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The Maven was young. Well, we all were. In 1990 he was still somewhere closing on age 20. It got a little confusing. He is one of the many stars of Ford Prefect's Softwair Fair, but I promise you that characterization was not entirely true to life. Heheh. He was very intelligent, a born romantic and... oh yeah, I could sometimes picture him riding off into the sunset in his big, red 4x4 (the one whose passenger door once opened while Megan and I were riding up 50th with him) well at any rate, he was quite a character. I wonder what he's up to these days? He had his ups and downs. Despite what he wrote, or perhaps because of what he wrote, he lived. These sometimes feel rather raw. They can be quite dark.
One Night, 03/24/91 untitled about suicide. Beware. About Man and God, Old Man and the Moon, Dear World a series of letters railing about life, Fading Light,, untitled and nice!, Untitled, sad, and Untitled, love
After a while And you learn And you begin And you begin And you learn After a while So plant your own Garden

- The Electric Dreamer, 1989 -


"Love me," the little man cried, "That's all I ask of you. Love me. Want me. Need me in your life. Need me to be there. Need me to hold you. Need me to love you. That's all I ever wanted. That's all I ever asked. Just your love."

The silent freeway didn't offer much in the way of an answer... but then he really never expected that it would... he just needed to say it... he couldn't say it to the woman he loved; she wouldn't understand. She never would.

So the little man got back in his car and continued driving down the freeway. The night was a bit chilly, so he turned on the heater... the small car warmed up quickly as its tiny engine churned away to propell him through the night, just a one man comet barely lighting its way through the night. He drove on, because when the city lights dimmed in the distance, he could turn off his headlights and just burn on... the only sounds the freeway hum his tires made... the sound of his engine purring slowly... the sound of his heartbeat loud in his ears... he didn't have to think about why... why... why he was here... why he was alive, if he wasn't destined for happiness... why he... bothered to go on living. He didn't have to wonder anymore. Nothing mattered except for the monotonous sounds of the twin engines... his car and his heart. He considered stopping for a bit, but that would break up what little peace he had found in nothingness. It was almost like being dead... no sight, no need for thought, no constant interruptions into his solace, nothing. Just... nothing. No real pleasure... but no pain, either. No sense of loss when things he had prayed for, had begged whatever god there was to grant him, seemed almost ready to come to him but then for no reason stopped. Just... died.

As he began to think again, the pain came back... the suffering which came from loss... and he finally realized who was really to blame for it all... who stopped him from ever getting what he so craved.

So when he stopped by an all night diner by the side of the freeway, he walked in, ordered a cup of black coffee and a sandwich, ate them, then walked out onto the freeway, took out his pistol and shot the man who was to blame for it all twice... so that he didn't have to think... didn't have to hurt... didn't have to do anything.

His body lay out on the pavement under the night sky for almost an hour before the police drove by and asked the counterman at the diner what had happened.

Thursday 11/22/90 23:18:08 PM From The Maven

Here's one out of my High School journal... I may have copied it out of something, but I'm not sure and can't remember where if I did... this WAS 3 years ago...

A man was walking along a beach one day when his god appeared to him. The following conversation ensued:

God: What is wrong, my child?
Man: I am a coward, my lord. I am craven, and fearful, and small.
God: But that is how I have created you! I have made you petty, jealous, craven, lusting, prideful, slothful, gluttonous, lecherous, murderous, cheating and covetuous. And in you I am well pleased. For man cannot be perfect. I created him imperfectly. And you are a man.
Man: That may well be, my lord, but I still feel dissatisfied, like I have failed you somehow. Like I have failed >Myself< somehow.
God: If you were satisfied with your life, then you would not endevour to become better. That is why I have MADE you dissatisfied.
"Better than what!?" cried Man.
"Better than Me!" whispered his god.

89Mar15 17:42:04 From [Plastered Iguana] Mandrake

Dear World:

You know, sometimes you really piss me off. There is not reason, no rhyme. It doesn't make any sense. We're born, we live awhile, perhaps we make some contribution to a society that hasn't given us shit, we love, we cry, we hurt, we bleed, we learn great truths and are told also many lies. We live a life of futile, ineffectual, pissed off agony. And there's nothing we can do about it. We grow up to hate ourselves... and hate others. We learn that lying can make life easier. We grow up hateful, lustful, covetuous, slothful, lecherous, cruel, insensitive, murderous animals. We reproduce and create more of our kind. What is the point to this? Nothing. Nothing at all. You hate us. Our friends hate us. Our lovers hate us. Our mothers, fathers, sisters, and brothers hate us. I give up. To hell with running your arbitrary maze of rules and regulations in this tremendously screwed up society. To hell with you. I need something more. I need love. I need hope. I need brief moments of euphoria not broken up by long hours of pain. I need to wake up knowing that I am not going to die. I need, world. And you don't give me what I need.

