[This was originally hosted on a free web site, but has since been
removed.]
***
POST MORTEM F.U.C.K.
IN MEMORIAM DAMANSTIAN, DISORDER, MEA CULPA
Advance Notice: I would like to emphasize that I am not one of the I-miss-
F.U.C.K. reunionists. With this file I do *not* want to take Dam, Dis and Mea
Culpa out of the cryogenics chamber to make them dance for us one more time.
Since I am the deegenerate who likes a dead F.U.C.K., what I am gonna do is I'm
gonna dig them up from the graveyard-archives at attrition to show you all my
necrophilia. The voyeur becomes an exhibitionist this time ;-)
***
"It seems pretty," [she] said when she had finished it, "but it's *rather* hard
to understand!" (You see she didn't like to confess, even to herself, that she
couldn't make it out at all.) "Somehow it seems to fill my head with ideas -
only I don't exactly know what they are! However, *somebody* killed
*something*; that's clear, at any rate---."
Lewis Carroll, Through The Looking Glass.
"So what the hell is the point of this whole file? Who cares.
I learned long ago that expressing your daily thoughts like this
does wonders to help you clear your mind, see your own thoughts, and
more. Just knowing that other people will read your raw emotions
makes you feel kinda weird, at least it makes me feel that way. Think
about it; a dozen, hundreds, maybe thousands of people reading what
is beyond second nature to you."
- dis, Doin' it in Texas.
***
If I were to write this file about a novel, nobody would feel offended. But
because this concerns a real living being, I am supposed to tone it down. I
must not exaggerate. I must not get overemotional or overenthusiastic. All
these things would be permitted if I was writing about *fiction*. If I had
written this in the English department, the teacher would have loved my, what
he called, "wet style" and commentary. But because this is written about a
person, alive and breathing, I have to watch my mouth.
This whole file is going to sound odd to the people who do know him, but you
have to remember: I do not know this person; I am completely clueless as to who
he is. I only know one of the voices of F.U.C.K. I know the *character*
Damanstian, the *character* DisordeR and the *character* Mea Culpa. When you
know somebody and you read something from them, you can actually imagine them
saying it, and how they would act and sound if they did. All I see is a piece
of text on the screen, nothing else. So no matter how much I tell
myself: "Watch what you are saying, there is a LIVING PERSON, behind all
this!" , to me these are just three characters in an online novel I read last
summer. That's all I am gonna work with. If it doesn't comply with reality,
then that's the beauty of the egotistical hermeneutic interpretation.
On the other hand, why do I have to claim or aim at reality at all? The very
medium that introduced me to this piece of work allows the broadest
interpretation of what is otherwise undisputable fact. They could have all been
completely fictitious characters, every single story told something that was
made up to appear as real. Most people would argue this, I would argue this
myself, but for the sake of expression I will say that I can't be 100% sure.
When I do that, I can tolerate writing a subjective piece, not worrying about
it being too emotional. Most importantly I can write about this unrestrained,
as I would with any piece of literature. I can turn away from self-censorship
and truly say how these heatstealing files affected me. A novel that was
written in seven years. Most life-stories are lost forever in time, but not
this one. This is how I perceive these files reading them after so many years.
This is for them and about them.
***
"As everyday passes I have to wonder what the fuck is wrong
with everyone. It seems a greater portion of our society is too
caught up with trivial shit for us to make it out of this decade."
-DisordeR, How Trivial
"You ever get that feeling that you are all alone out there?
That everyone around you is a fucking moron that needs to be shot?
Ever catch yourself saying how much society sucks? That Americans
have really become a bunch of wimps? That shit ain't right in general?"
-Dam(ned), file #056
***
I really don't know why Damanstian's rants appealed to me as much as they did.
I am not the kind of person to form quick alliances, especially not with novel-
characters. I've read the frustrations of others on the screen and in books
many times before, not being convinced or moved by anything. I read *one* text,
Real Life - School, and already I was on his side. Reading on I found that
there were enough things about him that make me cringe. I often disagreed with
him as he was ranting at the F.U.C.K. crowd, sometimes sounding like a hellfire
preacher. But it was captivating. Where was my otherwise stern righteousness
that makes me turn my back to almost every person I encounter, virtual or
otherwise? These texts were pretty in such a terrible way. I loved the way he
was complaining at all things wrong, words dripping with annoyance. I kept
reading on, not knowing what the hell I was doing staring at the screen. I felt
like a bird staring at the snake, both scared and fascinated. Admittedly, I was
impressed.
