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It’s visible

The plain attraction from him to her

The way she smiles can shatter his grasp on reality.

Her scent, nascent and barely there

Straightens his neck, cranks his eyes back and across

The field of dreams where he runs, dizzily contemplating

A perfect flower’s birth.

Her skin, butter-soft, yet firm with tone and care

Bades his flesh come.

Her voice, untouched by the ash and haze of humankind’s gloom

Speaks of angels, beauty, mystery, and ecstasy.

She tastes like honey happiness, deep brown chocolate, the purest nougat

Always fulfilling, never full.

 

His desire runs rampant

Like a beast in the forest, pursued by dogs, hawks, and men

Intent on its destruction.

Dodging obstacles, spanning chasms, and climbing cliffs in its path,

The need of any end spurs the flame to great heights

Where at once it is extinguished with the same word used to control destiny:

No.

 

But he’s been wrapped, boxed, and bowed! Does she not see what’s been given on this holiday,

A night like any other, yet different in content?

Untie the bow, remove the box, and unwrap the bundle. What do we have here but

A freely-given, like-new

SOUL! One offered to share and be shorn naked for all to see its flaws, its cracks, its sheen that needs polishing.

One placed in the pile of unfinished business, the I’ll get to its, the maybe laters.

 

She is not some Hera or Aphrodite

She is a woman, yes, and special it makes her

But she is not perfect

Yet he loves her

He is not perfect

Yet she shuns him

Places the gift back in the wrapping, boxed up, and bowed

Once again, a gift on the doorstep of a nameless she

Who will regift and return to sender.

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Here’s a list of the new wrinkles I gained in my brain today:

  • Fast food is ALWAYS bad for you, regardless if it smells great
  • Mom’s cooking was always amazing
  • Dad’s grilling matched up to it
  • Family is a terrible thing to neglect
  • Balance and symmetry are beautiful
  • Angles yield to curves
  • Dancing is one of the most intimate forms of contact we humans can have
  • I will never, ever, ever understand women or the effects they have on the male half of our species.

The TV screen is blank I stare at the world around me and wonder WTF is the deal why do I hurt why did I hurt her how can I fix things…too many pies that have had my hand in them now lie rarely used on the side of my journey’s road I wanna get to and do all of them at once without my fingers hurting as I type this noise out but fear enters the equation and skews things to ends untold.

I RELEASE YOU, FEAR! Into the world you go to cause pain, terror and anguish to untold billions, with the fraction of a small percentage being able to rise above you and conquer you, make you their lapdog. All others are bound to you, bound in your grip of iron-sulfur pain, the delicate writhings of blood coursing through your veins, on your hands, on your soul. You frighten me and make me sick, for I asked to live in a world without fear, and was denied with a stamp that showed I was found unworthy and sent home to repack my things and get my life in order.

The boxes remain sealed, the drawers remain empty.

No one moves on without moving.

I do miss her still. Wouldst thou leave my thoughts and fly into yonder star? Thine actions would bring great relief to my soul.

I RELEASE YOU, FLAME! Out into the world you go, to live happily on the arm of another, doting, praying, smiling, and dying with the one of your choice, feeling the warm body of love and kindness next to you…something which you were loathe to accept from me. Run toward the yellow-peach light of bounty, pride, forgiveness, and satisfaction—run as fast as you can toward the new day, the sunrise of your life you’ve seen coming when I was timezones behind.

I AM READY, DESTINY! Ready to seize my own future with a deathgrip, willing to abandon myself to the track I was set to follow, and able—through training, experience, and luck—to burn into the mad streetrace of life and pump 900 horsepower of BADASS through my pipes.

Goodbye, fear. I am no longer your puppet.

Goodbye, flame. I wish you the best and wish you no more.

Hello, destiny. I am ready to rock.

I wrote a song last night
The lyrics about them
The people in my life, that
Fill my heart with rippling dissonance.

A verse apiece to salve my mortal wounds.

First, the elders of my soul.
They teach me the bright path of truth,
The one destined for greatness and salvation, early in my youth
Then turn around and slash it to bloody ribbons
In front of my eyes.

Next, the kin and kith.
Those whose eyes looked up to me with trust and admiration
I have failed again, again, again
The bright eyes now tarnished to a dull gleam by age and experience
None too happy, some too sad to mention
All along the watchtower, snipers hold the red dot
On our hearts.