GoodBye Cruel World:

89Mar18 22:04:47 From [Plastered Iguana] Mandrake

Dear World:

Why, world? What have I done to you? Every fucking night I wake to screaming nightmares of the earth opening to engulf me. There are millions of people around and still, they ignore me. It's as if I don't make a fucking impact on anybody's life. The high point of my week was a hug from a girl that I hardly know. Fleeting happiness at best. I need, world. I envy those around me who have somebody who says 'Hey, I love you'. Who have somebody to say that to. Lonely nights I spend alone, I hurt. I want to scream a million screams.... like an animal caught in a trap, but instead must hurt silently. World, you cause me this pain. I feel rejected, lonely, hurt, and scared. The walls close in, and the faces come closer, chanting 'I DON'T FUCKING CARE IF YOU LIVE OR DIE JUST LEAVE ME ALONE GODDAMMIT!!' I don't even know people, and they hate me. I am not ugly, am not cruel, am not disgusting, am not one to be fearful of. People treat me as the dirt upon which they walk. They do not apologise, they do not stop to talk to me, to make me feel loved, wanted, alive. Why world? Why? What have I done to you?

GoodBye Cruel World:

89Mar18 22:04:47 From [Plastered Iguana] Mandrake

Hey world-


89Dec10 16:55:10 From [ThisIsNotHowIAm] Mandrake

Dear World:

It's me again. Remember me? Yeah. That's right. I'm sorry I haven't written you, but I've been a bit busy. Oh well. Better late than never, huh?

I noticed something lately, world. There's this little cold spot in me, kinda like a little spot of death in my heart. It ebbs and flows, but it's always there. I noticed it this summer, too. I ignored it then, but it's stayed with me. I worked in a fast food place this summer. It was actually a very positive experience. For the first time, I actually felt like I was DOING something useful in my life. Sure, the working conditions are awful, but every two weeks I brought home a paycheck which I could put in the bank. It was a great feeling. Every two weeks, I earned the right to have things. To own things. To do things. To be things. Every two weeks I had another window open for me. My relatives were all surprised that I stuck with it for so long. They thought I would get bored with it. I never considered leaving. This was life. This was REAL life.

I did something else this summer too. I had a girlfriend. Again, she wasn't much, but she gave me a good feeling in the pit of my heart. And she warmed that cold spot. It never went away, but somehow it didn't seem so wintery cold. Somehow... this too was... was.... Oh, I don't know. It was a relief from the pain of everyday life. But she left. I have yet to regret not calling her back, although for a while I was rather depressed, but somehow that cold spot grew again.

World, is this what being adult means? Having a little spot of Ice in the middle of your soul, so you are no longer free to sing and dance and play in the sun? Never letting your emotions get out of hand, because that little icy spot never lets you? Why, world? Why? Why can't we accept ourselves for what we are, simply because you won't accept us for what we are not? Why are we encouraged to build shells just because you destroy those who don't have defenses? Why?

GoodBye Cruel World:

P.S. But then again, world, if we didn't have that little cold spot, we wouldn't be able to sit still and stare at the stars.

90Aug08 00:12:16 From [I can't explain] Mandrake [You would not Understand]

Dear World ---


It's me again. Remember? It's been about a year since I wrote you last, and god knows I've changed a bit, but you don't seem to have. You never do. You still tear down every bridge, still hurt each and every one of us, until it's all we can do to just hang on...

I can't cry anymore world... It's been too long for tears to come... all I can do is sit on a corner of my bed and hold myself... I seem to be the only person I can hold these days... you ripped the woman I loved from me, world. Or maybe I did, but I can't see how... nothing you ever taught me works... all I ever wanted was everything world... all I ever needed was this one lifetime... was that too much to ask of her??? Is that too much to ask of you? Happiness? Caring? Even... love?

I'm so cold inside, world... So cold, so dead... I wake up in the morning and I curse the light... for it means I have to go back out and be broken again... broken and thrown away... Is THIS, then what life is? The breaking of spirit? Until all there is left is death... My grandfater told me he wasn't afraid of death, at the end... not afraid. It was a friend, that ended suffering. A warmth. A healing light. Not the brutal rays of the sun, that tear and rip... not the sun which shines down cold during the winter, to taunt and tantalize....

Oh why... Dear God, why... All I ever asked was to be free. Free to love. Free to BE loved. Free to fly on these broken wings....

GoodBye Cruel World....