***
"I don't know, maybe it is a crazy idea, or too depressing for the
masses. I'd like to think that it will bring a small sense of unity to
some individuals, help them understand the concept of respect and honor.
Its a shot in the dark, but maybe...just maybe..."
- dis, Half Respect
"The thing that bothers me the most and has sorta driven me to write about it
is the fact that people are so damn unaware of their surroundings. People think
only of themselves and don't give a shit about other people. Usually it isn't
that they don't give a shit, but that they don't realize that their actions
have a direct influence on other people."
- Dam, Starter
***
It all begins when Damanstian, nineteen years old, decides to start a series of
text files together with a friend. He did this at the time because he was
bothered by people's ignorance of their surroundings. The foundation on which
F.U.C.K. was created and on which all the other writers elaborated in their
F.U.C.K. files stayed the same ever since that first file: awareness. And thus
it began, complete with a casual in-between thanks to a destructive/creative
entity, one of both chaos and inspiration. I can't help but wonder why the hell
he included Cthulhu in his thanx-list. Maybe he was reading Lovecraft, maybe he
was simply joking. Doesn't matter, if its significance occurs to me only, so be
it. Wise up or perish.
***
"I think the best bet is for you the reader to think about things yourself.
Draw your own conclusions based on the text above. After all, your own thoughts
are the most powerful message I can deliver."
-d1s, Two Plus Two
"Just because nothing happens in your immediate sight, doesn't
mean it doesn't happen."
-Dam, Time Passed
***
Damanstian thought that writing all these files could help someone, anyone, get
beyond the dullness and boredom that rules most people's lives. He wanted
people to use their brain and see things in a whole new way. "I wish you
would!" scream the texts "Just try it! Do it!". But did they ever get it? Again
and again he's bewildered at people's ability and willingness to harm. Another
thing I sense while reading these files is that he isn't really angry with
anyone, but much more disappointed in this hostile and brutally teasing world.
Determined he carries on, even if it has to be before these fools.
***
"Why am I here... perhaps my ability coupled with my desire to write, study and
observe tells me something? Am I to be taking better notes on society? Write a
thesis or book on my differences, or maybe describe a world so full of "color"
from the eyes of someone who doesn't see them."
- DisordeR, Black and White. Posted for Underground eXperts United.
***
One thing that was there from the start was his stories. Fiction within the
larger frame of a story. Some of these stories have the feel of someone still
developing his style. Some of them read like something out of a Tom Clancy
novel. As time goes by they become more romantic and fantastic. My personal
favourite - unfortunately not posted for F.U.C.K.; I really wonder why - is
still the one about the alien with the inhuman colorless eyes.
***
"The hero of yesterday becomes the tyrant of tomorrow unless he crucifies
himself today."
-Lydia Lunch.
"Why do we crucify ourselves..."
***
If this online novel were a film, then Tori Amos' Crucify would have been the
ever re-occurring theme. This song appears from the very start, all the way to
the terrible Mea Culpa files: from A Higher Purpose, to Inner Turmoil,
Convoluted Rants and Guilt In Three Parts. In the F.U.C.K. anthologies he
denotes quotes from films, music and sooo many books that you start to wonder:
is there anything he has *not* read? Indeed, what else to expect from someone
who wraps himself up in art and is such a fan of the humanities...
***
"-Upon entering an elevator, lobby, or wherever, just casually turn and look at
your shoulder and growl at it. Do a low gutteral growl and an occasional bark
or two.
-Bat away those pesky insects that only you can see.
-Stand in a corner and press up against the wall to conserve space and dart
your eyes around as if you are scared of something."
-someone at the BackYard, Shock Value
"Anyway, if you are reading this, and think it is cool to wear your
pants around your ankles, talk like a primate, and front around malls, then
please get a clue. I would pay money to see someone shoot these people. I would
pay more to see someone run up and yank down their pants and run off I think.
So 'Fuck You' nigga's."