Finally, the fists in velveteen.
One pulls, another pushes, a third sobs in outrage.
They never seem to see the point
I just want to love and be loved.
Are your veils opaque?does beauty make you blind?
Can you not see a good thing when it looks you in the face?
Te amo, te amo, pero por que correamo?

I’ve waited too long to pick the strings
Haven’t listened hard enough to hear the sounds
Of a small cry in the wilderness, saying, “Come home”.

Lately, I’ve been seeing a local girl, but as of yesterday, it seems that the kindness and semi-attraction she showed me were all a farce.
I had really high hopes for a relationship with this girl: she was smart, beautiful, good with cars and my family, and a helluva dancer….but the negative quality I never saw (while others did) was that she was a player of the highest order; a savant of mens’ heartstrings. Yes, some of us guys do feel deep feelings and were not brought up to repress them.

Aaaaanyway, I digress. Back to the story.

Our history has been shaky at best. She’s attended school with me for a long time, but it’s been only recently that I’ve let myself out of the dark long enough to make serious approaches at anyone. She was with a few acquaintances of mine, hopping back and forth among them like a locust among the leaves. I blew into her pile, and while she used me as a perch for a while, there was no love lost for me when she leapt to the next falling leaf.

In real-people-speak, this is what happened:

I started attending swing dance on Thursdays on a whim, and found many reasons to keep coming back. The instruction and dance itself was intoxicating; I felt the bonds of life being taken off my shoulders while I was in that room, learning, fumbling, and finally getting a turn right under the watchful eye of one dance pro or another. She
lit the floor up as she spun, her dress trailing behind her like a shadow veil.

I was hooked…and I had no choice but to ask her to dance. Through the summer weeks that followed, I became more confident in my swing skills, while the attraction I felt to her grew exponentially stronger. We started hanging out regularly and going on in-town dates, and I thought this might blossom into a new relationship between us.

A little bit before school started, she asked to meet me at a park in town in very cryptic terms (“…I’d love to talk to you, if you have the time. Something really important” and the like). I obliged. It was a gorgeous day in late summer, and I felt that nothing could go wrong that day.
It turns out that another ladyfriend of mine who I have a crush on (and who is prolly crushin on me too, but I can only handle one lady at a time please!) ended up cornering the girl I’d been dating and firmly told her to be kind and not break my heart, as she and others cared about me deeply. I was touched by this; no one had ever shown care of that manner to me before, and I said a silent thank-you to the lady in the wings.
The park visit turned into a conversation of what we had going for us, and how she’d like to take things. She asked me to take it slow, and I told her that I preferred doing it that way from the start. She seemed relieved, and our conversation turned to ordinary things.

Fast-forward to around a month later (last week ish). I planned a dinner at my place for just the two of us. The menu was set to be seafood and asparagus, simple yet well made. Then I contracted food poisoning followed by strep, killing the Friday dinner plans dead. I asked her to raincheck it for a week while I healed up, and she agreed.
I was at work the following Wednesday night. Between song requests, I checked up on facebook, and it was there that the last four days’ downward spiral started. She wrote me of (just-remembered) prior plans to be in Albuquerque on our rainchecked date. I was kinda pissed, but it needed to slide. I shot her a message about moving the dinner date to Saturday or Sunday, and received a firm no as a response, as she had made plans for the weekend. That darkened my mood further, but I resolved to chin up and make the best of this situation. “Guess what?” I told myself. “I can work on the car all weekend and get it working well again!”
A good friend needed some emotional support Friday night, so I suggested we head out to the Stage Door and catch a munch. The friend and I arrived at the restaurant, and started talking about the various topics of stuff that bugged us (consisted mostly of things about our “significant others”, as she had just been dumped, and I was in uncharted waters with my lady). About half an hour into the conversation, who but the lady I was enamored with walked out from the back room on the arm of her “special friend” who I had met once previously and about whom I had suspected a deeper connection with my enamorata. Here, we four entered into the classic awkward situation: my good friend, sitting across from me, frozen still in the motions of “OMG” and “quick! Look who’s here!”; the “guy friend” chillin out in the background, and eyeing the situation with a sort of disinterest; my interest, whose eyes were locked in an embarrassed/surprised/”oh shit” sorta manner; and myself, who managed to continue the phone conversation I was in (helping yet another friend out in Houston), munch my food, glance at my good friend at the table with a nonbelieving look, and wave a very fake-looking hello complemented with a smile only God could have turned sincere.

