,            ____,         (                     17/11/01  anada473  ,
   / \  ,_____  (--|_\_,,_, _  _| _    __________ ,-.______ _,---._ __ _/ \
  /   \+------    _|  ) | |(_|(_|(_|_  .net------/  )----.-'       `./-/   \
 /    /          (        |__,                  (  (   ,'            `/    /|
 \   /                                           \  `-"             \'\   / |
  \ /      "The Layman's Guide to Gambling"       `.              ,  \ \ /  |
   Y--------                             ----------/`.          ,'-`----Y   |
  /                   by Infernal                 (            ; mEoW!@/|   '
 i________________________________________________|  ,-.    ,-'_______/ |  /
   |                                              |  | (   *            | /
   |____________________ Anada is cat-friendly! __)  |__\  `.___________|/
                                                  `--'   `--'

        "I'll talk to you soon," she says, as if that's an answer.  It's
 not.  Who is going to talk to me now?  I won't be the same person in two 
 days.  The things I taste on my gamey tongue tonight will be ghosts on 
 Wednesday.  The buzzing neon antidote and the cavernous hollow antacid 
 depression that brought it on will be paper-thin by morning, reduced 
 from living, spitting characters to tissue pastiche of their vibrant 
 selves, snake skins pinned to a backdrop called the past and shown in a 
 museum full of mummy farts and bone dust.

        "I'll call you back," he says, as if that's an answer.  Doesn't he
 know that my sage advice curdles like a milkshake in the Serengheti under
 the sunlight of passing time?  Does he not see the grimace on my face as
 the antlike columns of bacteria march into my words of wisdom and piss them 
 into vinegar and chalk froth, not fit to serve the dog?  Can't anyone 
 recognize the importance of seizing the moment, of grabbing it like a 
 flyaway railing on a roller coaster and clutching it as if it meant your 
 very life?

        What do these people want from me?  All I have is this moment, and
 it doesn't come with a lifetime guarantee.  I could be dead, famous, or in 
 jail in forty-eight hours.  This time tomorrow, I might be sucking your 
 dick for a quarter, or you might not be worth the shine on my shoes to 
 get on my guest list.  Who knows?  I sure as hell don't, and I'd lay 
 money that you don't either.  So if you want me, or you want something 
 from me, haste is your best ally, because the market is a fickle and 
 fluctuating floor -- none of us know what a word from my lips'll be 
 worth when the sun sets tomorrow.  So pay your money and take your 
 chance, because it's a speculator's market.  Put the chips on the line 
 and let the wheel spin.  Say a prayer to the muse of your choosing, then 
 use both hands and dig right in.  Because you, I, we never know.  And 
 that's the only safe bet at this table, jack.

 /\___/\ ____________________________________________________________ /\___/\
 \ -.- /                                                              \ -.- /
 `-.^.-' (c) 2001 Anada e'zine                            by Infernal `-.^.-'
   /"\ ________________________________________________________________ /"\