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\dropcap{D}earest BlaB: Long time no etc. Just read your Rant (of the�
highest possible order) that'll run, apparently, in the queer issue of�
MRR. Courtesy Matt Smith aka Matt Shred. It's completely trashy,�
personal, brilliant and right-spot-on. He dropped by yesterday and we�
had a nice chat.

The enclosed zine is discussed below. First, some background\dots

\dropcap{S}PEW. What a joke. It was a horrid event. {\it I} however�
had a good time, though it had {\it nothing} to do with spew-folk. I�
am guessing you had a similar experience. Vag is completely amazing!�
She scared me, actually, in an odd sort of way, I was more or less�
speechless in her presence. 

A variation on a familiar theme for you: it was implied that because�
we (you \& I) didn't ``hang out'' (you know, us famous zinesters, the�
new true Gay Literati, etc) there must be something bad between us.�
The whole idiotic mindset I don't need to elaborate on.

Sigh. I {\it hate} this shit. I usually simply ignore it.

Another slight digression (to be resolved shortly) -- at some point�
last summer, I too got a little tired of this BIMBOX crap. Right from�
the start, it seemed sort of odd. Now you may think I'm slow, but I�
really am not well connected to this zine stuff. Also I try to take a�
long view regarding peoples' behavior: people choose between the�
symbols/choices they {\it think} they have; some few later realize�
they can create, or at least mix'n'match, symbols. But that's another�
story.

I too realize the power of negative publicity. Deke and I have also�
been getting tired of the righteousness\footnote*{
Oh how I hate righteousness. It is the first and most�
serious symptom of the ill-behaved, uncivilized shits that call�
themselves ``radicals''. Jeremy Piper (HIGH SCHOOL FAG), Robert Brown�
(PUNK PALS), as examples, are lonely, even angry, but {\it never}�
righteous. As you are certainly aware.} 
that BIMBOX seems to be crystallizing before us. (It's hardly unique.)�
Arguing with them in their context is {\it a.} letting them define the�
argument and {\it b.} giving them credit and fame. 

\dropcap{S}o we came up with this idea, enclosed for your viewing�
pleasure. I have to admit, we're quite proud of it. Deke did the awful�
slogans and graphics, and I did the text. It was an {\it excruciating}�
experience to write. After very nearly every sentence, I had to stop�
to howl with laughter, or to retch. At the risk of bragging, I think�
it's hot. We carefully mixed blatant idiocy with subtlety. We stole�
things in the most callous and embarrassing manner (ie.~JDs pix);�
indulged in self-homophobic (editorial and BIMBOX review) 
and self-righteous (out-of-context quotes and the other reviews)�
absurdities; and, best of all, blatantly claimed that BIMBOX stole our�
ideas. We threw in random potshots (the weakest part of the whole�
thing) in dim-witted JDs flattery/insult, a far-too-weak criticism of�
HOMOCORE, and the almost-gives-it-away title. Plus a polite dig at my�
ex-, Michael Grutchfield aka Pope George Ringo 3.

There are little things that compromise it, but I don't think it will�
matter much in the end. Though we've leaked it intentionally to�
obscure its origins (which will hopefully at least delay discovery),�
since we didn't attack them outright, they only get a sort of�
embarrassing publicity-by-comparison, hopefully like running into the
dreaded ex-trick who tries ingratiate himself in front of your�
friends, reminding you of a relationship you'd rather be forgotten. At�
best, they may have to defend themselves against it, which would be�
letting {\it us} define the playing field\dots

It also leaves them an ``out'', and, upon discovery of the true�
authors, makes an attack by them on us look even more trivially�
retaliatory, because it's not actually overtly mean.

Or, at least this is how we {\it hope} it all goes.

\dropcap{S}o, I wanted you to know we still love you, and care, and at�
at least in some areas, are still heading in more or less the same�
direction, large-scale wise.

Anyhoo, thought I'd send ENOUGH ROPE along with a note. (By the way,�
please don't tell anyone {\it where} you got it.) I tried to edit this�
into sensibility, but I frustratingly failed. I am working 10 hrs/day,�
contract job, and I'm frazzled, this up-early/home-late shit sucks and�
I'm running on caffeine right now. So much for measured words.

Deke and Matt say ``hi''. Truly. Enjoy, get laid early and often, and�
don't let the shits get you down. 


\dropcap{M}ore random SPEW notes: did you get to meet Teg, from BUNDLE�
OF STICKS? He's totally great. His bullshit detector is in perfect�
working order. Completely trustworthy in any way I can think of.

When we (the Shred gang; me, Greta, Deke, Clay) showed up, at first�
they were {\it delighted} that the HOMOCORE people were going to be�
there. It was great fun to see their faces drop when we dropped in. I�
think they were expecting stylish mohawks (not too big of course)�
proper attire (tribal tattoos, Docs) and pierced-nose in the air. My�
my were they disappointed. The best arrival we could have had. I�
purposely left my leather jacket at home, and wore my 
best repressed-mall-rat boy drag all weekend.

I was though surprised by the number of dollars they tried to squeeze�
from us. (I found out from a LA resident later that LACE is by our�
standards rich; those people whose work was hanging there? They are�
{\it paid} for it. They have numerous sugar-daddies.) They way they�
commodified us (all), they should have paid {\it us}. I don't think we�
(Greta, Deke, Clay) paid for anything. At the film showing, Greta�
simply made up a huge comp list, and brazenly waved us in, as we�
walked by talking loudly. We were {\it rude} and they couldn't bring�
themselves to be {\it rude} back. Their loss. We each did similar�
things at different times. 

Now I may be spoiled by San Fagsicko, or maybe simply my smug small�
town attitude, but I was amazed at how we were left to fend for�
ourselves, for simple things like where to eat. The one thing I will�
say in their defense is, I think they have all been living in that war�
zone for so long, they forget there is a war on. And that it's not�
necessary to live like that. Oh well. 


\vskip\parskip

\line{Your admirer\leaderfill Tom}

\vskip1in

PS: I hope you aren't mad at me for calling my zine HOMOCORE. If I had�
known what was going to happen\dots{} but I do, and did, tell people�
all the time, as little as they want to remember, what its origin is.�
And I was pleased to see the word used recently in its lower case,�
original meaning. Anyways the zine is a pretty corpse. 

I was going to say, ``and it never {\it did} get me laid'', but it did�
-- at SPEW! Not sure if you remember that boy I was obsessed with that�
Sat.~afternoon, at the zine table. The rather cute but otherwise�
ordinary-looking fag-punk boy. Turns out, he's not quite what he�
seems. He's not very hardcore (neither am I) or even pretentious in�
that direction. He actually thinks about what he's doing, works with�
crazy people, and is actually rather annoyed with the self-imposed�
factions also. To make a long, dull story short, I will go visit him�
in Seattle in May. His name is Michael. Lives in the Pacific�
NorthWest. Sigh. Is two in a row a pattern (fnord)?


\bye
