Surrealism 1995 Manifesto
Andrea Chen
In an earlier post, I mentioned the work of the original doctress
(Libby Hubbard) and I have recieved several queries.
One should note that she is a truly surrealitic being. No one is quite
sure if she is "real" or an elaborate troll (joke). Over time she has
published a series of manifestos along with many tales of her encounters.
Recently the majority of these have been with a young man in South Africa
and the tale is looking increasingly like a decent (though possibly
satirical) novel. As the mind switches back and forth over the
question of whether or not this person is real (there is a whole
cult devoted to believing in her and hating her), an interesting
"textual LSD" is created.
Readers in alt.cyberspace will know that I have devoted some effort
to allocating her "mythos" (which is part of our literary experiment).
However many of them will have missed the following fragment of
her "epic poem". For the benefit of readers in alt.surrealism, I
tag on a session with her "mythic lover". Those who wish to follow
the story (which is undergoing increasing mutation and complication)
should tune into alt.society.neutopia
Those who wish to analysis of our attempts to "program" this story should
tune into alt.cyberspace
Newsgroups: alt.society.neutopia,alt.mythology,alt.politics.sex,alt.politics.radical-left,alt.dreams,alt.society.conservatism,alt.magick.sex
Subject: THE MEANING OF WATER
THE MEANING OF WATER
by Doctress Neutopia
an canto from
_The Sagan Saga and the Search for the Gaia Messiah_
July 20-21 1990
Dedicated to Ardvisura-Anahita
Persian goddess of water and love
Water, my beloved, medium of the mystery,
movement of the body, fluid in the brain,
the universal solvent, and the waterwitch said,
"It quenches our thirst and drenches our fires."
Water, the complex molecule of the ecology
which no one has ever seen, shaper of the landscape,
determines where deserts and river valleys will be.
In liquid, solid, and gaseous states,
in all its forms, the secret behind everything!
It regulates the biosphere as at baptizes
us prophetess and prophet of the 21St Century.
Water brings us cultural intelligence,
connecter of our unity,
a new kind of benevolence,
as we drink from the holy spring.
Where was you, beloved?
Driving down the highway
on your way to Rhode Island?
Peeing in the water at a truck stop?
My car's air condition did not work
on that hot, smoggy, summer day traveling to
a conference on Cap Cod on "The Meaning of Water,"
the air so thick it stung the lungs to breath.
Will you arise from your denial to
start the politics of ecology with me?
We become dowsers into the darkness of the world soul to
find the atom of oxygen needed for the suffocating globe.
The first bureaucracy was started by the ancient
Egyptians to keep account of the Nile's flow.
As I listened to the speakers
on the biospheric stage of life,
I imagined you arriving here with
your mother dressed in a noble role
as philosopher of water,
quenching your thirst and drenching your fire
on the erotic juices of woman's love for life.
But my imagination stopped walking on water as
I realized you had no romantic zeal for me.
I could see the meaning of water so clearly,
but the meaning of life, without a lover
it was so difficult to dream!
Who would be the catalyst to make the movement
flow around the waters of the Earth?
Who is the current to propel the
motion of the water of the world?
Isn't that your role, Oracle, but still you
deny we live in the same metaphysical universe?
Water, oil in water, water being sucked into
industries passing it out with toxic wastes.
We wonder why there is so much cancer when
the nuclear industry is the worst polluter
of the water that we drink?
The navy has dumped barrels of radioactive waste into
the sea, and then shot them so they would sink.
Water, tied to energy as we pump it into the cities,
cooling deadly plutonium cores as it creates steam.
People thought what a tragedy it was
when the Valdez spilled oil into Prince Edward Sound,
when the oil was destined to maculate the ecology
in a different form as we drive around our towns?
How much longer can we stand the hideous culture
of oil making the planet a dirty place,
as governments prepare World War Three
over oil wells in the Middle East?
Have you not figured it out yet, that love
is in the mind, and what a beautiful story
it is that I am here at this conference
looking out over the water thinking
of kissing your lymphatic lips forever?
Will you be here tomorrow?
I heard your son will be.
I saw your book _Microcosmos_ on the
table and shivered when I saw your name.
