_ | \ | \ | | \ __ | |\ \ __ _____________ _/_/ | | \ \ _/_/ _____________ | ___________ _/_/ | | \ \ _/_/ ___________ | | | _/_/_____ | | > > _/_/_____ | | | | /________/ | | / / /________/ | | | | | | / / | | | | | |/ / | | | | | | / | | | | | / | | | | |_/ | | | | | | | | c o m m u n i c a t i o n s | | | |________________________________________________________________| | |____________________________________________________________________| ...presents... Angry Sun by Franken Gibe __//////\ -cDc- CULT OF THE DEAD COW -cDc- /\\\\\\__ Est. 1984 \\\\\\/ cDc paramedia: text #331-08/01/1997 \////// Est. 1984 __ _ _ __ _ _ __ _ _ __ _ _ __ |__heal_the_sick__raise_the_dead__cleanse_the_lepers__cast_out_demons__| Riding on a sheet of afternoon glare. It's over a hundred. I feel pricks of cold sweat on my chest and under my arms where it's dark and moist and smells sharp, pungent and profane. Where glossy black hairs coil like a bed of asps, or twin cunts. I feel dizzy and sick, and probably need to pull over, spew what's left of the Coke Slurpee and sack of pretzels that's been rotting in my stomach for an hour. God it's hot. I imagine the hell under the hood, the four cylinders coughing and choking on each fiery wheeze of the carburetor. I keep seeing someone sitting next to me. It's after 4pm. I've gotta drive 'till the sun dies and keep going through the hot, dry black of the desert night. I'll look out and I'll wonder what the lights are that I pass, way out in the desert. Out there, alone, little islands of daytime, like sunlight from the afternoon stranded, caught in some eddy. 97 degrees, 8:30pm or so. I'm roaming the streets of Yuma, 'cause I can't bear to sit in the motel watching some Showtime movie with Kevin Bacon who gets bitten by a radioactive snake near Alamagordo. I drove by Alamagordo three days ago. I went to the sand dunes out there, an ocean of glare, and started taking off my clothes. It was almost a reflex. I'm alone, sliding down pure white sand dunes and roasting, disoriented. I can't see my car. It's behind that big dune, hopefully. I try to videotape, but the camera can't deal with the glare. It stops way the fuck down and the images just look like sand, like a big absurd sandbox with me, half-naked, sputtering something about "water... water," and falling down. I still have sand caught in my ass. The dunes are unbearably bright. It's like the sun's been atomized, and a billion billion grains of sunlight are scattered around, all of 'em blowing up in micro-novas. Sunglasses don't help. Squinting doesn't help. You fall down. You take off your clothes. Everything is overexposed. You feel like you're fading. Maybe that's why I stripped. The overexposure is intoxicating. You wanna fade to white, like some Jesus in one of those old Bible movies. To become light, explode without a sound, sweat away your nasty little smelly sunburnt body and burst, a soundless immense wonderful glare that you can't really see. You either close your eyes and see red, or you open your eyes wide and fall down. .-. _ _ .-. / \ .-. ((___)) .-. / \ /.ooM \ / \ .-. [ x x ] .-. / \ /.ooM \ -/-------\-------/-----\-----/---\--\ /--/---\-----/-----\-------/-------\- /lucky 13\ / \ / `-(' ')-' \ / \ /lucky 13\ \ / `-' (U) `-' \ / `-' the original e-zine `-' _ Oooo eastside westside / ) __ /)(\ ( \ WORLDWIDE / ( / \ \__/ ) / Copyright (c) 1997 cDc communications and the author. \ ) \)(/ (_/ CULT OF THE DEAD COW is a registered trademark of oooO cDc communications, PO Box 53011, Lubbock, TX, 79453, USA. _ oooO All rights reserved. Edited by Grandmaster Ratte'. __ ( \ / ) /)(\ / \ ) \ \ ( \__/ Save yourself! Go outside! Do something! \)(/ ( / \_) xXx BOW to the COW xXx Oooo