belong e'zine

Well, I set out to do this months and months ago but I wasn't writing
anything and no one was giving me anything so I was stuck with nothing..
but I managed to scrap some things together, nagged people till I got some
articles, and here it is; belong, issue one.  Perhaps the one thing that
made this the hardest to get out was the fact that I wasn't giving any
ideas of what belong would be about.  That is because belong is a zine
about you.  Not stories of happenings but articles of what people are best
at writing.  I got what I wanted and I'm giving it to all of you.  There
is a big doubt about if belong issue two will ever come out.  I would like
to do more so if anyone would like to be a part of this zine e-mail
submissions to pixy@wwti.iway.net.  Where do you belong? 

#1   Invisible Cars - Puck
#2   Die, trendy die - pixy
#3   Them - pixy
#4   The Drug User's Cookbook - styx
#5   Message Box [311] - pixy
#6   Enough - pixy
#7   The Uninterupted Tale of Thomas Wyatt - Puck
#8   Why I hate dto, With love - pixy
#9   Untitled - Sir Robin
#10  Them Fun BBS's - Maureen, lb, pixy, Puck


Invisible Cars
Puck

So she was a poet,
yes,
in the sense that she had certain books
published.  Certain books
and 
certain poems.

But she wore dark nylons
and crossed her legs.
She didn't understand that
if cars were all invisible,
we'd look pretty silly 
just zooming up and down the 
street
like that.

So she was a poet,
yes,
in the sense that she had published
certain books.

----->

Die trendy, die
pixy

     When I was little I had the most bizarre thoughts.  I would play with
my Barbie dolls all day long.  My blue eyes glazed over, my blond hair in
pigtails with Mickey and Minnie mouse holding them in place.

     I would be lost in thought playing so intensely with that fake
haired, hard plastic, painted on featured doll.  Her moves, thoughts, and
clothing choices were all my doing.  But I would stop and think "what if
we, humans, were just like Barbie and Ken dolls?"  Yeah, sure we can bend
at the joints, we have mushy surfaces, and some of us are pretty damned
ugly.

     Just stop and think about that. 

     Well, the older I got, the more I saw that we _are_ like dolls.  Our
thoughts and actions are very much influenced by others. 

     "du0d, red hair dye is so uncool, maybe like a week ago you were cool
but _now_?!@#"

     I admit that I am a follower and not a leader.  But there is someone
who went too far in categorizing me by saying "you owe your personality to
me." There is still little bits and pieces of the real me left.  It wasn't
all eaten up by trendiness.  Someday I will gain my whole self back, but
for now I am a typical teenager.

     But where do you rank?  Take the trendy lamer quiz. 


     1) Are you a teenager?

     2) Are you and your best friend clones of each other?

     3) Do you try to match your outfit to what Jenny McCarthy wore on the
        last Singled Out?

     4) Do you go places because you heard the "cool group" was going to
        be there?

     5) Do you listen to a band and like them but suddenly stop listening
        because people say they suck?


     If you answered yes to one or more of these questions then you are a
lame trendy loser and should get your own personality, moron.  If you said
no to them all you probably are still a trendy.  You're on irc, no? 
Loser!@#

     Being trendy is a fact of life with growing up in the United States. 
Other countries go more with their ancestry and shit.  But we go with
what's cool.  That's how it goes I suppose.  Someday we all will be real;
granted, we'll be old and gray, running around the house with our pants
pulled up to our chest; but we will finally be ourselves.

----->

Them
pixy
	
     I hate this place.  I know I am becoming weaker and dying because of
it.  But I can't leave.  I know that the world will keep spinning if I am
not here.  I would still like to believe it wouldn't.  Maybe that's why I
didn't go away to school.  Maybe that's why I end things before they can
take me away.

     I hate this place and all it scars me with.  They made me who I am. 
They gave me these eyes that no longer tear.  They twisted my soul like a
kinked garden hose.  I blame them for every scar.  She'll say she's
perfect while calling me crazy.  He'll be in his t.v. set gaze as I try to
speak.

     I hate this place.  It is why I have tried to drain myself of the
evil.  It is why I scream into the morning hours.  I stay away like a
vampire, searching for something to make me alive again, or to make the
scars fade.  Just as the sun rises I creep into bed, ending the search for
that day.  Tomorrow I will start again.

     It is why I lost my dreams.  As I dread the coming wake, I see
nothing.  My body sleeping but mind is blank of which should be filled
with pretend movies.  Movies that only return when I am away from here.
But I still feel homesick when I am away.  It's not because I miss them or
this place, but because I miss her, my 'daughter,' my niece. 