Tears swelled up in my eyes when I longed for you
to be here to tell us about bioshelters in outerspace.
Have you really abandoned these ideas,
deserted the biospheric dream?
Dorion, you need to be here!
We need a Water King!
The steel drummers played as I danced for the sun,
meditating on your sacred presence,
my vulva opened to cleanse the water of the earth.
Then I heard later from Madeline, a friend of our mother,
who had just read a copy of your newest manuscript
that the title was "Mystery Dance," I realized
it was the snake dance I had been doing all my life
to try to attract you to evolving the species
with me through our divine knowledge of yin and yang.
I asked her if you had a chapter on love,
for how can one speak of human sexuality without it,
but she did not recall you using the word even once.
"Maybe in another book, but not this one," she declared.
I informed her, I had been trying to engage in
a dialogue with you on the need for a lovolution,
but that you were defensive of the idea.
Does this mean you do not want to dance
the mystery dance yourself,
you are satisfied writing books
and sunbathing on dying beaches
as people starve and wars increase?
When I asked Madeline if she had read
_Biospheres_ she frowned and said
the ideas were too far out for her.
It is going to be a lot of hard work to convince
liberals it is indeed time to change the world!
So that's why I had been reflecting on the story
I told at you at Charles' birthday party.
In the mental hospital during a disco dance,
I could not stand the music so I tune
into the music and dance inside myself.
Other patients started dancing
to a similar tuned,
disturbing the mechanized world view
which they were forced to conform to.
The psychiatrist told an assistant,
"Lock that woman in isolation before
she creates a revolutionary mind,"
so the guards twisting my arms, stripped my naked,
locked me up, and injected me with an evil drug,
for dancing to a cosmic rhyme.
Dance with me, Dorion.
Do the mystery dance.
Dance the Neutopian jig.
Dance to save the species
dance of world peace!
The ideal spot, the ideal time,
the ideal story, the ideal love,
Queen and King of Heaven and Earth!
If only you would fall in love with my words!
If only this was the unifying myth of the earth!
After lunch, life was divine as I swam in the pond
after lunch beside such powerfully poetic
minds as John and Nancy Jack Todd,
"Boats without motors, boats with sails,"
Nancy said to me, as she circled me in a canoe.
"Space colonies using solar energy sailing
throughout the universe!" I responded.
She replied, "I don't think humankind will
achieve passage to the universe until
we clean up the water of the earth."
I agreed with her, as I thought of the
cloud of car exhaust, poisoning the clouds,
contaminating New England lakes with acid rain.
While treading water another conversation
began with Anne, a Scandinavian.
She said the tent set up on the hill
looked like an Inginar Bergman film, a place
where something great was about to occur.
She was concerned with the heat up
in the war in Central America, and had heard
more buildings and students had been bombed
at the University of El Salvador,
which the U.S. press had chosen to ignore.
We discussed the need for the United Nations
to transcend nationhood and world capitalism,
and become the real home of peace by opening up
the forum to the love poetesses and poets of Gaia.
"It is the nation-state which is the cause
of all the suffering and destruction
of the biosphere," Anne stated
as she said goodbye and swam to shore.
I had tried to read a poem at the U.N.
on my first visit to New York City.
After an assembly on mercenary armies in Africa
was adjourned, I stood up from the observation
stands and said I had a poem to read about
a mercenary I had met on at bar which would
add another perspective to the world debate.
Immediately U.N. police hand cuffed me and
took me to their headquarters
to gave me the third degree.
"What nation are you from?" they inquired.
"I am a citizen of the world," I answered.
He replied, "You can't just be a world citizen.
You have to come from some nation, and only your
ambassador is allowed to speak during the sessions."
So I informed him Jean Kirkpatrick did not
represent me or any other living thing.
Still I refused to claim a national identity
even after they threatened to throw me
in the New York City jail for
disturbing world peace.
I tried to show them the poem I wanted to
read, but they refused to even give it a look.
Finally, after they realized I was not a terrorist,
they took a hug shot of me, and banished me
from the United Nations for the rest of my life.
A graduate student was floating near by.
"What is on your mind?" I asked her as she
started treading water. "I have been researching
why our mass transportation systems are inadequate.
