I’m off for a few days without computer and internet. Plan on running around in the shallow shores of Lower-Saxony. They call it Wattenmeer or Watt Laufen.
-tgs-
I’m off for a few days without computer and internet. Plan on running around in the shallow shores of Lower-Saxony. They call it Wattenmeer or Watt Laufen.
-tgs-
This is a conceptual outtake from my new novel LOP; a chapter is available here. In the story the protagonist, during a road trip, continuously encounters a gooey substance on the side of the road that is referred to as lop. This is also the name of a promiscuous woman he encounters and she has only one eye.
The Negature is the newest form of matter. To become man, human consciousness had to go through all the natural phases of matter. Of course, Man hasn’t yet reached the final form but he is on his way. It is part of evolution and, of course, not well researched – since there was only one man with the balls to make any major breakthroughs in this area.
What we know about it today is based on guesstimating and belief, although I know that most mid-westerners don’t want to hear that because there is absolutely no mysticism involved. Disregarding its position currently, The Negature has become so common-place that we (humans) have been unable to recognize it.
Consider that if you swim long enough in shit you’ll get used to it and not recognize it for what it really is.
There are five known phases of matter?
-solids
-liquids
-gases
-plasma
-Negature
Some are speculating that there is a sixth… (but that’s for another post).
The Negature is really cool. It is a fusing of matter and consciousness. It’s almost as though knowledge has taken on the form of LOP (also glop, gue, mucus-like material) with polarizing opposites. Both poles, though, are made of the same element. The element is in the form of failure, which is also part of the molecular building block, also synonymous with rejection, which is viewable today in all the wonders of human achievement, easily seen in human politics & governing, (the lack of) culture and the redefining of language for the sole purpose of self-indulgence.
According to Nietzsche, man killed God. This was a natural process in the intellect(ual) development of man and many believe part of the spark that initialized all of everything that we know today. But the spark mixed too early with intellect(ual) and caused a bit of a ruckus.
Just as nature added phases to matter – which lead to an abundance of chaotic life on earth – the intellect(ual) addition made to Man has also had side-effects. For example, the death of the feminine. This was the turning point in the eventual course that would lead to The Negature lining up behind plasma.
Although I don’t want to get into here, perhaps another post, Man didn’t kill A L L the feminine, hence the troublesome concept of being a man and getting your shirt ironed. But in killing some (or most) of it he passed on some serious flows in all his subsequent incarnations.
Therefore the wondrous feminine is being reborn to Man’s world in the form of The Negature which will ultimately wipe out everything in the world of consciousness.
Why? Because She can.
Some believe that in the very near future we must finally face The Singularity. This happening is equal to the arrival, at least the conscious arrival, of The Negature. But, I also believe, because of The Negature, that The Singularity will not occur as most think it will. Instead we humans will ultimately face The Accidental Removal of the Water Plug from the bathtub while trying to get the (wo)man’s toe out of the spigot.
-tgs-
The elements of time interfering with Brain’s every wish.
Surreal.
Real.
But I am real. I think. Like you are real…
The call of NO and the will of Love. What’s the relation? A combination that neither of us can really fathom and yet it drives one to be (what he be). You you. Me me. Can you see the leaves outside? They are just like us. Turning every year. Going away or dying. And when it rains and they glisten they remind me of the times when you begged that I go down. You said it was only south but I had no interest in direction. Lick you clean and prepare the pathway that leads to my satisfaction (your mind). Oh my, I can hear two cats (or is it three?) fighting along the road. They must be near the tree because its leaves start to fall wildly. I even have to close the window of my car as the wind carries so many of them to me. Why does that happen? Who makes it happen?
If only I lived in a country with weather instead of only two seasons.
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Almost a poem by
-tgs-
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It took only one “how-to” book about writing to turn me off. This must be part of my desire to run from convention. I have to admit, although I’ve since thrown the book away, there was one part of it that has stayed with me. Which probably means I shouldn’t be so hard on these books, although it seems that (generalisation) all how-to books are really nothing but cruel ironic jokes – which people seem to like because of their cute effect, I guess. All hail the “blah-blah for Dummies” series.
Back from tangent.
I’ve spent a lot of time, perhaps wasted a lot of time, trying to figure out why I can’t get published. I’ve actually gone as far as trying (and failing) to change my writing style so that a publisher or lit agent would read me. That didn’t work. Then I started to rationalize.
-It must be because I’m not educated. But then again I think that for everything, even cooking curry.
-It must be because I’m unable to produce something that is cohesive, and, although complex in plot and characters, made to fit into a third-grade aptitude.