They left, and I wanted to sink through the floor in pain and anger. “So she gives me all this noise about having plans in ALBUQUERQUE, and where do I find her? Sitting around locally with this guy I’ve met before that I know is in love with her! WHAT-THE-FAAAACK!” I scream-whisper to my friend across from me. Damn, that hurt!
This morning, I checked my facebook as usual. Guess what? She had a “magnificent time” with her “sweetie” (coming from a girl who wanted to take it slow, what the hell can this mean except she wanted more time to play the field) last night with the movie-and-a-dinner. Man, words sure get to me.

She could be being totally honest, could’ve gone to a movie up in ABQ early and ate dinner back down here late. She could really have plans for tonight and tomorrow.
Her actions, though, just don’t line up. I’m done with her. Goodbye, good riddance, and I hope you get what you want, flame in the wind.

My car died recently. I almost broke into tears, and should have when I realized the price for parts to fix the damn thing.

Here’s my facebook post from June 18th

Last night, I gave myself the goal of getting my car leak-free and ready to really drive. I wanted to hang out with my dad for his birthday today and show him my accomplishments in the car. I finished working on it around 3am on the 18th and passed out. Drove the car to work all pumped as hell, and was working only half-heartedly since there was only one thing on my mind (guess what).

I drop back home for lunch and about 3/4 of the way there I hear a

VROOOOOOOOOOO-BAMtaptaptaptaptaptaptaptap

I think, “Oh hell, the timing belt” and drop the thing into Neutral to ease the engine’s passing. I ended up pushing the car about 1/2 mile (mostly downhill, thank God) and my other DSM bud down here (the dude with bmharris’ old car) zapped by to help me get it on my curb. I almost cried.

SOOOOOOO….time to do one of two things:

*look for places in ABQ who have experience rebuilding DSM heads,

*get-er-done myself, or

*find an online merchant who will do one of those quick head swap deals (one out, mine in) a la Slowboy.

Right now, I’m leaning toward the third option, as I’d like to have something to drive to the meet in July and not have to jack with my own handiwork.

It’s been up and down for me lately, as I struggle to buy parts and convince myself to save cash for school as well (gotta pay the whole thing myself this semester, since I wanted no help from the parents this time around)! I’ve invested around $800 in the engine since the day it died in the form of better-quality replacement parts and things I shoulda bought in the first place (Kevlar timing belt, new oil pan, new gaskets and seals, some rings that don’t fit [fixing that issue soon though], and a million other bolts and small things that have added up to tons of cash…all of it unnecessary if I would’ve only bought a new timing belt). Such is the price of experience. This endeavor has taught me something important, though: Not only is hindsight important, but advice from those who have experience is extremely valuable (Kristen and others told me NOT to get that used timing belt from that guy and buy new instead…and what did I do?) This is not in any way showing me that DSMs are junk cars, not by a long shot; they need to be cared for just like any other vehicle, with more care going to something you build yourself.

Yep, she’s without a heart now, but when I’m done with surgery, the engine on the stand will jump back in the fray twice as strong and even more ornery than before. That’s a fact, and I’m sticking to it.

 

Items left to purchase:

  • A working head
  • MLS headgasket
  • New pistons and rings in 0.040 size; failing that, total seal rings in 0.040 over size
  • A full set of new bearings

After these arrive, she will run again.

Any ideas what else I should do to the car while the engine’s out and in my kitchen? Leave me a comment and I’ll get you back.

 

_Nick C

Yep, up late again. This gut of mine is like a small child, temperamental and prone to misbehaving. At least it doesn’t act retarded in the supermarket and knock shelves full of food over in a demented glee, right?

I’m sitting here at El Camino, contemplating the latest in life’s mysteries: the rare gem and the treasure in my life. The gem is a friend that I wish to get to know better, and the treasure is my family.