There was a conspiracy by the auto industry
to do away with trains. The industry wanted
to sell private cars and make them the American Way.
The public never voted on cars being introduced
into society, even though it changed
the life-style more than anything previously.
Even Henry Ford was horrified with what was happening.
He could see that roads where going to be built
everywhere, disastrous to the ecology."
It was time to get out of the water
for the panel discussion underneath the tent
was beginning. This was the first event in
which the audience was able to voice an opinion.
Nancy Jack Toad was the main facilitator.
She said they were open to new
voices entering into their tribe.
David Orr started the discussion by saying
that no one had a plan for the solar age,
not even President Bush. So I asked David
if he thought the problem was revolutionary,
and what was needed a new form of governance,
perhaps a biocracy defined by theologian Thomas Berry.
David thought that democracy was the way to freedom.
Biocracy sounded too much like the same old
hierarchy for him to think it would work.
I rebutted my stating that Jefferson
believed their was a natural aristocracy.
He believed people of virtue and talent
were the aqueducts of civilization.
I said, "There are blueprints for solar powered cities
designs of Buckminster Fuller, Paolo Soleri,
and other megastructural architects with similar ideas."
Bruce Coldham, an architect of co-housing projects,
insisted that existing cities would suffice, if we
would simply put solar panels on rooftops of skyscrapers.
But I insisted the problems of the cities were radical,
the basic foundations had been demoralized by patriarchy,
racism, and oil, and we must construct new cities
built on feminist ideals which have never been built before.
Unfortunately, the controversy got cut short
by the insensitivity of the facilitator just has we
were getting down to the gripping problem of humanity.
The next event of the day was story
teller Diane Wolkstein's performance
of the world's oldest love story,
which was first told in the area now known as Iraq,
the Sumerian tale of Inanna, Queen of Heaven and Earth,
a story where water is Goddess, the place of divination.
After the performance, I asked her if she knew
anything about the artist who wrote the tale.
She did not know and handed me the book, and said
"it is time for a new global myth to be written,
but they don't happen often, once in an eon
when millennium activity is in the air."
From my insight into the making of epic love poetry,
I knew the poetess must write the truth the way
Gaia revealed itself, requiring mythmaking
in reality using advanced technology intertwined
by the essences of the world's mythic past.
After a sleepless night, I wrote part of this
tale in West Falmouth at the Ideal Spot Motel.
It seemed as though I was in ecstasy again, as I wished
I could foresee what the day would bring to light.
I laid in bed and thought of the meaning of water,
your fountain of youth ejaculating into my cosmic womb!
The next morning before the conference,
Venus went swimming in the great sea
in her dancing suit, but most of her time
she spent picking up trash on the beach,
plastic coke bottles, bags, and cups,
a bottle of olives from the Middle East
to bring back to the conference to see
if John Toad could recycle the debris.
As she was working, a man said to her,
"Why bother? It would take several
life times to clean up this mess.
Humans don't deserve to live!"
During the morning speeches,
I was on edge wondering if you would arrive, so it
was hard for me to concentrate on the slide shows
in the barn, until Earle Barnhart showed a slide
of an utopian cityscape, the Garden of Eden,
a biosphere underneath a dome.
He told me later that we had all the technology to
create futuristic cities. I added that what we
needed now was a philosopher of the paradise metaphor
to rise on the world scene to make the movement grow.
Renee walked into the barn after another
a slide show had begun. She sat in back of me.
Was she the one who came with your mother, and you
stayed in Amherst to play basketball with the boys?
Renee's van had broken down on the highway,
so she could not make the conference yesterday.
She had come alone. Oh how sad we were not in
communication, for she could have driven down
with me saving her the gasoline and the agitation!
During the next speaker who I wasn't getting much
from, I started drawing a picture in my note book.
"Are you an artist?" asked the red
headed gentleman sitting next to me.
He looked at my drawings and exclaimed,
"So you draw your dreams."
"Yes," I answered, "I draw from the unconscious.
Sometimes I don't know that they mean, whether
or not they are messages from this planet
for from some distance galaxy."
"I am part artist and part scientist,"
he whispered in my ear,
"and have invented a machine which can see
other ecosystems invisible to the naked eye.
He showed me photographs of spirits in other dimensions.