Fading Light

Mirror, Mirror

Mirror, Mirror on the wall
Hold me fast that I might fall
And in a dreaming stupor lie
Until days come when I may die

For through the darkened night I see
Things that come, pass on, and be
And there's not much there left for me
To run away from now

For I have found in the darkened night
That I can't see by cold star light
And only by the light of love
Can I see those sparks above

So darkness, darkness, cover me
And cloak these eyes that cannot see
For love once lost can't come again
When poked by mem'ry's cruel pin

- The Electric Dreamer /
Fading Light - 1990 -

The Old Man and the Moon

Once not far from now, far above the buzzing cityscape in a silent tower, a simple young man walked in and sat at the feet of an Old Man and asked him a simple question:

"Old Man, how can I be like you? How can I find a place that I and my new bride will be safe? How can I build for myself an empire such as yours? And how can I grow old and wise just as you have?"

A silence, then a heavy sigh.

"Young man," the Old Man said, "You do not want what I have. Be happy. Live."

"But sir," the younger man protested, "I know what I ask."

"Then take it," replied the Old Man suddenly, "Take it and be happy, for I have grown old and weary of it. Take my moon which no longer shines the silvery glow that yours does but rather the white of death. Take my shining gems; I would trade them all for the stars in your night sky. Take it. I no longer care."

"How can this be?" wondered the young man aloud, "Why are you not happy? you own more of the world than I even know of, and the power you command is too great for me to dream about!"

"Simple," said the old man with a bitter laugh, "For I have found that the ease with which I can get the things I want makes the things I cannot get hurt all the more. You see all this around me? I own it. All of it. Almost everything I see is mine. But the one thing I want, it seems I cannot have. For so help me, I would trade all I have for what you have. I would trade my sparking tower for your tiny warm house full of life. I would trade my glittering gems for your stars. And I would trade the secrets I have learned and the profits I cannot begin to reap for one woman to share my life with. Someone to love me as I grow old. One person, one cause to die for, rather than just.... ending."

And then, as a whisper, the old man drew one more ragged breath and died.

The younger man thought for a moment, then walked out.

Sunday 03/24/91 13:41:51 PM From The Maven

One night
So many memories
As I'm driving down the street

One day
So many memories
of Feelings that were so sweet

Pictures long forgotten
of times so long ago
maybe best forgotten
covered in time's snow

I can't live in the past, I say
I can't stay here too long
The feeling doesn't last that way
So long ago, it's gone...

I cry for the innocence I've lost
But maybe that's the way it has to be
Cause even while I try to stay
the same, that changes me

One night, in your bedroom
that's when I felt your touch
a moment with the mirror
then a simple question of lust

One moment in my dreaming
a silent sad goodbye
a man who helped to change my life
had one day to die

It's not a matter of choosing
the moments come and go
Just try to minimize the bruising
as the memories unfold.

Walking a dark and cold path, the weary man stopped to rest his feet. Sitting by the side of the road, he asked himself why he was walking. The only reason he could come up with was that it was what was expected of him. He was expected to walk when on the path. He was expected to follow the path home. That his feet hurt didn't matter. He was supposed to be home by darkfall. That his mind was churning didn't matter. He was supposed to walk, not think. The tearing of his soul didn't matter, for the knife that had rent it shed no blood, but only left scars. And upon walking again, he found that the scars were still there, but almost silent in their pain. No longer did he feel the knife so sharply as it cut him, for the memory of what he had lost had passed. What had been torn from him no longer seemed to matter, for the simple reason that it seemed to have existed only as a dream. And there was still the path. The dark, cold, silent path. He had to walk, for that was what was expected of him. He had to follow the path, for it was what he remembered as the way home. He had to be home by nightfall, and there was still so far to go, so far to walk, so far to crawl, so far to cry.
Sunday 11/25/90 23:54:39 PM From The Maven

One moment watching
the sparks dance in your eyes
The next moment crying
and wondering why I cry
Tho I know it's you
I don't know just what brought me through
The nights of crying your name

All I ask is a moment
and all I need is your touch
a whisper on your pillow
and my mind starts to rush
cause I know it's you
you who always brings me through
the night, so lonely sometimes

A hint of a melody wrapped around a memory
of arms wrapped around me in the cold winter sun
All I wanted was a lifetime
All I wanted was you
And god I'm not sure
how much farther I can go
till I fall, crying on the moon

So whisper that you need me
and send it on the night
tell me that you want me
oh god, hold me tight...
Cause I need you
even though I'm not quite sure where I'm going to...
I need you to need me
I need to feel your life
and I need your arms around me
in the cold winter night.

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