neko's welcome -------------- hi. this is the first issue of funky llama club. maybe it will be the last. the purpose of this is basically to just throw a lot of stuff into the open. i haven't been online for about 8 months, and am just getting back into the groove. i hope i have a lot to write, but i know that anything i write will not exactly be appropriate for dto. i plan to throw in a lot of stuff i've written since last august, as well as some journal entries and other various stuff. if this appears to be a useless hodgepodge of information to you, you're right. i *am* just throwing things in here without rhyme or reason. i am also refraining from editing this stuff. what you see is what i wrote. i don't know if there will be a flc #2, maybe a one-shot thing will be enough. maybe not. we'll see. actually - the only reason i am writing this zine is to get on people's auto-op lists on #zines. i hate not having ops. i am a power hungry motherfucker. okay. well. enjoy the issue. or don't. index ----- 01 ... neko's welcome 02 ... girl problems 03 ... january 1st, 1996 04 ... blabber 05 ... january 2nd, 1996 06 ... musical death 07 ... january 3rd, 1996 08 ... wargames story 09 ... january 4th, 1996 10 ... the story to end all stories girl problems ------------- (neko's note: i wrote this in february of 1995. it has never been published, but i want to tell you -- i feel like oj). December 20, 1994 could have been a happy day for me. It could have been the start of something ... something wonderful. But no. Now December 20 is etched in my memory as a shitty day. This story actually starts in September, 1994. School starts. The girl sitting in front of me in College Algebra is beautiful, smart, and had a good (or so I thought) personality. Perfect, right? But me, being the shy geek I am, couldn't talk to her. Over Labor Day weekend, I saw her and I was with a friend. He told me something humorous about her, and that allowed me to talk to her the following Monday. Well, after months of dreaming and fantasizing, I got the courage to "ask her out." Still shy, I did not do this in the usual way. I dubbed "lovey" songs from my collection of CDs. Maybe some of the songs were too much (sample lyrics: "You're just the girl of my dreams, but it seems that my dreams never come true" - Girl Dreams by Beck). Hell, I don't know. All I know is that she didn't call me on the 20th. Or say anything to me about my proposal at school on the 21st. Or on the phone that night. Or in *ANY* of our conversations up until December 26th. Everytime I called her after that she was always busy doing something. Always promising to call me back. Never doing so. It is now February 2nd and I am still without an answer. I just wish I know why I never even got a no. That would be better than the nothing I am receiving. Did someone tell her she wouldn't be "cool and popular" anymore if she talked or went out with me? Did she think I was kidding? I'd like to end this with a big FUCK YOU to all the assholes out there who do shit like this. They may not realize it, but it hurts. Bad. january 1st, 1996 -- 12:40AM ---------------------------- happy new year. asked my parents for permission to leave school via letter on 12-30. no mention yet. saw kathleen carroll on 12-27, sent her a letter on 12-29. if it didn't arrive on the 30th, then it won't get there until tomorrow. (this letter basically said, "hi, i'm lame call me). will i be called? who knows. spent the last 90+ minutes tying to type in the damned program for eternity, no luck. megan's party (12-29), by no fault of her own, was the torture i expected it to be. do i really appear to be all together? i mean, no one has tried to help me - and i think i might need it. more later. 8:02PM just another day. nothing out of the ordinary. no phone calls. no visitations. i'm beginning to question my existence. i had a dream. it was x-mas morning, no mom + dad. scott + katie each got a dog, katie's had blue hair and eyes, scott's was shy. i went to cherryvale mall where some group i'm in meets. the only person i remember recognizing was Jen. ugh. Then I tried calling home frmo these odd payphones. dialed our number, but got someone else. that's all i remember. blabber (11-09-95) ------------------ this is it. the end of it all. no more voices. screaming down the hall. ringing bells. in their own little hells. twisting sisters. killing blisters. blithering idiots one and all. are you ready for the fall. tear down the wall. and face your fear. the evidence is clear. made in taiwan. or japan. it's all the