Digital Underground - uXu - Underground eXperts United #uxu-228

### ### ### ### ### #### ### ### ### #### ### ### ##### ### ### ### ### ### ### ### ### ### ##### ### ### ########## ### ### ########## ### ### ### ### Underground eXperts United Presents... ####### ## ## ####### # # ####### ####### ####### ## ## ## ## ##### ## ## ## ## #### ## ## #### # # ####### ####### ####### ## ## ## ## ##### ## ## ## ## ## ## ####### ####### # # ####### ####### ####### [ Histamin ] [ By Pivic ] ____________________________________________________________________ ____________________________________________________________________ H i s t a m i n by Pivic (pivic@skom.se) The music is guitars in harmony with much dist. The people are jumping around on the stage and are stated geniuses. I can't handle them, or this new punk-scene which most of the Ostermalmchildren have taken to. Girls with black hair, black clothes - a skin-jacket with an anarchist-A on the backside - gets into her father's BMW as he comes to pick her up. What is she going to say to her little friends over the telephone tonight? That her father was SO pissed at her when he said he didn't want to see her with such people again? Hardly - he probably didn't even care. He probably sat and eased his belt, glasses and his conscience, while his poor daughter is dancing the-dying-yuppie-waltz by thinking of tonight's concert. The band's name was Plutonium. By Karlaplan, via one of the underground exits, there is a shop. There an old lady always sits on the summers with her feet on the counter and a GB-cap, one with an elastic band instead of just textile. She usually eats Piggelin. Her husband once said the preservative that's in the ice-cream helped you against the sun, that it was better than suntan oil and so. She didn't know that what she was eating really was huge amounts of a light-green pigment, which affected her skin in a most peculiar way. Her good friends noticed nothing, but customers who never had seen her before wondered where the colour came from, as if the shop had green plastic as roof. Have you ever met a person who likes to weigh things to see if they will fall or not - a person who likes to make big piles of books on their floor at home and then say it has to do with a lack of space, even though that person has space for whatever? Daniel was a person who lived on the fifteenth storey. He had loads of things on his balcony, which's door almost always stood open. The balcony was pretty solid, nothing one falls off if one doesn't wish to. The rail was pretty solid as well, which was something he made sure of before he bought it. Then the carpet-carriers came. The street below the balcony was crowded, during rush hour. NOW. They went into the balcony and looked around. They saw typewriters and goldfish-bowls on the rail, which made them look at each other with strange faces for a moment. After diverse chit-chat between the three, the two workers took a couple of carpets each and left. The first carpet- carrier banged a fish bowl which slipped off the rail with a metallic sound. The other worker then almost soundlessly turned around and stuck two typewriters off the rail. Daniel could hear music, when the three looked at the objects which fell towards the people. The cities are desolate. Two cars are going towards each other in a low speed over the old russian tundra. The wind is making the drivers think it whistles outside, because of chicken-nets which doesn't exist. Their speed is increasing. One is turning and the other one as well, so that they're directed towards each other. Time passes and when they smash it's frontally. The first car's petrol-tank which was on the car's top, smashed against the other car and sat fire to it. The fire spread to the first one. The fire was invisible because the temperature was below -40 degrees Celsius and the heat was spreading fast. The cars were welded together. One man survived. I'm walking outside on the street and I see skinheads fighting outside a pub. The pub is brightly lit and I see lots of people fighting outside the pub as well. Mostly I see skinheads in dark jackets, probably from India or some other kind of developing country, which probably are the skinheads' most beautiful and valuable possessions and they're adorned by the Union Jack. They're shouting at and kicking people which seem to be the family who own the pub, the family Purrajabijn; my neighbors. I see how one of them, the youngest boy, Mamet, is walking outside with a tray of beers. A skin hits the tray and the beers break against the ground at the same time Mamet gets a couple of chair-legs in his stomach, the same legs which were used to break the beers. Two skins help their cause. And I walk on - I've seen enough. They can manage without my help. She's putting together pages text pictures. She is using a roller to paste pictures and text onto a big sheet of paper. The paper she later sends to the printing house on time. Somebody other than her is going to make the cover and the layout in details. They don't have modern computers. Or computers which they can use. Autumn has arrived and she often wishes she didn't work for a paper where she has to write for sellers when she really wants to write about the feelings she gets at autumn. She is the editor. The wall is getting hot, and I turn around in order to burn my other shoulder instead of my face. The people around me look strangely at me, as if I had some kind of plague which you have to scratch away. The wall isn't very high, which means that you can lean your neck backwards more than 44 degrees. A bunch of people are dancing before us, wearing clothes from the 50's. I suddenly hear the music. They're dancing the twist, but stop as they notice. I notice. The people around me start getting up and take my skin jacket and jeans. The shoes. Lord, we are in the wrong time- period. Help us. Timecircles are visible in the water. She is swimming towards me and just as she smiles, I dive cowardly, and she dives after me. I close my eyes and smile a bit. I'm looking under the water and I'm seeing her deadly beautiful smile. She swims up to me and takes a hold of me with both of her hands as she kisses me and I'm afraid. We kiss each other and I don't care if I'm drowning. Just as I'm drowning with her. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- uXu #228 Underground eXperts United 1994 uXu #228 Call THE ALLIANCE -> +1-612-251-8596 ---------------------------------------------------------------------------

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