-It must be because I mistakenly moved to a country, here and here, that has disastrously institutionalized culture and art and hence can longer create it.
-It must be because I’m not born in a world of the few where I would have a chance in my mediocrity.
Yeah, I like that last rationalized thought. Kind of like, wrong place and wrong time. Then came the most recent thought:
-It must be because I just plain suck.
As the calm sets in from the tantrum of frustration caused by being rejected as a writer I seep into my inner cocoon and fondle the larvae that is my written-libido until the desire to continue is omnipresent. Rational thought becomes the jet blasted paint thrown by Jackson Pollack onto a canvas made of titanium. The small corners of my brain that still function say, NO, that can’t be it, the jet blast is too much, you are not just a bad writer, you are an unknown writer. And then the fingers in my brain point to the bookshelves in my work room to the section that houses entertainment novels where I find solace and hope and motivation, usually – because there are so few of them.
Just read something by Dan Brown.
After the first few pages of reading I go to my high-rise apartment window and spew breakfast to the ground below followed by a most sincere apology.
No. The problem for writers out there who have potential but can’t break through the gauntlet is the publishing industry. It is the publishing industry that produced Dan Brown. Which is ok, I actually like him, especially his money. Talk about being in the write place at the write time. The industry went to him and said, hey, write this. Or they said, after reading his wife’s synopsis, ok, get me a manuscript and include, oh, I don’t know, a detective-like professor, a car chase and lots of innuendo of Mary M. gettin’ boinked and we’ll get back to you. The book never had a chance of being the product of a writer’s mind – unless you consider the various plagiarism cases.
So… it is a sad mystery, not unlike the virgin birth, as to why I cannot get publishers to read my work. For years, for me, it’s not even about getting published anymore. It’s really only about being rejected.
Here’s a list of problems I think have prohibited me from getting read…
-grammar
-story
-writing
-publishing industry
I spoke with the industry once and was amazed at their response to my question about how to get published. Of four or so lit agents, they all began by telling me, if you write…
-Write the idea first and then send that in.
-Do not write the novel or manuscript. No one will read it because compulsive laborers are not paid to think.
-Examples of how you write will follow if you can sell the idea first.
-The publishing industry is the first industry to face globalisation so there are really no workers left to handle business development so you have to somehow do it all on your own.
Note: I threw that last one in there for Internet posterity’s sake.
I wonder is mediocrity so bad?
Back to the how-to thing.
Here, for what-ever reason, is what is embedded in my mind from the how-to book that I read years ago but subsequently discarded. It begins with saying something along the lines of “if you want to be a writer you should write.” It continues by explaining a perfect world scenario where if everyone wrote books and read each others books then the world would be (even more) perfect. This, of course, the presupposition that re-circulating books and the money to buy them is enough to sustain the publishing industry.
So let’s trek on wannabe writers. Not to unite but to continue the fight. Why? Because, being unemployed and without money but able to write a story, a play or a novel on a whim is really kinda neat-o-torpedo.
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There Are No Corners in Space
Comprehension has always been my predicament. In a world where everything is delivered to the mind without effort it’s a wonder that human beings haven’t evolved into bio-electric globs of suitable jelly that are able to spew out perfect computer code. I have always suspected that comprehension is a way for society to control itself. The idea is that unless motivated using comprehension humans beings will end up lying all over the streets, or in front of TVs, PCs or fast-food counters mutating into something socially unacceptable and costing brain-dead workers with careers – those who are able to cope – all their perks and peeves.
-We have to put a stop to that, one human says.
-Let’s invent something then, another human says.
-What?
-Corners, they both say together.
-And let’s use it to control things, one says.
-The inside or the outside of the corners, one human asks.
For me, the idea of comprehension was never about schooling, learning or acclimation but instead space, time and material. At certain moments it would be synonymous with imagination – which was the alternative to space, time and material. Of course this had an effect on my ability to be part of what society prepares one for but on the other hand it also enabled a mindset that would help me survive – a step down from the above mentioned “cope” – and not turn into jelly.
Quite the contradiction. And not very profitable. Hence I have no job, no career, and no friends. Boo-whoo.
Getting through the rigmarole of everyday life – as of two-thousand-six – should be a joke. Why most people in the West don’t rebel against this system – or at the least ask why it has become so stagnant and self-serving – is beyond me. I cannot comprehend it. Obviously. The only thing I can come up with is that there are too many people out there who comprehend everything but imagine nothing.
There is an alternative.
Comprehensive imagination.
Here’s an example:
The universe does not know what a corner is. Let me repeat. There is no such thing in the entire universe as a “corner”. At the most there is only a right-angle in the universe but this is used only to designate cognitive deviations from acceptable behaviour.