same. you sold out for fortune and fame. it's no longer a game. don't you fucking get it. january 2nd, 1996 -- 8:05PM --------------------------- by now, kathleen should've gotten my psycho letter - no phone call, oh well. i 'gave' mom my 'quit school' letter again. she said she'd discuss it with dad at the right time. If I do leave school, what will become of all the people whose lives interesect with me at school? will it strengthen or weaken our relationship. if i leave school, i will have time to learn to program (i hope) and maybe i can convince Natalie to teach me Russian while she's here. I woke up at 2:13 AM and haven't really been able to sleep since. Since I go back to school tomorrow, I feel I should mention that I haven't completed any of the Xmas break goals i set for myself: read huck ginn, learn trig, learn pascal, etc. i seem to remember a dream in which i was paranoid of someone following me. i don't know why. 11:58PM Started Huck Finn and Shut Up And Let the Lady Teach (Emily Sachar) today. the latter has kept me up, reading until now. hopefully i can fall asleep now. :) musical death ------------- why is it, whenever i get into a band, someone from it has to die? last fall, just as i started to really listen to my blind melon cds, i turn on the tv one sunday morning to hear kurt loder say, 'shannon hoon was found dead yesterday..' i don't remember the rest. i kind of blanked out. there was *so much* musical talent in that band, and he has to fuck it up with drugs. yesterday, i was on irc, and joltcola told me the lead singer of sublime (another band i've just gotten in to) died. i didn't want to believe him. i searched the web. phew. no news of any death. then, today, my friend tim calls me and tells me he just saw on mtv news that the singer of sublime was found dead. i was completely stunned. about the only thing i listen to right now is sublime's _40 oz. to freedom_ album. then i was disappointed. that this guy would let *me* down. let everyone out there down. then, within a minute, i was over it. just like that. i couldn't fucking believe the callousness of that. january 3rd, 1996 -- 7:28PM --------------------------- dead tired. no sleep recently. went back to school today. i want to leave, but i'm going to have intense goodbyes for a lot of people. i will miss them. oddly enough, the highlight of my day was in spanish class, where a girl asked Ms. Greene how to say marijuana in spanish. mike wanted to know what sort of writing i wanted for my zine. he couldn't seem to understand that it didn't matter what he wrote about. sometimes i love my life, other times, i simply abhor it. i expect some sort of dedication and respect from someone i would truly call a friend. few people seem willing to give themselves over. maybe i need to change my approach. one thing i will not miss at school will be lunch. i feel as if i have nowhere to go. i am completely uncomfortable everywhere. wargames story (1-16-96) ------------------------ "hey, baby." "go away, creep." "umm. the world's gonna end in 10 minutes, i don't want to die a virgin, do you?" "well, i guess not...." "alright! let's GET IT ON!" "what about condoms?" "who cares? we'll be dead once we cum!" but richard was wrong. the world didn't end in 10 minutes. matthew broderick and ally sheedy saved it. three months later. "you bastard! you got me pregnant! i ought to kill you!" "umm, no. that would suck. bad." but shirley had stopped caring about richard's feelings long ago. i mean, the bastard tricked her into fucking him. and without a condom. the world's going to end. yeah fucking right. she got a knife. a really big one. and shiny, too. "ohhhh, diiiicck, come here...." "what....what the fuck??? ahh ahhh ahhhhhhhhh!" but shirley paid no attention to richard's screams. she cut him up into little pieces and ate one. "yummy!" she remarked. "now its time to take care of this baby..." shirley said, to no one in particular. she then took the knife and proceeded to cut open her stomach. some stomach bile fell out, but, more importantly, so did the baby. for a moment, she marveled at how cute it was, and wanted to save it, but the umbilical cord was wrapped around it's neck, and choked it to death. oh well. shirley surveyed the mess she had made. "oh shit! richard's gonna kill me!" she exclaimed, forgetting.... "oh, wait. dick's dead. haha! motherfucker!" but she realized she still had to clean the mess up. since her stomach was still hanging open, she stuffed the dead baby and richard inside her stomach. january 4th, 1996 -- 10:04PM ---------------------------- dreamt