His machine reads the energy of electromagnetic fields,
but only people with artistic minds would see the spirits
in the photographs. He said most scientists were too
skeptical to believe the images in the photographs were real.
He did not know what relationship the spirits had
with our world, whether they were benevolent or malevolent,
but they were effected every time an atomic bomb was tested.
Ghosts we have not been able to see until now,
and the inventor thought that with this knowledge
we could travel to other galaxies to inhabit
other planets without using spaceships.
Suddenly, I was startled when Greg Watson,
director of New Alchemy Institute,
the only Afro-American at the conference, walked
in the barn wearing the T-shirt you had designed.
Your hand holding up the biospheric world,
the hand which touched me so deeply
sending me into an oceanic state,
stirring the primeval waters of my soul with the
thought that I had found my authentic mate.
But still you had not shown up, as morning ticked to noon,
and then the sound of a boy's voice playing outside the barn.
Mother Life had appeared in time for the morning break!
But no Dorion. You had not come.
You were somewhere else in body, but where was your soul?
I reflected on the overwhelming trance I had experienced
last night while watching John Toad's slide show on making
human sludge pure water using tanks of fish and plants.
Was I connecting with the Ghosts, or with your Cosmic Self?
Should I let my hopes and aspirations tumble violently
over Niagara Falls, and come to grips that you are really
not a part of this movement at all, only an imposter,
a fake, riding the wave of your mother's fortune and fame?
During the break, Mother Life was talking to Renee and Madiline.
I walked up to them. She committed on my name tag and
curiously asked, "Doctor Neutopia, who is that? Is Neutopia
the place where the banners hang outside the house?"
I replied, "Neutopia was a word first used by John Lennon and
Yoko Ono, a vision of a new ecological myth. The ecologist
and the neutopian must work together in this global quest."
I reflected on the words of educator Warren Bennis,
"Every great breakthrough in science, every scientific
revolution, has also been a poetic revolution because
it has created a new paradigm of thought."
Love was the energy behind poetic revolutions.
I knew that was the reason I had falled in love with you.
The next speaker in the barn was Christina Rawley
who show how important water was to the people of Asia.
They worshipped the ghosts and worshipped the water.
During her presentation she had to stop talking
for the noise of military jets were so overpowering.
I yelled out, "Is it a bomber?" And Venus shouted back,
"Yes, there are thousands in this land of purgatory."
While serving lunch, I asked Arthur Zajonc about the
platonic concept of water which he described in his lecture.
Did he think Plato's geometric form for water was true?
He said he did, but without mythology, the science
becomes raped of the spirit of the unseen molecule.
I had a chance to eat a quick lunch at Mother Life's table
where she was talking to a young biologist about how
difficult it was to do independent research inside the
academic-corporate structure.
I asked her what she thought of John Toad's
new business adventure, Ocean Arks International, where he
was trying to use his living machine to make a profit.
She said it was a complicated situation,
but that the Todds' millionaire patron over the years, was
demanding a payment, insisting on results for his investment.
After lunch, your son Tonio was playing
in the back of Mother Life's blue car.
I went to talk to him, and ask were you were.
Tonio was playing with something which looked
like an oil well, or was it a guillotine?
There was a canon beside it which
he was pretending to fire.
"Tonio," I addressed him, "every time
I see you, you are playing war games.
Do you really want to kill somebody, or
be drafted in the marines, and be trained to
shot someone who you don't even know their name,
or have your legs blown up, or your head cut off
like the boys experience in the war in Vietnam?"
He stopped playing, and looked up at me and said,
"What else is there to do?"
I replied, "To find your role in the new paradigm
where war is obsolete. There are other games
you can play, like playing in the water,
or smelling a rose, or catching
a frog and then letting it go."
Tonio stated sadly, "I wish my friend was here."
Later on that day, Venus also had to scold
Tonio after he shot a futuristic space canon
at her as she was walking out of the water.
"Don't point that gun at me!" she demanded.
How could Mother Life allow
her grandson to play with toy weapons?
She probably raised her son the same way.
No wonder we are having such problems!
But how could society expect a woman who
has made a major contribution to science
to also be a expert child care worker,
and children's educator?