     I hate this place because every day I have to try to make a fake
identity.  I have already failed at that.  I have tried to lead an online
life that would hide who I really am.  But it's come out like I am a slut,
or a bitch, or whatever.  'Sticks and stones may break my bones but names
will never hurt me.'  But if I can come off like a bitch, maybe no one
will mess with me.  Maybe one day everything will be o.k. 

     Keep hiding who you are.  Keep pretending it's o.k., maybe someday
you'll love yourself enough to not want to grab a razor.  This slow death
will have to do because there has to be just one who loves you.  Just one
who will miss you.  Just one who won't say 'you suck.'  To that one:  I
love you.

----->

The Drug User's Cookbook
styx

     this is for those of you who want to do drugs but are too piss-poor
to buy them.  most people aren't aware that you can simulate the effects
of any drug with common household items.  however, i have listed only the
more popular drugs.  if you need any information on how to simulate the
effects of a drug that isn't included here, feel free to email me at
styx@magicbus.com.  i guarantee a response. 


1.  LSD 

    you'll need      :  can of gasoline, hammer
    minor requisites :  trophies from extra-curricular sports activities in 
                        high school, pink floyd albums

    instructions:  put on a pink floyd album.  huff the gasoline rapidly for
                   30 seconds without stopping.  when you're finished, take
                   the hammer and slam it into your skull until your head is
                   a mangled mass of bloody pulp.  now you are having an
                   intense acid trip.

    warning:  if you don't kill yourself, you'll wake up mentally retarded in
              the morning.


2.  marijuana

    you'll need      :  rolling papers, dirt, modem
    minor requisites :  birkenstocks, grateful dead albums, rolling machine  

    instructions:  put on a grateful dead album.  take some dirt and roll it
                   up with a piece of rolling paper into a cigarette (if you
                   are very stupid and cannot do this, use the rolling
                   machine).  smoke it.  when you are finished, go online,
                   hold your breath, and cross your eyes while you type.
                   annoy everybody.  when your face feels hot and you've lost
                   all of your cyberfriends, you are really stoned.
              
    warning:  if you don't kill yourself, you'll wake up mentally retarded in
              the morning.


3.  mushrooms

    you'll need      :  meat cleaver, broken kaleidescope
    minor requisites :  older brother, mustang 5.0

    instructions:  slice off all of your toes with the meat cleaver.  when
                   your legs start to tingle from loss of blood, stare into
                   the broken kaleidescope for 15 minutes (20 if you're fat).
                   when you begin to lose consciousness, write insightful
                   poetry (quickly).  now you are shrooming.  

    warning:  if you wake up in the morning, you didn't follow directions.


4.  cocaine

    you'll need      :  coffee, pixie sticks, dr. pepper, chocolate
    minor requisites :  rich jewish parents, white college hat

    instructions:  drink 10 cups of coffee, eat 10 pixie sticks, guzzle 10
                   cans of dr. pepper, and eat a lot of chocolate.  when you
                   start to bleed out of your eyes, go hang out by the
                   payphones at your local 7-11.  ask everybody for cigarette
                   money.  throw tantrums.  when you end up behind the
                   dumpster with bootmarks on your face, and you're trembling
                   too much to get on your feet, you are all coked up.

    warning:  if you don't kill yourself, you'll wake up mentally retarded in
              the morning.


5.  heroin

    you'll need      :  paint, paintbrush, canvas, lack of sleep
    minor requisites :  small dirty apartment, velvet underground albums

    instructions:  put on velvet underground.  paint pictures of naked people
                   until you're so tired you start vomiting.  after you vomit
                   everything and you just dry heave, shit and piss all over
                   yourself.  now you are fucked up on heroin.

    warning:  if you don't kill yourself, i'll do it for you.


6.  quaaludes

    you'll need      :  physically abusive father, draino 
    minor requisites :  no friends, syd barrett albums

    instructions:  listen to syd barrett for an hour.  when you're finished,
                   kick your dad in the head so he starts beating the shit
                   out of you.  if he stops, kick him in the head again so he 
                   continues beating the shit out of you.  repeat until the
                   pain detector in your brain shuts down from overload.  now
                   wait for your dad to stop beating the shit out of you.
                   when he's finished, crawl to the kitchen and guzzle draino
                   until you can't breathe.  now you are fucked up on ludes.
                   
    warning:  if you don't kill yourself, you'll wake up mentally retarded in
              the morning.


     if some items listed are not found in your household, there's something
wrong with you and your family.  do not request information on ways to
simulate nitrous or i will hunt you down and smoke you.

     i take no responsibility for the consequences of your actions.  the
warnings are included for a reason.