A Diamond in the Rough

I wrote in a previous blog that I have three women in my life that just keep poppin up. I tried to further stuff with one of them so far (Ashley), with mixed results. We ended up slippin some tongue at the beginning of May, and I—in my usual naïve and innocent way—assumed she wanted something more. I mean, when it came to her, I sure as hell did. On the other hand, she seems more of a tease. I called her up a few times afterward to see if she was interested in hanging out sometime, and she was like, “I’m working/chilling/etc.” I went to see her at work and she was sorta happy to see me. Gave me a “good-friend” side hug and proceeded to tell me about work. Meh…but better than nothing, right? A few blablablas later, I asked her when she was free…Mondays and Tuesdays worked for her. So a week or so passes, and I get the nerve up to text her and see if she wants to do anything on a Monday…she’s up in ABQ doing God knows what/chillin. Her texts are short and choppy…if I care about someone, I make sure to put some time into even a simple text message. Just me? Possibly.

Enough about her; onto someone who I care about who reciprocates.

The Rare Gem

Ginese is one of the most awesome people in my life right now. I really think we have something between us that can actually go somewhere. I’ve felt this for a while, but recent events have really started to push me in this direction.

I bought her a card for her birthday last week, and gave it to her as she worked the evening shift at Springs. It was one of those cheesed-out singing cards that plays some sound clip when opened. The one I got for her played “Bad To The Bone” by George Thorogood. She responded in kind by getting me a card for my birthday Saturday with a pin on it that said “Cool Kid”. I wore that pin all night and was the total cool kid when my parents showed up for the honorary birthday dinner. I introduced her to my parents and K who drove up when she was getting ready to leave. They (with the exception of my mom) really seemed to like her, and that made me feel all the better on my birthday.

I really wanna move forward with a real relationship with Ginese. We can talk about anything and everything. It pisses me off that my mom is still all “Where is she going to school?” like anyone who hasn’t gone to college isn’t worth a damn. I REALLY LIKE THIS GIRL and I can’t see what time in college would do to enhance the woman I adore, as I like her as she is.

A Treasure

Regardless of what they think about people who I like, I will always love my family. I love my brother with his rebellious/outspoken self, my sister who fights through the toughest battles and emerges bloodied but victorious, my mom who quietly singes her inner pain with the love she holds for us, her children, and my dad, who has worked so hard to regain our trust in him and who continues to try and improve himself as a man and as my mom’s husband to get back in her good graces. These people are in my heart, my every breath. I pray for them every morning and night and ask God to take care of them in tough times. I don’t know what I’d do without them.

One hour of bedtime starts now….

_Nick C

Last night was supposed to be a night of chillin and relaxing—a night that was meant to celebrate the fact that I finished writing my thesis. It ended up being much more than that! This one gets a 10 out of 10 on the “Good Lawd”-o-Meter…read on, my friends!

To celebrate, I went to the bar, where my favorite band was playing. The James Douglas Show was scheduled to rock out, so I got there at 9 and chilled with Guilhem for a bit while the guys in the band set up. I had seen my new friend Amy at the gas station earlier that day, and had told her about the concert so she’d come and bring her ridiculously hot friend Ashley B (ohhhh shawty) to chill out and have a few drinks on me.

The band and I talked for a bit about random stuff while I waited for Amy and Ashley to show—when’s the new album coming out, how’s the biz, etc. I love those guys. They’re honest peeps and amazing musicians, and I envy their lifestyle SO much. I think, though, that I’m more of a homebody in that when I’m away from home for a while, I get homesick (for Socorro/NM, seriously) and become a general creep to others 🙂 Hey, just self-observations here.

Amy and Ashley (!) showed up around 10:30, totally making one half of my night with their presence. Amy had that “tux” shirt and some emo pants on, and was generally looking cute (too bad she bats for the other team….) Ashley…damn, she blew my world apart with her ensemble. (I’m listening to slow jazz at the moment—specifically Kurt Elling’s “Lil’ Darling”—and it has such a perfect feel for describing what she was wearing.) She had some brown/yellow sandals on that accented her ivory feet and ruby nails. A set of the shortest yellow shorts I have ever seen on a woman were wrapped like cellophane around her, and I had to blink to make sure they weren’t painted on. She wore a beautiful mid-cut shirt that reminded me of those shirts that certain French women wear, except without the ruffles at the arms. She topped it all off with a yellow plastic flower in her loose, wavy black hair.

I was minding the pool table when I saw her…my gut clutched and my mind went blank. I swear that a few of the breakers in the back room tripped because of the powerful surge of her electricity.