I mean, didn’t Einstein have to re-invent geometry to get to his theory of general relativity? You know, the bending of space…
Just the other day I was starring at the high ceiling of the apartment I live in – it was built around eighteen-ninety, the ceiling is thirteen feet high – and became utterly focused on the corner where two walls meet with the ceiling. I got to thinking: if aliens came to earth one of the first things they would notice in everything we (humans) have built are the corners. They would think:
What dead-ends.
Naturally, their space ships will be round, they know nothing about ballistics, hence they have no rockets and when they inquire about what we’ve done and then humans try to sweet-talk them about things like the amazing pyramids, they will just laugh their alien laugh and the stage will be set for War of the Worlds.
Human beings function so counter to the ways of the universe that it will be no surprise that aliens would never even bother to set foot down here. They are obviously waiting for the right moment when we can cross-over to great minds.
Either that or:
The reality is there are no aliens because they are stuck in the corners we’ve made with our minds.
Technorati Tags: comprehend, space, writer, playwright
Short-list of criteria for failing:
-always having jobs you hate,
-unemployment,
-job-jumping,
-giving up on college because you can’t pay for it anymore,
-rebelling against everything that is status-quo,
-anti-authority,
-anti-conventionalism,
-etc., etc.
Some have told me that since I worked for companies like McKinsey, Philips Electronics and the Swedish Lottery Board I couldn’t have been a failure, not to mention worstwriter. But I say humbug. I learned one important thing working for these companies which I never would have learned being a motorcycle mechanic or a truck driver – both were recommended to me by counselors in high-school.
I learned: to observe.
Some observations include: human beings are fools; our predatory capitalist system feeds on fools, the un-ending desire to consume has become the new golden calf…
And that’s fine. That’s what makes our system fun. But observing isn’t enough.
The problem is, observing people for a long time enables the assumption you have seen it all. Which leaves lots of room for, what then? My ‘what then’ was to read. I think if anyone actually reads some of my work here you’ll notice one thing: since I can’t get published – at least not through traditional channels – I must not be a very good writer. I attribute this to having started reading very late – also in there somewhere is the fact I don’t give a shit about the conventional.
For example, I read my first novel when I was twenty-four. When I was twenty-five I read my first play. Reading finally put some variety into the boredom of observing the same things over and over again. Reading made everything that was dreary funny. One of the early plays I read was Waiting for Godot by Sam Beckett. Talk about putting life into perspective.
As usual, I’m probably way off topic.
Below is an example of what would accompany my learning. When I got the idea to actually try and put my plays out there for production – which I would ultimately fail at – I thought it best to understand theatre, how it worked, why and with what means. I put this together in my late twenties. Like everything else here it’s not very sophisticated but what the hell…
Note: the following two charts are based on my first experience producing theatre. The numbers will vary depending on the type of theatre that is performed, e.g. musical, drama, experimental, big-name author, etc. What is clear is that there is little possibility of counting beans with theatre as is the case with making cars or vacuum cleaners. Main cost factor is artist/cast. Admin, finance, rights, etc., can be assumed as standard cost factor with little variation.
-tgs-
David Mamet is a great writer. If I was asked to make a list of screenwriters he would be my first choice. Glenngarry Glen Ross is one of the best plays American theatre has to offer, not to mention the very simple, minimalistic and highly charged Oleanna. But what puts all that in perspective, at least for me, is that Mamet is an outspoken opponent of “the method”. I have always disliked method acting, not because of what it does for actors – which is a good thing – but because of what it does not do for theatre. Of course Lee Strasberg, Stanislavski, others, have made their mark and contribution to theatre which I will not downplay here. But there is nothing worse then rehearsing a play and for an actor to suddenly say…
What am I feeling here?
My answer has always been…
Go find your friggin feeling, method, Stella Adler on your own time. Now act like a lamp-shade.
When on a tight budget and you have only three hours in rehearsal space and an actor starts asking existential questions about “to be or not to be” the only thing that comes to (my) mind is…
You’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me!
I’m not saying that Method is inherently bad. If that’s what makes an actor/actress’s boat float then so be it. Just do it while learning your craft, while training, but not while working.
Now that I’ve idealized Mamet and joined him in criticizing Method I must also admit the man doesn’t shit roses. Recently he published an article that got under my gander. It was brought to my attention by one of the blogs that I follow – onegoodmove. Click here to read the Mamet article. Or go here to read my criticism of that article.
Here is part I.