----->

Message Box [311]
pixy

Illinois Bell and plastic combs.
Mirror glances. Fearing the moans.

Living for free.
Lighting that cigarette off that burning family tree.

"I promise to love you forever... or, until I change my mind."
"I saw your soul on the el tracks today."
"Did you ever just think? Because I hate you and you never thought about it."
"The naked world rules."

What is a guido sanchez?  If anyone can fill me in on the details of this 
person, place, or thing I am willing to pay BIG bucks.  mail u311 with 
info.

End [311]

----->

Enough
pixy

I see you again
and it's back.
The weakness is back,
the control you have over me.

Oh baby, you'll never know.
Fade away, I'd say.

Those bright eyes,
so bright they make me blind.
So bright I can't see that you don't love me.
But I like pretending all the same.
Such a game we play.
I can't justify the hate,
but it's love.
This contradiction, my confusion.

Just fade away, I'd say.
Oh baby, you'll never know,
control, so easily over me.
Never known the control.

----->

The Uninterrupted Tale of Thomas Wyatt
Puck

Thomas Wyatt always thought 
his life was a dead-end loss.
He worked all day in his dead-end job
and he fought with his dead-end boss.  
Until, one day it dawned on him
as he stared into the sink;
He looked his boss right in the eye
and said, "Be right back, I need to think."

Thomas went home and thought for hours,
hours melted into days.
For weeks and weeks he searched and searched,
so meticulous in his ways.
The people of his town began to worry,
his boss even said,
"Mr. Wyatt's not shows up for work,
I fear he's dead!"

The newspaper arrived 
to get an interview with Tom,
But nobody could get inside,
not even Tom's old Mom.
The doors were locked, the shades were shut.
So cloaked in mystery
was Thomas's goal, his lawn became
a home for NewsTV.

People everywhere began 
to wonder about this bunk
that the news was spreading
bout the thoughts that Thomas thunk.
The business man, the working man,
they came from far away,
with the tiny glint of hope they might
hear what Thomas had to say.

For ten whole years the people waited
to hear what he might say
as he stepped out of his shadowed house
to greet the light of day.
For ten whole years the world's attention
pointed at Tom's door,
For ten whole years the children wore
the shoes that Thomas wore.

But ten years of waiting was not very fun
and quickly became quite a bore.
the numbers of people camped on his lawn
grumbled and vehemently swore,
"We're tired of this.  Will he ever come out?
What can he be doing in there?"
And just as they were about to leave,
out crept some bones and some hair.

Out crept some bones and some hair, for Thomas
had not eaten so well.
His eyes were buggy, his nails were long,
and he sported that "ten-year old" smell.
He was not wearing clothing, 'cept maybe his glasses,
But nobody seemed to care:
There wasn't much chance of being exposed 
when covered with ten years of hair.

It was then that the silence which covered the land
was broken, a noise rather cross;
as a pudgy man shoved people away with his hand,
Thomas's ten-year ex-boss.
"Ok, Thomas, what's the deal?  Why have you kept us ten years?
This better be good, this better be great!"
And the people broke out into tears.

"What have you learned?  What can you teach?"
begged the impatient crowd.
Thomas squinted and waved his hand, 
"Please, not so loud.
I'll tell what I've learned, I'll teach what I can,
and I promise you it's worth your while.
Ten years have I thought, Ten years have I sought,"
Thomas explained with a smile.

He raised his long finger high above his head,
and into the sun's blazing light. 
He started to speak, but his eyes looked confused,
"Oh wait, no, that's not right.
No, that's not right at all," Thomas said,
and the crowd was as still as a mouse.
"Sorry to keep you, but I've got it all wrong."
He turned back into his house.

"I'll just be a little while, I promise, 
and next time I'll have it all right.
It seems I forgot to carry some digits,
(I get kind of careless some nights.)"

With this Thomas shut and re-locked his door,
and fell dead, having tripped on his hair;
unseen by the people camped out on his lawn.

As far as I know, they're still there.

----->

Why I hate dto
        With love,
               pixy

     O.K.  dto sucks!@#  Why?  Why, you ask?  Let's start with the 'inner
circle' retards.  First off the 'top' man mogel (he's probably really a
bottom man <wink><wink>).  Well, mogel nags me every other freaking day to
write for dto and I always say no, why?  DTO SUCKS!@#  So, if little Mikey
asks me one more time I'll shove his precious ramen noodles into his
penis, dry.  I'd say 5 or so cause that's gotta be thick enough to cause
pain.