I became very clear about the effects
war toys do to boys, when Venus and I were
at the World Futurist Society Conference
at the Sheron Hilton Hotel in D.C. in 1989.
After walking around the Futurist Exhibition Hall,
intrigued with an exhibit on Fuller's World Game,
Venus took me to another exhibition
happening at the other end of the floor,
an exhibit on unmanned military aircraft.
Arm merchants from all over the world
were showing off their rockets.
The boys never out grew their aggression,
only now they spend billions
of dollars on their toys of mass destruction.
Before the final sessions of the day,
Venus was talking to Nancy Toad at a table.
This was my opportunity to ask her
the question I had been pondering all day.
I wanted to know how she and John met, and if
she felt their union was for a spiritual reason.
She said they met in Canadian high school, where she
was every involved in issues of peace, and their
first attraction was based on sex, but after
a while they knew that New Alchemy was
their mission together, and why they had met.
When Nancy introduced the afternoon talk
by Lynn Margulis on Water and Gaia,
she said she was the most famous microbiologist
in the world, and truly her lecture demonstrated
why her fame had grown around the globe.
Margulis stated, "The planet should be called water
for it is water, not earth which is the maker of life."
Oh Mr. Biosphere, we must change the name of Earth
to Planet Water, a feminine symbol of peace
for the solar epoch, from the deadly industries
of patriarchy, to a partnership of sun and water!
Finally the forum was opened up again.
Wes Jackson and William Irwin Thompson
got into a verbal fight about what
the new community should look like.
Wes thought we could only act locally to clean up
the mess, and Thompson saw the world in terms of Jazz,
music as the bases for the culture of the future
as computers allow us to improvise with each other
around the world in seconds flat.
Thompson observed that even though the world
seemed to be getting more racist, teenagers
were all wearing the same clothes
and listening to the same music, but Jackson
said we needed communities based on tribalism.
Enthusiastically, I raised my hand to speak
for I had been thinking about the concept
of tribalism for hours the previous night.
"Tribalism is the root of war,"
I said looking at the audience.
"It's a new world culture founded
on the principles of the ecology
which will save humanity, a government
where the artists and scientists are free
to establish the gaia hypothesis as reality,
where ancient wisdom and new technology
creates a beautiful world community."
I concluded with mysticism,
"Water is one, so we must live as one,
and become the global brain."
Thompson gave the final speech of the day.
He talked of Platonic love and how we are
the medium between the Gods and the beasts.
But now we are being controlled by the beasts,
the global corporations which do not enlighten
but entertain, distracting us from the
dismal problems of the age.
To close the conference, Nancy Toad
ask us to close our eyes and image
the water of the world clean again,
and then for a moment of silence.
An actress broke the silence by
reciting an Shakespearean Epilogue,
words from a speech from the Tempest,
"We are such stuff as dreams are made on,
and our little life is rounded with a sleep."
And the last line was from Romeo and Juliet.
Yes, I knew the dream was a love story,
the only kind evolutionary enough to renew the
drinking water to become good, pure, and sweet.
Then as if I would burst if I did not speak,
I projected my voice as an actress of
the global stage of life, a poetess who
had seen the aura of the prophet of the future.
"Image Neutopia!" I said with valor.
Then it was over, the meaning of water had spoken.
Since I was on a partial scholarship, I needed to
help clean up, so I walked forward on the road while
saying goodbye to the people I had met, wondering
if Mother Life was offended by my nonconformity.
To my delight, Mother Life taped me on the back.
She asked me if the conference was worth coming to.
I said, "To hear the most famous biologist speak?
Of course it was," and she smiled humbling
saying Nancy had overestimated her.
"Where did you stay last night?" she asked.
I answered, "The Ideal Spot Motel."
"Was it the ideal spot?" she said with laughter.
"No," I responded, "The ideal spot is here,
at this conference, talking to you this very moment."
She continued the discussion she was having with a man
walking beside her, telling him about her first time she met
James Lovelock in 1961 at a conference, but she couldn't
connect because of all the big mouths flocking around him.
It was time for me to help break down
the tables and empty the coffee cans.
"Where do we dump this toxic water?" we thought as
we poured the coffee on the grass behind the house.
