were still going down toBillyTs house to watch Sally Rogers die.15

We got there, but Doc Johnson wouldn't let us in the room becausewhat Sally had was ~~can...CON-TA-GIOUS.? So, we stood around realquiet like, watching BillyTs mom and dad cry.Billy told Johnny Green to stop picking his nose because it wasnTtpolite with Sally sick and his parents around. And, we tried not tolaugh when Stevie Williams broke wind........ , and Sally Rogers died....| was passing through home not too long ago and stopped by to seeBillyTs folks. Old Mr. Rogers seemed real glad to see me. He came,grinning, down off the porch to shake my hand and ask me how | was. |said fine and told him a little about my job as a salesman for thetobacco company. He said that he thought it was good that | was doingso well and that he knew my parents were real proud of me. | laughed itoff and said thanks.| asked what he had heard from Billy, and all at once, the joy in hiseyes died. His smile kind of faded, and he looked tired and old when hesaid they had lost Billy over in Vietnam about a month ago. A suddensense of unexplained loss took hold of me way down deep and refusedto let go. Billy had always been my friend and his dadTs briefpronouncement caused a painful emptiness to flood through me. Mr.Rogers tried to get me to come on in to say hello to BillyTs mom, but |didn't feel much like it anymore. So, | said no, maybe next time: ITvegot to be on my way. We shook hands once more, and he asked meplease to stop by again soon.With the rain beginning to fall, | started back to Raleigh that nightand got to thinking about Sally and Billy and all the fun we used tohave. Like the time we got Sally to stand in front of the CarolinaTheater and cry and kick up a fuss while we sneaked past the ushers.When a crowd had gathered, Billy calmly walked out and said she wasjust his little sister and that she must have wandered outside and gottenscared. Everyone laughed, and the ticket-taker took them inside andbought them some popcorn and Coke. Billy gave me half of his. Itwasn't long after that that Sally got sick.Billy and me stayed friends the whole time we were growing up, andit had just been since he had gone to ~Nam that we had lost touch. Thenight before he went overseas, we sat at my place in Raleigh and drankbeer. We talked about all the things we wanted to do, and | told him |could probably get him a job selling cigarettes after he got out of theArmy. We both thought that it would be fun to live together. Billy saidthat maybe one day we could even go into business for ourselves.Raleigh was a growing community, and there was lots of opportunity.Pulling into Fuquay, | thought about how things never seem to workOut quite like you plan them. In the back of my mind, | had figured onBilly showing up in a few months and us taking up where we had leftoff. But, that wasnTt possible anymore. | drove into the Burger Chef toget myself a hamburger before | went home. Walking through the door,| blinked the salty wetness out of my eyes and wondered if anybodyhad been watching,the day Billy died.16

SandA handful of eternity from the coliseum floorRuns through stiff fingers.LifeTs blood soaks up, drop by drop,The thirstTs never quenched.Countless grains, like years, flow and continueWhile man, bloodless, dies.MY TREASURED DISGRACESTiny doodlers doodle my wallsWith silly names, addresses, and places.Fat old ladies dance down my hallsWhispering my treasured disgraces.In delicate perfection | tie my shoesWith turned up toes to a mirrored tip.A jelly bean rids me of my bluesAnd checks to see that my tongue doesnTt slip.Lilacs and roses and lily-greased lovers"A mistress steals away in shame.A strap of her gown falls over her shoulder.She whispers to me, oThe /iquorTs to blame.?17

Dialogues"PhilosophyoLook, see this scarf? ITm going to print my face in it"Magdalene??oNo, Veronica, Veronica, she was the one who held up her veil forJesusT face.?ToThat was only because he hadnTt washed in four days.?oYou're trying to make Christ human, like you! Impossible!oITm not human!?oThank God, thank God!?We are bantering marvelously, brilliantly, two runaway stars;yet, in what you call your ~extravagant imagination? you are cryingthe wind, babies wheezing in the night, a ghost who lives in a guitarand an eight-year-old boy fishing in a creek with a broom handle fora pole and some twine tied to asafety pin; all through your head there are dashing fireworks anddisconnected electrical wires, smoking guns, meteors larger and moreexplosive than our dialogues; you arewearing a monkey suit to a wedding, you are pulling a toy knife inyour psychiatristTs office, you are lying to me about your lastname and where your parents came from, so that | may never traceyou to the threads of your tongue, you are gobbling all the best cookiescreating people out ofTJello and glue with red beads for their eyes, you are lying andyou are ashamed.oThose words walked right out of my stomach at the time,at the top of my head | was thinking something else.?ToScared of succeeding in becoming close to me, appearingimpervious because you are afraid of seeing yourself as vulnerable,what kind of philosophy is that?TT~o~My dear, you sound much too poetic.?oYou could at least say that youTve known me a hundred years.TToThe Hundred Years War? Aha, aha!TYou will pace the room as if you were having a child and you arethe child, | will slip your religions between the strings of a mightycatTs cradle, you will prance and kiss me on the forehead and walkout the door, never knowing that I've glimpsed the pin-ball gamein concert going on behind your eyes, never coming back and never knowingthat today"and always"| will know you.19