     "you'd have to touch it then!@#!@#" 

     SIMMER DOWN, GOOSHY!@#

     Moving along... ahh jamesy, my best friend, the one who asked me to
write this.  Well... he's a cocksucker, always will be, but I love him
anyway (yes, I have a fucker fetish coughgweedscough).  So, I of course
told jamesy to shove it when he asked me, cause it was for dto, but I
decided to write it anyway.  What do I have to lose?  If it doesn't get
into dto then oh well (which it won't and you'll read it in BELONG, my
zine ;))

     Finally, murmur.  I don't know what his deal is.  So, he does bucket.
I've never read it, and I don't think I ever will.  Butts!  That's all I
have to say about that.  (Like my Forrest Gump impression?) 

     (If I forgot any other 'inner circle' fags, sorry!  I'm sure you
wanted to be a part of my rip.  You just must not have pissed me off. 
SMOOCHIES!@#)

     Enough of that. 

     Now, the "quality control."  Totally understandable for a great zine
like dto!@#... but what they pick out as good sucks ass.  Possibly just a
few issues back I would have said:

     "du0d, dto rules!  If dto had a penis I'd suck it!"  (believe you me,
sucking dick isn't my favorite thing to do).

     But as of late they've been getting sloppy.  Maybe all the writers
have writer's block and can't help it and this has been the best stuff but
I don't believe that.  I know there are good writers out there.  So, it's
THEM.

     You getting all this?  o.k., good.  Do you see how evil dto is?  Stop
being brainwashed!@#  Love ya lots!

----->

Untitled
Sir Robin

I found the one I love today,
Just sitting over there.
I went up to the one I love today,
and we sat there.
I talked to the one I love today,
as we sat there.
Then I found the one I love today,
as they were playing.
And when I said "I love you" to the one I love today,
The one I love today said "I love you too!"

----->

Them Fun BBS's
Maureen, lb, pixy, Puck

Welcome to the Chicago MatchMaker

You may possibly match with 39,002 men and 4,208 women on the network! 

-> What is your sex?
+> Female

-> What is your sexual preference? 
+> Bisexual

-> How old are you? 
+> 18

-> Have you had, or would you consider having a homosexual experience?
+>  I am homophobic.

-> Finally, why did you call?
+>  Scouting out for swinging couples

Try to describe the type of person you might be interested in meeting? 
(either romantically or platonically)

->someone with home and also a comb
->i prefer he have some hair and clean underwear
->he likes to eat white rice and doesn't have head lice
->lice, i mean tick and he better not be a spic
->he has no open sores he likes to hang with whores
->he cannot be a gimp and he better be a pimp
->he likes loiter and has a big goiter
->he likes to rant and preforms sexual transplants
->he very open hearted his children are retarded

Describe your personality type?  What type are you attracted to? 

->i like abusive people who can get it up and knows the value of a good
->leather mask but no slanty eyed people

What's the FIRST thing others notice about you? 

->my goiter

Where have you met most of your current friends? 

->i met them in jail

What type of work do you do and are you enjoying it? 

->i am a prostitute and i love it

Name some of your favorite Singers and Bands ? 

->I like them bums who play in the subway especially yodeling zeke

What were your favorite toys as a child? 

-> my mommy's happy stick

Do you collect anything?  (e.g. stamps, coins, dust, losers)

->used condoms (preferably with the cum still in it)

If you have any pets, what are they and what are their names? 

->flecity and lucifer, they are my finger friends

If you could pick a super-human power what would you choose? 

->to set fire to peoples and the plastic mans penis

Have you ever accomplished anything that got your name on television, in a
magazine, etc?  What was it you did? 

->Guiness Book of World Records: chicken raping (I raped 2270 chickens)

Do you belong to any organizations/clubs/teams? 

->I belong to the Black Panthers, the neo-aryans, NAAWP (National
->Association of Advancement of White People), and PETA (People Eating
->Tasty Animals)

Write your own personal ad as it would appear in the personal section of a
newspaper? 

->5'1" 85lbs 
->baby, i got back 
->I am HIV+ but enjoy unprotected sex

What are some of your lifelong goals? 

->I hope to find a dumpster with a lid or a cardboard box that is water
->proof.  I would also like to participate in the crack baby javelin throw. 

Is there anything about you that the questionnaire didn't cover? 

->that's everything, I hope you love me!@#

----->

All articles are property of the writer, used with permission.  If anyone
gets any stupid ideas from this zine, then you are a fucking retard.  I
nor any of the writers take responsiblity.

Submit to pixy@wwti.iway.net.  If your writing sucks, don't bother or I
will put it in anyway for a good laugh.  (yes, my articles are for a good
laugh). 