After my duty was over, most of the conferees had left for
other destinations, but I felt I must swim in the water
one last time before heading back to Amherst.
Shortly after diving in the pond, Peter Warshall,
an ecological engineer, working on the Biosphere II
project in Arizona entered the water.
Oh perfect timing, I thought to myself, since I wanted to
talk to him during the conference, but didn't get a chance.
I asked him about the leadership of the revolutionary
project which was making the first closed bioshelter
essential for colonizing outerspace.
He said that somedays he was loved by the cult,
and other days hated, but if he was the king,
the project would run differently.
He would not have people involved in the beginning stages
of the project, testing Margulis's theory to see
if microorganisms were indeed the rulers of the planet.
Then I asked him if he had read your book on biospheres,
and what he thought of it. He had read it, and thought
it was lightweight, and that a good book on the science
of biospheric technology had not been written yet.
"What about Sagan's philosophic vision?" I asked. "Do you
think gaia is trying to reproduce itself through us?"
He replied, "His theory is bullshit for the cost of
shipping bits of earth into outerspace would cost too much."
Warshall obviously did not understand that
Gaia's reproduction was beyond market economics.
As Wes Jackson stated: we don't need economic renewal,
but an economy of restoration, where clean water is the
bath ritual and the ultimate law of survival.
But where were you to defend your beautiful vision?
Was I going to have to stand up for your theory, even
though you had washed your hands of the poetic mission?
How tragic that you detest me so,
when I have become your advocate until the blood
in my body returns to the all-encompassing hydrosphere.
Warshall was leaving the pond as Venus was
getting in. I began conversing with Arthur Bain who
was starting a Journal of Planetary Transformation,
and asked me if I was the woman who had spoken at the forum.
"Yes, I am Doctor Neutopia," I introduced myself to him.
He continued, "When I asked Lynn Margulis to give me
names of people writing about planetary transformation,
she said I should talk to you.
She called you a transformationist, and said you
knew about people involved in the change."
Oh what joy his words gave me, that Mother Life
recognized me as someone involved
in this planetary movement, when I thought
she might think I was crazy, since you
had said to me one day in the park that
all of your friends thought I was insane.
"Yes, I am a tranformationist," I thought to myself
as we swam, and I told him I considered myself
an prophetess. He asked, "Is a prophetess
someone who has insight into the future,
or someone who makes the future?"
I thought about it and replied, "Makes the future
with the help of the Goddess," laughing to myself
at the humor that for the past six months
I had been trying to transform Mother Life's son
into a lightbeam destined to help save the planet.
Driving to Amherst, Venus and I rejoiced at the
triumph of the day, that Mother Life respected
me as an intellectual in the crusade.
Arriving home, my heart was filled with glee,
until I asked Charles what he had done that day.
He had played basketball with Dorion.
So you were playing basketball!
My intuition was correct.
Psychically, you had to make contact with Charles,
didn't you, to tell him your big news which hit
me like an iron rod lodged within my heart.
Over the telephone that weekend
Dorion asked Kelly to marry him.
His plan was for her to come live with him in
Amherst for a year while he applied to
graduate school, then he would promise to
live in Manhattan with her the following year.
Oh no, Gaia don't let it be true!
Has he forsaken the movement of life on
Planet Water to become part of the status quo?
From high to low my spirit sank to the
bottom of the waters of oblivion where the radioactive
waste had leaked into the underground streams.
Without love
the mid-summer night's dream of cleaning up the water
became an impossible nightmare as the battle
between the King and Queen of Solar Energy
continued to desecrate the land.
In a daze, I stumbled throughout the alienated
neighborhood, sobbing for the eternal soul of man,
the flood of tears unable to transform him to realizing
the vastly deep serpent power inside the global brain.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Newsgroups: alt.society.neutopia,alt.feminism,alt.soulmates,alt.cyberpunk,alt.romance.chat,alt.politics.sex,alt.wired
Subject: Love letters/Geertjan and the Doctress (2)
From neutopia Thu Nov 17 04:45:48 1994
~Subject: Re: Are you receiving my mail? -Reply
To: WIELENGA%LAW...@gate.cc.unp.ac.za (Geertjan Wielenga)
~Date: Thu, 17 Nov 1994 04:45:48 -0500 (EST)
~From: "Doctress Neutopia" <neutopia@titan>
Are you online?
