<meta name="LineWrap" content="true"><TITLE>SR_Bk1 0015</TITLE><A HREF="SR_Bk1-0016.txt">Next (Page 16)</A><BR> The only problem was, that while the group as a whole seemed to work in terms of her ideal vision, she could not see any of the individuals really grasping or representing her design. What was to be designed to craft a good continuance? She wondered.<P><P>The day was gone. It was night.<P><P>As a gnat flies into the corner of your eye in the summer, and your blink annihilates it, and you feel its cold corpse clinging to the edge of your eyelid, and you wipe it away, and you're momentarily away from where you are, having dealt with the gnat, that was in a way what she felt the day had done to her. Obliterated her.<P><P>Now it was sex. The lust of earthy sex that excited her mind. But the sex she'd had up till now was anything but lusty and lurid. It was drunken and tense and with stupid boys. Dummies, emotional midgets, true bastards and bastards in the making. Shallow coreless automatons, who were just about worthless. <P><P>She bemoaned the fact that she had to judge some people without value. Indeed, her ideals spoke of all people being equal and having equal worth. But in reality, and quite honestly, this was not the case. Some people were very excellent, with all sorts of value, but others were stupid and childish, and not on the way to getting any better. So Tavmatey had to admit that her ideals of pure equality were indeed hogwash. <P><P>No, she thought, most people are not very excellent. Most people are jerk-offs. But there were the cool people. People who really felt and really thought and really experienced life and who really interacted with the roller coastings of existence. But these were few and far between. But this was not the main problem.<P><P>No, such cool people could indeed be sought out, and relationships with them nurtured. But the problem was that the picnic was gone, and Tavmatey knew not how to resurrect it at 10 PM on Sunday night. <P><P>We hate bad people and we like good people and we love those people who aren't really good or bad. Don't be busy being clever, experience life. But this maxim sucks, see, this credo to experience life is a lot of bull. You need lots of money to experience life. And a job drains your life from under you. So not that many people can experience life.<P><P>That notion that you can do anything you want as long as you put your mind to it--that was also a false statement. You can't do anything you want. Most dreams are unattainable, no matter how hard you try. For most people, they're simply unqualified and unable to achieve, so they put their energy into adaptation and resignation, so that their failure doesn't taste so bitter. So that they can live with the Arctic stings of a life's defeat. And Tavmatey knew she was headed there herself. And she knew that naught but dumb luck could save her. So the phone rang.<P><P>It was the bastard dumb luck calling, to deliver that which she so yearned after. The delivery would be quite massive and complete, and she would be thankful, yet screwed, but would gain wisdom in the long run. For what was to be delivered was not so much pure as it was gritty and dirty, as was life. But it was better than most other courses available that month. But I'm getting ahead of myself.<P><P>"Hello?" Tavmatey answered.<P><P>"Hi," answered the awesome sex kitten Sleap. "I have the coffee."<P><P>--------------------------<P>CHAPTER 5<P>--------------------------<P><P>"Now Canary, tell me more about your home life."<P><P>The luscious devil girl Lemon sat in a chair, legs crossed, hair done up in a bun, with glasses on, and writing notes down in a little pad.<P><P>The wild dog fellow Canary was lying down on a little couch next to Lemon.<P><P>"Mommy spoiled me doc, what can I say?"<P><P>"Don't you have any gruesome, shocking, nightmarish memories to tell your doctor now, Canary?"<P><P>"Um...<BR><A HREF="SR_Bk1-0016.txt">Next (Page 16)</A>