Thomas’ Neighborhood

I think I do not fit in in this world.
A world where hope is an illusion and the future is a fantasy
A world where we poison the land we live on, the water we drink, and the air we breathe.
Then blame the government rather than take responsibility for it ourselves.

I think I do not belong in this world.
A world where violence is preferred to peace.
A world where people like me just do not fit.
A world where people are starving,
While we toss food in the trash bus the tons.

I think I do not belong in this world.
But where do I belong?

From: ***** **** **** <************@yahoo.com>
To: muteex@yahoo.com
Sent: Friday, April 6, 2007 10:39:24 AM
Subject: Terima Kasih

Terkadang ada saat-saat dalam hidup ketika engkau merindukan seseorang begitu dalam, hingga engkau ingin mengambilnya dari angan-anganmu, lalu memeluknya erat-erat!

Ketika pintu kebahagiaan tertutup, pintu yang lain terbuka; tetapi, seringkali kita memandang terlalu lama pada pintu yang tertutup hingga kita tidak melihat pintu yang lain, yang telah terbuka bagi kita.

Jangan percaya penglihatan, penglihatan dapat menipu. Percayalah pada dia yang dapat membuatmu tersenyum, sebab hanya senyumlah yang dibutuhkan untuk mengubah hari gelap menjadi terang.

Carilah dia, yang membuat hatimu tersenyum.

Angankan apa yang engkau ingin angankan, pergilah kemana engkau ingin pergi, jadilah seperti yang engkau kehendaki, sebab hidup hanya satu kali dan engkau hanya memiliki satu kesempatan untuk melakukan segala hal yang engkau ingin lakukan.

Semoga engkau punya cukup kebahagiaan untuk membuatmu tersenyum, cukup pencobaan untuk membuatmu kuat, cukup penderitaan untuk tetap menjadikanmu manusiawi, dan cukup pengharapan untuk menjadikanmu bahagia.

Mereka yang paling berbahagia tidaklah harus memiliki yang terbaik dari segala sesuatu, mereka hanya mengoptimalkan segala sesuatu yang datang dalam perjalanan hidup mereka.

Masa depan yang paling gemilang akan selalu dapat diraih dengan melupakan masa lalu yang kelabu, engkau tidak akan dapat maju dalam hidup hingga engkau melepaskan segala kegagalan dan sakit hatimu.

Ketika engkau dilahirkan, engkau menangis sementara semua orang di sekelilingmu tersenyum. Jalani hidupmu sedemikian rupa, hingga pada akhirnya engkaulah satu-satunya yang tersenyum sementara semua orang di sekelilingmu menangis.

Jangan hitung tahun-tahun yang lewat, hitunglah saat-saat yang indah.. Hidup tidak diukur dengan banyaknya napas yang kita hirup, melainkan dengan saat-saat di mana kita menarik napas bahagia

begitu barangkali kata orang bijak.

You make a hole in my heart. My heart is flat like paper. You can write on
the hole. You can write but you better not leave the hole because you'll
hit the blood. When you hit the blood you heat the blood. The hole is
frayed cause the blood's afraid. You can write it there in mid-air which
is the place to write the place to be. I'd rather be there than in the
blood where the words disappear. In the hole the words hold fast. They
hold fast to your fingers. Your fingers hold your hand your arm. Held fast
in the hole you reach deep inside of me. But there's nothing there but the
hole and your hand is clean. Your hand stays clean as long as it's in the
hole and it's going to stay there. And I make sure it stays in the hole,
stays clean, and I make sure it's going to stay there and stay in place. 

Show us a picture of where you'd like to live and tell us why you want to live there. 
Submitted by Warhead.  

CCA, Montreal, Canada

I don't wanna wait in vain for your love
I don't wanna wait in vain for your love
From the very first time I blessed my eyes on you, girl
My heart says, "Follow through."
But I know now that I'm way down on your line
But the waiting feel is fine
So don't treat me like a puppet on a string
'Cause I know how to do my thing
Don't talk to me as if you think I'm dumb
I wanna know when you're gonna come

a see, in life I know there's lots of grief
But your love is my relief
Tears in my eyes burn
Tears in my eyes burn while I'm waiting
While I'm waiting for my turn.

It's your love that I'm waiting on
It's my love that you're running from.

from: Waiting In Vain by Bob Marley

a young beautiful boy moves to an island. he sees a computer on the island. the computer says, i don't have long to live. the boy listens to the computer. he quietly removes his clothing. he will always caress the keyboard. he remembers the dying light of the screen. he remembers the last whisper of the warning tone. he remembers for the first time watching life drain out. he holds onto the carapace, rocking gently back and forth. he rocks back and forth with his death in his hands. he rocks back and forth.

What is the relationship between email and ordinary mail?

I am a poor letter-writer in real life; what disappears, seems not only gone forever but an artificial construct, complete with its own rituals. Email on the other hand is instantaneous, of the measure of speech; I tend to great perhaps 40 email posts a day minimum, many back-channel and many to the listservs themselves.

Why are we reading these lists?
Do we hope to accomplish anything here?
Do we really feel this is a form of community?
Why are the demographics currently so skewed to males?
Why is there such a rapid turnover on the lists?
Are we too sensitive or not enough to one another?
Why have all the cyber-romances disappeared?
Are we discovering a viral anguish in our midst?

I'm reading the list to learn and belong. I'm tired of anti-intellectualism. I hope to learn from reasoned debate. I want to feel I belong. I am ashamed there are so few women participating. I wish that the community would develop and not lose membership so often. I feel we need more sensitivity at times. I hope for the perfect cyber-lover and her appearance forever in my life. I feel we are all anguished more than we admit.

This is a list that needs more knowledge. This is a place where people who think would find a home. This is a place where flame-wars should give way to careful replies. This is a place of belonging and taking responsibility for one's language. This is a place which should be everyone's. This is a place where we should know our rites of passage. This is a place of reprimands and comforting. This is a place of bodies and ghosts.

Academics and nonacademics, intellectuals, and cypherpunks, women and men, mothers and fathers, students and teachers, unemployed and workers, believers and non-believers, empowerment and release, patients and doctors.

Take these spaces with you, spread the word, scroll the real, or not...