Something had to be done, so (after sewing my jaw shut) I went up and greeted them with a smile and an offer for drinks that they accepted. I asked my man Bryan for something that was sweet yet strong…he made me this concoction called “Calico Cat” or something else that was equal parts Bacardi 151, coco rum, and pineapple juice. Damn, that was good. Amy, Ashley, and I chilled at the bar and met up with their friends Bobbie and JJ.

After relaxing with their gang for a bit, I went and listened to the band. It was around 11 by now, and the place was finally starting to get packed. Liz and Dawn showed up, and I was happy to see them. A little later on, the Smashley (tall Ashley) arrived with her crew. We jazzed out for a bit and kept listening to the Show.

It was now 11:30, and I was feeling the effects of the eth and whatever evil mix (Three Wise Men) Ashley B had them make for me. I had to pour most of it on the floor, or else I would have been there in its place. I asked Ashley for a dance, and she was good with it.

The Show played a very danceable song, and I tried to help her with her swing. She has potential, but the alcohol didn’t help much with her mad skillz for the night. We ended up holding on to one another and spinning in place (not like I minded in the slightest). It was like this for a while when I noticed she was nosing up at me…I looked down at her and met her eyes with mine in that nearsighted fashion that people do when their faces are close together.

Oh God, please let me get this right.

It’s every guy’s prayer before he moves in for the kill—the last prayer he makes while it’s still a zero-zero game.

Eyes snapped shut, heart slowed, brain quit.

Lips met and opened to expose the flower, pistil and stamens.

Time stopped on a dime.

I was happy, in the sense that you say “soy feliz” (I am happiness embodied) as opposed to “tengo feliz” (I possess happiness). All supernovae exploding, prideful and fearless, strength and softness, angles and curves, was I.

More later, I need shampoo for the fro.

Phone

I went home to see the parents today. Mom lost her phone a few weeks ago, and dad ended up finding it in her purse. BIG LOL! She had already ordered a phone via the insurance, so I got to keep it…yay new phone with a pimp headset that I can use to listen to music from the lappy! DJ DJ here I come! Plus I can put music on a little SD card that fits in the phone and listen to it while I work or run or something. QUITE PIMPIN’, sucka.

Gut

My gut is acting up again. Not a clue why. I’m feeling occasional tiny sharp/dull pains in the lower-right quadrant of the gut. I was checked for appendicitis (no CT scan though…still pissed) and it came back negative. “WTF?” I said. After a week of strong antibiotics that were supposed to get rid of any infection I might have (including the one in my prostate), I still have no clue what the deal is with my lower abdomen. I’m going to clean the house to get rid of that factor that might be adding to the time I stay sick.

Dinner with the parents

It was nice to have a good—albeit awkward—dinner together with my parents. My mom still treats my dad with arms-lengthism, and my dad keeps trying hard to do anything he can to get back in her good graces. It’s so weird to be in the middle of that state of affairs as an outside observer. Yet as linked as we in the fam all are to the still-current situation, I feel every red glance as a lance in my heart, and every effort is placed doubly across my shoulders to win back the priceless prize of a woman’s heart. I look at my dad and feel the burning desire to scream and hurl literal and figurative bricks at him in trade for the pain he caused me on August 23, 2007. Then again, I want my old dad back; the man who would call me and cheer me up with awkward yet cherished conversations, the man who built our house into something we could be proud of, the man who I wanted to be for so long until the day he snapped the branch that led back to dignity, and parasitically leeched onto a never-before-seen vein of black anger and sadness in the earth manifesting as a hateful action toward his loved ones.

I love my dad. I miss my dad. I try to love my dad. I can’t hate him anymore, but might I forgive him now? Still not sure yet.

In other news, I called Estelle later. She had a good day at her track meet in Lubbock…broke the school record in the 100 hurdles with a 16.8, and ran a good time in the 400s with a 69. K’s still recovering from a screwed-ham…I hope he gets better very soon!

The ladies

I love women. I have three in my mind that I wish to get to know well. Names will stay out, but one I’ve known for a while and the other two I’ve met through Rezin (who happens to be out of the slam for now and is on the same two-year probation thing that John John is on for the crap both were involved with).