cael;whcattakeeae

An Lupeblished LETIER to the Edi rorHegelThe letter quoted herein was found unfit for publication by the Cleanville newspaper, The LilliputianTimes (All the news thatTs fit for the small mind). It was decided by the editor and staff that although theletter was written by a member of the silent majority, it did not truly reflect the views of a majority of themajority. Two weeks after this decision, the letters to the editor were discontinued altogether in order toexpand the sports seetion.Deane Mer. Editor,Iam writing yoo this letter in hopes that »t+ willbe pul (Ww fhe Plt Pez J havt lived aight here HvCleeiville aft Mae [Fe , excep? Fo. Mek ley whereZT was born. Z READ your PA Pere CVERYAR Y / but: wok the.want-ads, Lecausea Ls dou bry second " hand StvFFLxworet in a Araer, 60F £2 wort Mentor Yhe warms of "Sebetas Lent GlOF fIA% POPS p geF jw Frtovbseevi WA She FcCc- Bvt 2. Gr wki wg Fiast Yo Fe // Leexg9S~9~?4SDdNnA)>Sosist)ok&S8)ah,o_S~QSQ~©ww&Q©So~&§®nN9S2D°~2)=Aiwcpnvek £ Kied youn ?,?al-foaca/ ow foug hans. £ Agnee.Kou ought fw see Some of Them Yak Come ca Kobe Arwekyethene ee Qn Mang gen oF Ste hatteg K Fas CHEUs They look tad ~Fo/ (ancl Ack Worse).Seconcdd, LT am waiting fo cComplar a aboot QnotheR StoRF inFoun het bas Stele ovr ad vernTiSi Ag CAMPALGN - Thee yeresAgo, Hanold was approache L by A tA Selling Ke oxd egAdver F's EMEMts Foe ust ow Pre Radio, Thes&= Ads wERESinging ONES, aad the man premise R Harold. fue For #Wye? fe would get Q 30 second sing ig Qd made hy &couwT hy muste str. hat had fad ar Jeasx avE RECORKoot. He. Ad weld be Wwe Thea ard RECRAFO jalNashville, ano we would get /0 copies. Herold pridRe a are got- it. Harsld has beew Rv AMC ag Wis AD

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No substance can turn into naughtThe eternal stirs in everything...The moment is eternity.MINOR KEYHey, boys, put me in a minor key.Some fool is in my basementSinging do re me.My stomach hurts and you wantTo play the hunter shoots Bambi.Who hung all the glitter coveredBeer cans around here so you couldBump your damn head everytime youTurn around to see some skin.Call that waitress whoTs got thetray of mirrors at a nickel a look./ want one.GatsbyTs Illusionlike an illicit party at GatsbyTs,desperate children wander streets and alleys"clutchingcryinglaughing"forever seeking that good time which will comeno more33

34/cafe song/the sun is dead hot"air allows no relief"maybe a wind can save us now-the tilted table where we're sitting...and you're reading the scrawled initials...while i explain the gods away"the ribs of empty beer cans crushed...glinting in the smoke of boredomdead flies flounder in the splattered foam-tobacco butts broken against our soles"heat hangs around our necks...pushing its scalding tongue...against our unwilling ears"the sun is still and screamingwhile watching you move an emptycloser to the edge of the table"not to balance...but to topple...rattling against the bubbling floor beneath"and then i knew i wanted to touch you...but you'd gone to the bathroom so quickly...i didnTt even notice"i listened to the whirring of the ridiculous fans"(only the wind can save us nowonly that")