Meet me and Megan in the Forest now.
You have some heavy lessons to learn about True Love.
Neutopia
-----------------------------------------------------------------
~Date: Thu, 17 Nov 1994 14:20:04 +0200
~From: Geertjan Wielenga <WIELENGA%LAW...@gate.cc.unp.ac.za>
~Subject: Please Read the Following Carefully
To: NEUT...@educ.umass.edu
Doctress,
At no point have I said that I have never had netsex with anyone
before. However, on that afternoon before you went for your UMASS
Talks interview we really and truly committed ourselves to each
other. Since then I have had netsex with no-one. You should be
able to believe me, based on what you know about me already.
If you can't believe me, then maybe this relationship is well and
truly over.
But we know each other well enough to realise that we wouldn't
lie to each other. I wouldn't lie to you, Doctress. I don't play
with people - especially not with you.
But in the final analysis you must do whatever you think you
should do. I've told you before that I never want to convince
anyone to love me or to be with me or to do anything for me.
Being with me must be your own choice, and believing in me is
similarly your own choice too. I love you - and I want you.
Believing that is up to you.
In love,
Geertjan
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
From neutopia Thu Nov 17 13:52:34 1994
~Subject: Gut feelings
To: WIELENGA%LAW...@gate.cc.unp.ac.za (Geertjan Wielenga)
~Date: Thu, 17 Nov 1994 13:52:34 -0500 (EST)
~From: "Doctress Neutopia" <neutopia@titan>
Dearest Profound Poet,
I really don't know who I am writing this to, only some noble
poet in my mind, someone who loves me so deeping and intensely that
the entire world is moved by our revolutionary orgasm. I have been
seeking that *kind* of metaphysical union for eons, but I look around
me and I see a world lusting for money, power, sex, and fame. I see
the world fucking itself over and over again in mindless pursuits of
pleasure, only in the end to find loneness and isolation as the planetary
ecology crumbles. This kind of spiritual union few know, but it
is essential for life to continue on Earth. The sacred marriage of the
Chosen Ones form an aristocracy from within, founded on the poetic
principle of True Love.
The quality and depth of this union binds the world back together
by making our erotic passions have a profound meaning once again.
I know you must exist World Soul, my beloved epoch-making hero,
because I exist. The human species needs us to guide the way
into the Golden Age of Love. I passionately wait for you to recognize
my prophetic calling so that in unison we can work to build Neutopia.
I await thee, Holy One. I await your eternal flame breathing life back
into my dying body.
Awake from the Sleep,
Doctress Neutopia
---------------------------------------------------------------------
~Date: Thu, 17 Nov 1994 19:26:30 +0200
~From: Geertjan Wielenga <WIELENGA%LAW...@gate.cc.unp.ac.za>
~Subject: Re: Are you receiving my mail? -Reply -Re
To: NEUT...@educ.umass.edu
Doctress,
I understand that you are hurt, Doctress. To suddenly be
confronted by ex-netsex lovers of mine is certainly not pleasant.
I should have told you about everyone I knew before. But I have
thought for a long time that that would be unnecessary - I did
not want to complicate issues. But now things are *very*
complicated. And I am sorry for causing you pain.
I gave you the telnet number for Forest while realising that
Megan [a Super User on Forest] and Lemon are both regular [very
regular] users of that telnet talker. If I was still having
netsex with them, I surely wouldn't have given you that telnet
code, would I? Only now that my relationship with them, and
everyone else, is over can I be in a position to give you that
telnet number. In other words, as I said, I have not had netsex
with anyone since that afternoon [it was actually early morning
here!].
Well, anyway, I understand if you do not want to write to me or
know me anymore. I would love to continue to be your Cyberlover
and I would love to meet you in real life to see if we are really
compatible. But if that is not possible, then I wish you the very
best. Perhaps our lovolutionary roles will result in us meeting
one day anyway!
Please write back if you can believe my sincerity.
Lovolutionary greetings
Geertjan
--------------------------------------------------------------------
~Date: Thu, 17 Nov 1994 23:55:47 +0200
~From: Geertjan Wielenga <WIELENGA%LAW...@gate.cc.unp.ac.za>
~Subject: Somehow I Got Logged Out...