The one I’ve known the longest makes me smile because she is so silly. She’s such a lovable chum of mine. She likes to swing and salsa with me, and it’s such an ego BOOST when I run and grab her and she drags me to the floor for a few minutes of ridiculous play-dancing! I’m not that good anymore at most salsa, and I’ve never said I was anything at swing, but we really don’t give a shit when we’re out there on the dance floor. As long as we crack a few laughs and step on a few people, that’s what counts. It doesn’t hurt that she’s hot like lava, either. She has curves in all the right places…I can barely control the urge to yowl when she and I hang out. I’ve felt this way for five years and counting, but it has not really manifested into anything useful because of my baby-stepping ways.

Is she into me? No clue.

The woman with the most depth to her I met through Rezin. She knew him since he was a baby, and changed his diapers and such. She is sensible, totally self-reliant, and a great mother to her two girls. There manifests my issue; can I date a woman with children and not keep her kids at arms’ length? I want to get to know everything about her…this includes her kids, but if we end up going out and then we break up, what links will be severed among all three parties? I don’t want to hurt mamma and babies by my dumb actions…and I seriously don’t want to be just another deadbeat guy hitting on her. She is so beautiful in personality, countenance, and spirit that I fell head over heels for her when we met and barely disguised it as mild interest and a nervous tic.

Is she into me? Maybe, but in a careful way. I’d be the same way if I were a single mom and peeps were flauntin funky fresh. ARRRRRR!

The third woman in my eye was introduced to me by Rezin (again). He wanted her something fierce in high school, but never got to get in the door for some reason or other. She is—bar none—the only Socorro girl (in my eyes) who could zap my eyes with her stare while simultaneously singeing my soul with her sexual heat. Jesus, she’s SMOKIN. I think it’s mostly a hedonistic attraction I have to her now, but the experience I had at a party a few weeks ago could change that. She seemed to pull her petals back and show a little soul when we last spoke, and if it’s anything like the smidge I was shown that day, she’s actually deep and cool, like a pond in the summertime. I’m the only guy she’s ever danced with…she said she usually pushes guys to the wayside when they start getting physically close. She and I were dancing at that party and she looked at me soooo deeply, I swear I almost died. Her porcelain-doll smile makes me dizzy.

Is she into me? No clue, ask later.

K, time for bed, kids! I’m going to try and feel better tonight so I can clean the house tomorrow after church! Gotta be a good Catholic now… J

Keep it real.

This is ridiculous. This is horrific.

It is absolutely sickening to realize this happened in NYC in front of the UN Building…or anywhere in the USA. This is something the progenitors of nonviolence—Mohandas Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Jr.—dealt with on a regular basis with the British or the violent whites of their respective eras.

I never thought we finished growing up as a nation, but to see these things unfold through the unblinking eye of a camera is further proof of our immaturity and tenuous-if-wispy ties to the world around us as a nation.

When people are beaten in the streets for protesting the state of things, when men and women fight another country for a reason that is becoming less tangible by the day, when a nation that elects an irresponsible man into the most powerful office in the world turns a blind eye toward the inner happenings of their neighborhoods, you know something’s not right.

How do we fix it?

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So I figured a ton of things out lately. The car wasn’t starting because the CAS was 180 degrees out of phase. I put it right and placed it approximately where it needed to go. Yay, it started! That Optima was just OVERKILL, but now I have a huge chunk of red sex in the engine bay that I can show off to the friends and pundits. 🙂 Snarf.

I bought a new clutch master cyl and put that in…the slave needs a ton more bleeding, but it got the car to ROLL! I drove the thing around today…stalled out quite a few times because of exhaust leaks and megaleaks, but I kept going nonetheless until I could get the damn thing going into 2nd. The power was just waiting to be unleashed.

If I spent 1/4 as much time on my thesis as I do on the car, it would have been done months ago. NOT GOOD.

The car still needs to be timed with the gun I bought the other day. I’ll do that sometime.

Garrick’s two-year anniversary is tomorrow. I’m feeling a little emo just thinking about it, but I know he’s in a better place. I miss him a lot. The car was built in honor of him…I bet he’s up in the sky grinning at how ugly it is. Guess what, f00? It may be ugly, but it runs!

Ok, back to the HW. I’m going to fail my history class if I don’t bang out at least five pages in the next six or so hours. Late.

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