36EDITORTS NOTE: to be read aloud with strains ofoOnward Christian Soldiers? echoing softly in thebackground.Some glad morning when this life is over,lll fly awayTo a land where everyone can hope,/~Il fly away, fly away"-Traditional HymnSo, this is Death. Only a certain hazy awareness, a floatingsense of being no more. In the blueness of DeathTs arms, | am lyingquietly"waiting, holding on to this lifeless body for only a littlelonger.A fancy coffin, | must admit. Why have they opened its velvet-lined length so that my glazed eyes want to see, but cannot? There isonly that strange swirling feeling of no longer existing.| sense they have folded those cold hands placidly upon mysilent breast; my face is no longer contorted by the horrible grimaceof Death. | imagine | must look much like any other cold, rotting corpse.| feel them treading now, onward marching. Christian soldiersmarching as to...to what? They are desperate to understand Death, tofathom his deep mysteries. Afraid, yet drawn onward to convince themselvesthat what ITve done is wrong. Onward they march, awkward in theirsilence, foolish in mourning."DoesnTt he look natural?So true, Mrs. Sherman. Perhaps Death is the most natural postureof man, stripping him of his absurdities.

ItTs so sad and shocking. He was only twenty-one.Yes, Aunt Doris, | died before | had even lived. | guess itTs sadthat it had to end as it did. So many dreams, visions of days andnights in a future now passed."He was such a wonderful person. | cannot believe he had nothingto live for.Thank you, Reverend McSwain, thatTs quite a touching comment fromone who hated me, yet stood over a tired pulpit every Sunday preachinglove to a straying flock. Quite touching."Look, Mama. His watch is even running.Amazing, eh, Susie? | donTt guess you have realized yet that Timeis chasing you, too. Run, little child, run fast."|! loved him so much. | remember so many wonderful times we spenttogether.Bullshit, dear Cathy. How can you shed those tears and gush thatcrap over a body you used and tossed away? Goddamn, how is it thatlies that cause Death can even live after?- He was a good son. Why, oh, why did he do such a thing?~ll miss you, dear parents. Finally now that | can no longerembrace you or speak with you, | realize your love. | used to worryabout how | would act when you died, but now | have left you to sufferover a question even | cannot truly answer.The Christian soldiers are leaving now, still shuffling softly asif in respect. They will eat and talk now, perhaps some will cry andothers will laugh. They are through with Death for awhile. They haveworshipped and paid homage.| have lingered long enough in my uncertainty. | think | shallflee this stiffening body now and move on into the beckoning blueness.| do not know what awaits when | shed this cold body. Perhaps it wasonly a cocoon. Or perhaps it is all there is or shall be.| do not know cannot know"what awaits. But it should be"please,it must be"better.

PythagorasOld PythagorasYou with the golden thighYou who invented the lyreWhat did you have to goTinkering with the spheres forYou with your ideaOf the music of the spheresThe presumption of menTo talk about their imaginingsAs if they were realAnd foist these imaginingsOn the whole human racea ey mieRi rupee aren ee pa ae38

e. e. cummingsYou pays your money and you doesn't get to choose: ainTt freedom grand.LOVERShe wasnTt the kind of girl to go around wearingSunday massages,but when half of your Soul is gone, you have to grow New._..or so the Star of the Universe lied.

CREDITSEE SE! A? EME AS Greg Resler--typographic design, Glenn LewisJoe Brannona ovvchcvccnccesaencrenoone design, Glenn Lewisook vsckcsasivshsspueshinssccnoeiinnees Joe Brannonob sickisesssensi cc ss Glenn Lewiseee ae EE Archie Gasterro ibeceele ps Archie Gasteree ee Archie GasterES ee A ie centerfold, Thomas Hainesi iss sessnnnonssnscatsavscsonses Joe BrannonCO SS, ui iiiecccsccesvccsonsecenes Archie Gastera RES SHON SSS i ean US DS aenremmer neem ecn renee painting, Danny Hilloo ooovvcacéscocsesicooncnnn illustration, Judi BradfordLEO illustration, Judi Bradford0 staff photo, Joe BrannonlM ll design, Glenn LewisSpecial thanks and apologies to Bicycle Playing Cards and Arm andHammer Baking Soda.