of playing "Pucnh-Out" in the arcade - with Mike Tyson! also seem to remember driving around a camp. connection? Illinois State Board of Education replied to my letter about home schooling. apparently i can't leave school until i'm 16. bollocks. i can however get out if a parent 'teaches' me. mom said, "over my dead body." so i have a feeling i'll be in school for 90 more days at least. no support. maybe i'll be lucky enough to get kicked out! rad! but who would take me in? and why am i so damned lonely? a girl likes me. why was i told? what am i expected to do? aaaggghhh. i don't like this kind of situation. i don't deal with it well. so on one end i want more attention, then i get it and i don't want it. what is my problem? or what is THEIR problem? over the week or so preceding thanksgiving, i forged a seemingly promising friendship with Paula. what has changed? why has it changed? and why wasn't i notified. maybe i should get out of my life. the story to end all stories (11-09-95) --------------------------------------- this is the story to end all stories. like it or not. hello, my name is robert d. macmillion. yes. i lived an utterly pathetic life. until that day. the day it happened. yes. ok. exactly. it's lonely here and it smells funny. but i like it anyway. i think. or do i? maybe i really don't and i'm lying to you. you'd never know, would you? phallic here, phallic there, phallic symbols everywhere (stolen from kf). who is keen. to me? i hope. please stop with the cheese. of your life. i don't care anymore. i'll go blind first. ring ring. fucking answering machine. why aren't you home. why were you a half hour fucking late? ha. you thought an apology was enough. it'd be really neat if someone read this and thought something of it. or would it. i don't know anymore. ha. they're saying spy world. but it sounds like spago. go figure. six plus one equals seven. fucking amazing isn't it. i'm so happy cuz today i shot the fiend running in my head. is this insanity on paper? blood. ink. semen. it's all one and the same. yeah. i like that. why don't you call more? why don't i get an answering machine so you can leave me messages? why ask why? try bud dry, motherfucker. the doctor told me. he told me i was gone. fishing. fuck that shit. said i. alabama calls me, man! or if you don't believe me, ask swillybadilly. he's the mean old man who lives upstairs. it's amazing how one-track these people's minds are. pot pot pot. plant it. grow it. smoke it. whee whee. happy happy joy joy. ren and stimpy had it all. fucking a. simplistic. they love each other. they hate each other. but most importantly. they're content with each other. humanity. isn't. please shut up when you talk to me. what are you going to do. kill me? blob. that's what you said. i laughed. i cried. i might have died. so little time left. you came you went my mind it got a dent (beck). every day is auburn paraphanalia day! (gs) is everything always the same? must it remain that way? the song remains the same? that's too bad. you can't have this. you can't know this. you can't feel this. you can't be me. no. i won't let it happen. it's happening again. something is taking over. where are these words coming from? my mind? my penis? my throat? someone else? somewhere else? something else? helpussaveustakeusaway. go kamikaze. it's been canceled. all over. game over. no longer on for tonight. that's too bad. that frightens me. makes me want to cry. lost time. it could've been so much. but we'll never know, will we? unless. the game is being played right under our noses. and we're too blind to smell it. loop. fruit. sample. feel this cross your back. feel this on the back of your neck (god is my co-pilot). you've come a long way, i know. call collect. it's cheaper. this is your brain calling. wake up. smell the potatoes. juxtaposition. pole position. sexual position. greeengo. go back to your own country. funny we should bring that up. like we have any more of a right to be here than they do. we fucked up. we can't apologize. things happen quickly. time is absorbed. almost as if it never happened. you can't believe it. neither can i. i can't grasp this concept. it makes me sad. makes me want to cry. makes me want to die. or am i already gone. are you scared yet? i was. once. then things changed. the world was revealed. beauty. it happened. it will happen. it's happening. you'll see. i am the same as you. go west, young man, go west. fuck things up out there. grab a rope. new york city. my name is robert d. macmillion. this was my story.