What can one say about a man who writes screenplays for movies like…
The Post Man Always Rings Twice
Is wow appropriate? Or how about the movie…
House of Cards
To this day when I’m in a conflict with a woman I always quote that movie and say,
“Thank you mother may I have another.”
So I like David Mamet – as a writer. I’m not a hundred percent sure but I think we’d see eye-to-eye on other issues, too. But then again, maybe not.
I got a little hot while reading this article. I’ll begin with this quote from his article:
“The force which kept it (US corporate management) honest was the American labour movement.”
I apologize if I’m getting a bit out of context here but Mamet writes with too much fervour regarding politics, corporatism and labour. Of course corporations are behind so much ill fated lobbying and social chaos in America but that is not a predetermined by-product of our system. Then he writes that corporations and the Bush admin are out of control. But a system was put in place to keep it all in check and that system did not break down. What is Mamet’s point with this article? Everything is bad, join a union or organize, it’s Bush’s fault, vote Democrat?
Ok…
Mamet’s tone is too cold war for me. He forgets one very important aspect of today’s America. This aspect I believe is that ignorance and a lack in consciousness is the American problem. It is not nineteen century ideals or political dogma. America has become a people that would rather be entertained by WWF and sold miracle hair tonic that does everything from fix your house to reduce your taxes. The seller of the tonic, btw, is PT Barnum.
The system of checks and balances that was created by our forefathers that would help us keep it all together did NOT break down! The system was meant to give individuals not just the right but the capability to choose – individually. Election stolen here or there, the situation America is in now was inevitable. As an American the only thing I learned growing up were selfishness and greed – from grade school all the way through college. Giving in America – and I dare anyone to challenge this – only happens if taking comes first. In order to be a decent American one has to manage all the negatives. What kind of life is that?
No, I disagree with Mamet because nothing organized can be good. History has shown this. America, from its inception, was about chaos, greed but most importantly, individuality – everything and all else would be controlled by checks and balances. We are no longer a land of individuals. We didn’t forget who we are but instead gave up a long time ago on who we could be. The system proved that it works and that the people do not.
Btw, the PT Barnum hair tonic tastes good, too.
–tgs-
Should have included these scans in the illicit Frankfurt book fair post. But then again I’ve got a bunch of rejection posts to continue the chronology. Isn’t chronology great?
These scans are cool because they are basically the same rejection letter, certainly they are from the same publishers (verlag) – with eight years between them. One is from 1994 and rejects my novel Chad. The other is 2002 and rejects my novel Engagement. Isn’t that neat-o?
-tgs-
I remember being twenty-five and talking with a settled man of fifty. His idea of “get with the program” lured its way into our conversation. I was then, as I still am today, in a perpetual state of soul searching. I know now, of course, that it was a bit late but at least, in hindsight, there is the consolation that I wasn’t alone – and I am sure, even today, I’m still not alone. When this man asked me what I wanted to do with my life I told him that I wasn’t sure but I enjoyed writing.
-Writing what, he asked.
-I’m not sure, I said.
Then he told me that since I didn’t join the military, like his son and other young men from the neighbourhood, I should at least take it upon myself to go out there and pay some American dues. He then proceeded to tell me that the whole private sector exploits young men and if I wanted a tip he had one.
-Sure, I said.
-Saudi Arabia.
-Come again?
-Saudi Arabia. You’ll get work, earn money and pay your dues.
I thought he was going to tell me to join the Peace Corps or something. Instead he told me that he could get me a job with a government contractor in Saudi Arabia. Why Saudi Arabia? Because, he said, that’s where the oil is and you can start there for probably eighteen dollars an hour. Stay for a while, do your work, they will love you. You’ll be making twenty-five an hour by the end of your first year. Before you know it you’ve got a career.
Looking back it’s obvious that I made many mistakes. Not taking that mans advice wasn’t one of them. I often think, for the heck-of-it, what if I did go to Saudi Arabia? It is true that people work there for a few years and then move on to better things. Not sure about the “dues” thing, though. I thought if I’m gonna be a writer I have to be somewhere where there are writers. Besides, writers don’t pay dues. That’s working class stuff. Right? (Nothing against the working class!) Are there writers in Saudi Arabia? Do they even have playwrights? (I know, stupid American question.)
As I write this twenty years later I still haven’t figured life out. On the other hand, after twenty years of zero expectations you’d think that life would be ok. Ironically, all I’ve achieved is moving to another country where there are too many writers – but that’s another post (stop laughing).
Looking back is hard because you’re able to conclude things, you’re able to see the results of your actions, the mirror is very clear.
