7:17 p.m. - 2001-04-11
morningside speed
morningside speed
-------------------------
morningside speed was the zine me and spurs did while we were 17 and bored and desperately needed help and some girls.
it was born of the weird dada movement and the heck-care punk era.
we were sad and wandered the streets of orchard every weekend,just walking around with less than ten dollars in our pockets and talking and talking and looking at pretty girls....there were no starbucks or what cafes then.we went far east plaza but the real punk girls and boys scare us because of their heavily pierced ears and colorful hair and baggy alien workshop jeans and 77th street accessories and so we escaped to the substation but the arty farty types made us scratch our hair and pick at our noses consciously.we don't belong.
morningside speed--this word came while i was reading trainspotting which spurs had lent me and it describes some high you get when you mix sex and cocaine.
that was the high i was searching for in life.
transcending life.
cool.
ha-ha"fake laugh"
i faked laughed a lot back then.i wonder if i still do so now.
anyway spurs might be angry at me for putting his name here because he thinks i was such loser then and i guess it won't be good to associate with me.spurs has since gone on to a better life of pubbing and dancing with girls in the weekends.i remember me sitting on the bus depressed without a word and he beside me staring out the window,the brooding silence freezing everything we did.
i remember the days of morningside speed...inspired by force vomit and their album with the spacemen over malaysia song...me cutting out pictures from the newspapers and other magazines and then pasting them onto A4 sized paper and then writing down my stories and other stupid poems and doodling and then getting spurs to contribute some funny stuff which he always churn out easily cos he's very witty and then going to some photostating shop to get the auntie to help us photostat our zine. it would come out crisp and we would use staplers to staple the pages together.
i always thought of the audience for the zine as some poor guy sitting in his bedroom on a saturday afternoon with no friends to go out with and feeling lonely just listening to the stupid radio playing stupid r and b shit easy listening like abc songs and then frustratedly throwing his pillow at the ceiling and screaming at life for being boring ,some poor kid,some lonely guy hanging out with his pots and plants.
then there was me in the bedroom cutting away,all the stupid pictures and words.
the zine was done for me.
the first few issues of the zine were depressing stuff where i put down depressing feelings and then it took a turn for the worst when i tried to write cheerful dumb retarded stuff and then it became maudlin because i just kept producing and producing issue and issue of the zine and it even underwent some name changes to pocket of the blue cat and to onecow,twocow and then back to the last issue of morningside speed which never got published because of gardenia.
the gardenia,the bread eating bread.
only the dracula cult will know.
okay i shall leave you with one last word from the middle issue of morningside speed when me and spurs had finshed our first year exams and were just hanging around the house cos we couldn't find any work.
all plagarised from ten year series:
these holidays we had no jobs and were bored and played too much video games and on top of all that,we had no sexual experience and the incoming of next year's homework has struck fear greater than that of god in us.our apathy and depression is sickening and contagious and we sought self-medication by boiling ourselves.
our mentors,itchy and scratchy,have ran away to tibet to cleanse themselves and the last we heard,there was a dettol shortage in china. all the tv programmes were interupted with crazy people exclaiming miracles in commercials and radios got lost admist the static and strawberry jam.mother said i went grazing sheep.baw! the angst-filled scream of some dead weak zine and people said it was cool although we looked up the dictionary while memorising words for the english exam and it said 18 degree celsius.
quarrels tried to fill the silences in the house and all the people ran out blameless and the last one cried by herself and had to turn out all the lights.the passing of the last zine should have cured us of fear and totally divorced us from sadness and the lawyer lied to us about alimony and heck! who cares? fuck sadness and enter happiness.pick up a joystick and press buttons.in the night,we were thinking "if the animals could talk,would we still hurt them?" this lyric from super junky monkey and an extinct sparrow chirped from the flowerpot.it rained continuously and chairs and tables sat around watching their nails and hair grow longer.the porcelain white cat on my desk looked at these and tried to purr but nothing issued from her glass lips."listeners are speakers gagged with shyness and drink soon ease the tongue and babbles spring forth--" mc gouth. forgotten friends in different places pass through the same street with no forewarning and each had a sudden strike of amnesia which the dissappearance of the other would cure.
we should never kill our own ideals,the worst thing to do is to forget them.
happy new year.--people.
the end.
