DIY History | Transcribe | Hevelin Fanzines | Fanfare, whole no. 10, December 1943

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Fanfare, whole no. 10, December 1943

Page 47

a few weeks respite in which to regain a measure of my former carefree nature, & achieve "normality" once more. I succeeded to a certain extent, but never again was I quite the same. Outwardly I seemed no different than before, (cheerful, industrious, etc, etc.) but if one looked deep into my eyes - no, deeper still - ah, see it? That shadow lurking there! Oh, you think it's only the shadows cast by the bags under my eyes? No, friend, no. Ah, that it were that simple. A happy man would I be; able to go out into the world to face anyone - yet, it is not destined to be. For dwell as I may in the phantasmagoria of the mind, Reality ever intrudes. I see myself for what I am - *Gulp!* - a Stf Addict! Ugggh!
   Following the two week layoff, I was fed gradually increasing doses until I could digest a Schachner novelette without even shuddering! Then - & this was the final push that sent me hurtling into the Abyss - he sent me out to buy my own! 
   I passed that establishment 24 times before working up the necessary courage even to enter - the once I did, the rest followed a bit easier. Even so, I almost catapulted out of that place, so overcome with shame was I. I'll never forget that look the man gave me, a glance that mingled pity with understanding, & an involuntary tinge of mild contempt.
   When I emerged onto the sidewalk, the people near me looked up to see if the sun had emerged from behind the clouds. But when they saw me, with it clutched to my chest & face flaming, they turned away quickly, trying their best to conceal their expressions. 
   How I ever reached home I will never know. Everyone I chanced to meet had that look in their eyes, scornful eyes, pitying eyes.
   I was so disgusted with myself when I finally did get home, I threw that offending object into a corner, & locked myself into my room. Then I started to beat my head against the wall, to still the turmoil in my poor, tortured brain. Having calmed down somewhat, I paced restlessly to & from thinking, thinking, anything to divert my mind from that thing that lay in the corner outside.
   I fought against it as well as I could, (cont. p. 49)

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a few weeks respite in which to regain a measure of my former carefree nature, & achieve "normality" once more. I succeeded to a certain extent, but never again was I quite the same. Outwardly I seemed no different than before, (cheerful, industrious, etc, etc.) but if one looked deep into my eyes - no, deeper still - ah, see it? That shadow lurking there! Oh, you think it's only the shadows cast by the bags under my eyes? No, friend, no. Ah, that it were that simple. A happy man would I be; able to go out into the world to face anyone - yet, it is not destined to be. For dwell as I may in the phantasmagoria of the mind, Reality ever intrudes. I see myself for what I am - *Gulp!* - a Stf Addict! Ugggh! Following the two week layoff, I was fed gradually increasing doses until I could digest a Schachner novelette without even shuddering! Then - & this was the final push that sent me hurtling into the Abyss - he sent me out to buy my own! I passed that establishment 24 times before working up the necessary courage even to enter - the once I did, the rest followed a bit easier. Even so, I almost catapulted out of that place, so overcome with shame was I. I'll never forget that look the man gave me, a glance that mingled pity with understanding, & an involuntary tinge of mild contempt. When I emerged onto the sidewalk, the people near me looked up to see if the sun had emerged from behind the clouds. But when they saw me, with it clutched to my chest & face flaming, they turned away quickly, trying their best to conceal their expressions. How I ever reached home I will never know. Everyone I chanced to meet had that look in their eyes, scornful eyes, pitying eyes. I was so disgusted with myself when I finally did get home, I threw that offending object into a corner, & locked myself into my room. Then I started to beat my head against the wall, to still the turmoil in my poor, tortured brain. Having calmed down somewhat, I paced restlessly to & from thinking, thinking, anything to divert my mind from that thing that lay in the corner outside. I fought against it as well as I could, (cont. p. 49)