-anon, Fuck You - Part 1
***
How very full of humor and sardonic sarcasm was this Damanstian! I was reading
these files travelling in various trains across the country. I never spoke to
anyone on these trips. These files were my company, and I was laughing at
someone telling gags, someone who wasn't even there to tell them. I was
cackling away at his razor-sharp humour, sometimes unintentionally because of
the lovely naivety of some of these texts.
So much for fun time...
***
"A little over four years ago I don't know if I really believed
this magazine would make it this far. I did have the hope and desire
for it to go a long way. The people I talked to about where it might
go all showed doubt or skepticism. This file is for them."
-dis, zen - me - zine.
***
Zen Me Zine is his gem of revenge at the scorn and all the past grudges. Having
already adopted his original persona of DisordeR, in this file he bashes those
who could not and would not understand. He realized that all the people telling
him that these texts were a stab at a blind audience have been proven dead
wrong. The fact that F.U.C.K. files are still resurrected to this very day -
not just by me, by *many* other necrophiles - is hardcore proof of how wrong
these people really were.
***
"That puts us back to square one. A big problem that has no easy
solution. Much like other problems in today's society, there seems to belittle
that can be done. I guess what really bothers me is the common sense or
fundamental lack of respect involved with this. I honestly thought it was human
nature that kept people in check. I thought that hurting someone like that
would make one develop a level of guilt that would make them seriously
reconsider their actions, and possibly stop them from doing the same thing.
...In some cases, I think they simply don't know better."
-dis, They Don't Know Better
***
His change of character is fascinating but sometimes horrible to see. His
disappointment turns into hatred, and he *hates* the ignorance he encounters in
the bored trash around him. They just don't care, they have no focus, no
direction, only bad intentions. No, it isn't just the sloppiness; he just can't
avoid encountering that trash. And it only gets more and more nasty as he
becomes more bitter and withered. There used to be an escape...
***
"Maybe, just maybe, if you are reading this, then you actually
have a brain, and you use it more than once a month. If so, then as you look
around, you must realize that you are almost alone in the real world. Why do
you think you spend so much time logged into BBSes and other online services?
Because stupidity stops when people use a modem."
-Dam(ned), file #056
"Millions of Americans own personal computer now. Each system
worth thousands of dollars. More expensive than any other item in their
house usually. Even thought they spend all those dollars on this new
machine/toy, they don't take the time to learn how to use them. They
would much rather jump on the bandwagon and learn the programs that
they actively use. It is kind of ironic that you have a machine that
is based almost 100% on logic, is being used by a person based on
1% logic."
-DisordeR, Com-Pyoo-Ter
"With all the advertising you see regarding the net, and all
the politicians promising 'information superhighways' in the future,
more and more people are signing up for services. Fact is, the net
is the furthest thing from a superhighway. A winding dirt road blocked
by trees, pits, and guards seems more appropriate. With the current
growth of people, and lack of growth of new computers hooking into the
net, seems like that road will wear out sooner than repair itself and
rebuild into a highway of any sort."
-Damanstian the DisordeR of my mind, The Old Dirt Road
"The internet is the new global means for communication. Every
day thousands of people flock to the net to jump on the great hype.
As they do, they bring new cultures, new stories, and new experiences
with them. Unfortunately they also come with sheer stupidity and annoyance.
Like before, certain online services seem to cater to these morons, but they
can be found on just about any service."
-DisordeR, Four Zero Zero
"When are you going to wake up and realize that ankle biters like
you are nothing in this world. You can't even get respect in an online
world that basically accepts everyone as equals."
-anon, Hacker Blues
***
It would take another file to explain how valuable these files are to someone
like me. When I got online, the net was already commercialized, massification
had already taken place. Everyone and their mother was already on the net - in
his case quite literally *cough*. And that was propagated as being an
essentially good thing. But here I got to see the other side of the story.
Reading about this process from DisordeR's viewpoint, someone who's extremely
annoyed by the whole deal, is a hard slap in the face, particularly that of
newbies like me. I can see how right he is. What's the point of people joining
in en masse when they don't know what it means? This is just one reason for
reading these files. But providing rational responses in an increasingly
irrational environment doesn't do him any good.
***
"If you reply to my files, don't tell me to "cheer up",
"be happy", "think happy thoughts", or any shit like that. That isn't me.It
never has been. I'm tired of pretending I think that way. Doom and gloom is
just fine with me. Crime and chaos is a good thing. You don't agree? Go be part
of the cause of it and you will feel differently about it. The world is NOT
happy. Crime DOES pay. Anyone who tells you differently has their eyes closed
or is trying to sell you something."