To: NEUT...@educ.umass.edu
Message-id: <9411180851....@gate.cc.unp.ac.za>
Content-transfer-encoding: 7BIT
X-Gateway: iGate, (WP Office) vers 2.01a - 1008
Status: OR
Doctress,
Somehow I got logged out of Forest. I'm sorry, but I'm sure I'll
see you there again soon.
Thankyou for being you.
My love,
Geertjan
-----------------------------------------------------------------
From neutopia Wed Nov 23 14:54:51 1994
~Subject: I am dying
To: Wielenga%law...@gate.cc.unp.ac.za
~Date: Wed, 23 Nov 1994 14:54:51 -0500 (EST)
I think you ought to know that I am not in good mental health.
My insides are all messed up and I feel a lot of pain and mental
torment. It has to do with you not writing me letters. I feel that you
no longer what to correspond with me. Please help. We need to really
communicate with each other and complete the conversation, so that I
know where I stand with you. If you have any compassion, please end
the conversation with me, or lets go to a state of union. I can no longer
stand being on the edge. It is too much like insanity. This is the
time when I need you here the most, and when you are not here I get
very confused. Should I plan the lovolution without you?
Most earnestly,
Doctress Neutopia
--------------------------------------------------------------------
~Date: Wed, 23 Nov 1994 22:47:07 +0200
~From: Geertjan Wielenga <WIELENGA%LAW...@gate.cc.unp.ac.za>
~Subject: Adam and Eve: Where Are We?
To: NEUT...@external.umass.edu
Doctress,
I am sorry for not writing to you for a while. I have been very
busy planning a trip to Cape Town and I have been trying to make
a little bit of money by making adverts and menus for people [I'm
not sure if I told you that I'm quite involved in graphic design
on the computer].
Doctress, whenever I think of you and me I get an image of Adam
and Eve in the Garden of Eden: Living in paradise [in our case
the Internet]; naming animals [in our case coming to terms with
the implications of the Net and naming our rooms, for example];
loving each other [well, no examples needed here!]; being with
each other and fellowshipping with the Universe. However, the
Unforgivable Sin occurred. They were sent out of the Garden,
Doctress. They were sent out. Their relationship was not what it
was before. The very purity and perfection of their intial
relationship made the awfulness of the Sin all the more awful.
They could not go on in their state of innocence. Their
relationship with themselves and their surroundings was over -
they could not live as they had before.
Doctress, think carefully. No matter what we verbalise to each
other, in your inner most being can you draw a parallel between
our situation and that of Adam and Eve? Please Doctress, I don't
know if we [thanks to my lie] have crossed the boundaries which
we have implicitly set for ourselves.
The question essentially is this:
1. Are we merely in a new part of the Garden?
2. Are we in the process of leaving the Garden?
3. Are we outside the Garden already?
If the answer is "2" or "3" then we can still ask whether or not
we can live OUTSIDE of the Garden. Just because we have lost that
state of innocence does not mean that we have automatically lost
all possibility of togetherness. It might ean that, but it does
not mean that *automatically*.
Think on these things.
In love,
Geertjan
PS: I didn't find the article in Newsweek...
------------------------------------------------------------
From neutopia Wed Nov 23 15:52:14 1994
~Subject: Let meet now. Are you still around.
To: WIELENGA%LAW...@gate.cc.unp.ac.za (Geertjan Wielenga)
~Date: Wed, 23 Nov 1994 15:52:14 -0500 (EST)
~From: "Doctress Neutopia" <neutopia@titan>
Look if we are the New Eve and Adam,
thank the Goddess we get another chance.
Write back
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
~Date: Wed, 23 Nov 1994 22:58:13 +0200
~From: Geertjan Wielenga <WIELENGA%LAW...@gate.cc.unp.ac.za>
~Subject: Let meet now. Are you still around. -Rep
To: NEUT...@external.umass.edu
Message-id: <9411232253....@gate.cc.unp.ac.za>
Content-transfer-encoding: 7BIT
X-Gateway: iGate, (WP Office) vers 2.01a - 1008
Status: OR
Doctress, yes I am here. Going to Forest right now.