-DisordeR, Four Zero Zero
***
In file #400 every word is soaked with malice and anger. I don't think
DisordeR - or is it even him speaking here? - has ever sounded so vicious and
brimmed with rage. But this time DisordeR's bursts of textual violence crash
down into a new incarnation. In one of his later F.U.C.K. poems he will go on
to say: "Is it my empty existence masked in appropriate words that style masses
sympathize with?" I honestly see no style whatsoever in watching someone having
their guts torn out like that.
***
" 'At least pain is real...'
(Pump Up the Volume). Pain is real. It makes life worth living because if you
don't experience pain, you don't know the opposite, pleasure. Without one, the
other doesn't exist. If you rarely experience pain in your life, whether
physical, emotional, or whatever, then you really aren't enjoying life to its
fullest. May sound kind of weird and demented, but it is true."
-Dam(ned), file #056
"we all feel pain at times. unfortunately, we have been told that pain is
unconditionally bad, when more often than you might expect, it is good. if
nothing else, it certainly allows us to enjoy pleasure all the more."
-mea culpa, can it feel this wrong?
***
The creation of Mea Culpa is one of the worse things to read about. Some texts
that are signed as DisordeR are so heavily Mea Culpa that he's almost an
unavoidable presence that was bound to surface sooner or later. Some broken
relationships from the past haunt him, despite the apparent time span. He
recoils from the horror, yet he soaks up the pain, craving it in the sickest
way. Mea Culpa is a true masochist, slamming himself for the battering of
others, smashing himself totally disgusted. His acceptance of his guilt is
unbelievable. "I deserve this." says the text. With DisordeR I got the idea
that he was looking for a little bit of elegance and grace. Mea Culpa is
looking for pure decadence. He sees all that is wrong but he's not gonna try to
stop it. Rage, sorrow, dismay, he has been through these so many times
before. "Give up my fight".
There are only a few F.U.C.K. files actually signed with this name, but in each
one of them -and more, as he was there before he was named - you can see the
same twisted shape, all regret and guilt. It's wrenching to read. But once
again I have to admit how mesmerizing it is, despite all its sadness. What's
the point of my perverted voyeurism?
***
"a day passes, and i can't think of how to express my emotion and feeling into
text. ironic, that i write for over five years, getting compliment on how well
i can express feeling. yet this time i can not. my guilt runs deep and i know
it. if not for my actions, but the mere fact that music is lost on my ears,
food tasteless. i can't describe how much i love music, yet it all falls on
near deaf ears."
-mea_culpa, guilt in three parts
***
In Guilt In Three Part his dysfunction is laid out in the open for all to see.
What were once the continuous black undertones now almost spill out of the
screen. It reminds me of these paintings by Frida Kahlo, where the blood of the
slashed or crashed corpse actually drips out of the canvas and onto the frame.
The nakedness of this text is unmatched. I never understood how, after all
these years, he actually opened himself up like that. Was it the only way he
could deal with the pain that shattered him? The text being a tiny space he
could retreat into, as if looking for something to hide behind.
***
"It's been a fun ride."
-Disorder aka Jericho, Rest in Peace
***
I will never know what became of Mea Culpa since the story is abruptly brought
to an end. Yes, even when you are F.U.C.K.ing corpses you have to deal with
coitus interruptus. But reading these texts, I still get a message from them.
Each one of them is a nail clawing deeper into my own scars. I wonder about his
acquiescence and why he ended up like that, but I should be questioning why I
don't stop myself from reading. Apparently my voyeurism isn't as bad as I think
it is. I keep reading for the very reason that it reminds me of my own
weakness. Why do I still have to tell myself to trust my instincts, not to
debate with reason? I know that contemplating F.U.C.K. is the right thing to
do. Despite all the wicked things, there was usually a spark of that Damanstian
sarcasm prevalent in each character, allowing another sneaky smile. I turn to
these texts in pure adoration and I think that everyone who liked them as much
as they claim to will send Damanstian, DisordeR and Mea Culpa the respect and
admiration they deserve. Reading their story was certainly fun. Fun as dictated
and defined by the self, that is. Immensely rewarding. Exhume.
DeeGeneRate the necrophile