The only real regret I have now is that I didn’t, like everyone else, cheat and steal more. I guess, the reason I didn’t do that was because until most recently I was a humanist.
But there was this one time…
In 2002 I decided to cheat. How? I bribed my way into one of the VIP days at the Frankfurt Book Fair. You can read about the book fair here. For anyone writing, reading or just plane interested in books and how they get from imagination to paper, this is the place. Just believe me when I say it’s big. What America does with steaks and cars and the newly invented govt. spending machine “homeland security”, Germany does with trade-fairs. The Frankfurt Book Fair is a dozy, albeit with a bit less Sturm & Drang that it once might have had.
It was 2002. I was unemployed (still am, btw) and the future was looking pretty dim for me in Germany so I thought that I would try one last offensive to get published. I just finished the second manuscript rewrite of my third novel. I had researched who/what would be where at the fair, picked a day, took a train and the next thing I know I’m paying one-hundred-forty Euros to one of those door people who checks tickets. You see, as a private person you can’t buy tickets for VIP days. Tickets are only for industry personnel. Drop the Euros in the right place, though, and… I was in like Flynn. My goal was to hang out with the publishers and lit agents. They occupied an entire floor of one of the buildings. (Did I mention how big the Frankfurt Trade Fair is? Think: UCLA campus.)
After I got through the main gate it was important that I get an ID so that no one would bother me about being where I was. I scouted around and found a woman with an ID tag on her purse. It was supposed to be around her neck. You see, there are moments when fashion (or being fashionable) is good. I discretely followed her to a coffee stand, bumped her from behind, swiped the ID and apologized for bumping her. It didn’t matter that she was a curly blond and I a balding brunette. I never had to show the ID to a human, just the machines.
Now I was in like Flynn in the publishers section. My ammunition was copies of my bio, writing examples, Hollywood blurbs and publicity from my play productions. Publishers and lit-agents were everywhere. They all sat at tables and were interviewing each other about book deals, translations, distribution – very tasty cookies, too. I heard someone say that Salmon Rushdie was in one of the private areas and that Stephen King was due any minute. Wow, I thought. This is gonna be my lucky day. I began by finding agents who were alone. I walked up and introduced myself and asked if they’re interested in a new book. I explained who I am and what I write and gave them the blurb and…
Funny how fast a fire can extinguish.
I spent the whole afternoon hitting up agents. I spent a hundred Euros on copy services alone. Yet there wasn’t one nibble. I began stuffing my info into their mail boxes and by the time the day was over I watched just as many VIP agents and VIP publishers throw my stuff in the bin. I was so busy and hungry I didn’t even get to see Rushdie. Was surprised how short Stephan King is.
So much for cheating…
-tgs-
Personality is a liability. Character a burden.
The majority of success in the corporate world, the world that so many people aspire to be part of, is based not on merit, dedication or hard work…
Three things learned that determine character and personality.
…but instead on behaviourism and compulsion. That is not to say that people do not “hard-work” or that there is no merit – certainly all these people are dedicated, even if it is only to the consuming part of the corporate world. It seems to me that by definition, merit and hard-work result in something, which should be the by-product of human character.
If one looks at the result(s) of human character…
If there is any truth to this thought and you then look at the world today what can one say about character and personality?
-tgs-
This site (or (I hate this word) blog) is about sharing the work of a failed writer. Think of it as my contribution or an example of how not to write. With that in mind, no need to degrade others to such a realm, hence, all the content here is my own. But there are some lines, words, thoughts from others that I cannot help but promote. The tag line under the title of this site, for example. And this poem (not mine) which I’ve stashed away for more than twenty years.
Lucifer’s Advice to Man
From the heavens came a cry,
Look at the sky, look at the sky.
A space ship as bright as a star,
From the planet earth has come so far,
Travelling faster than light,
Man is trying to retrace his primeval flight.
He has come to search for his original land!
Lucifer, be careful where you stand,
Man is now claiming to have the power of God,
He thinks, of solar system he is the lord.
On hearing the cry, Lucifer laughed and heavens shook with his laughter,
Said he, “doesn’t man know that animals came first and he only after”
Yes, man is so proud,
He is vulgar and is so loud,
Look at his face!
Of angelic beauty he has no trace,
Look at his ackward* shape!
He looks to me more like an ape,
Look his peculiar gait!
And yet he claims our lineage.
“Man,” said Lucifer, “go back to earth
And there for your origin you search.”
-V. Zaman**
* I’m not sure about the word “ackward”. This is not a typo on my part. See scan below. I copied this poem while in a public library about twenty or so years ago. I found it in the book “New Man of Medicine” by James Hill, which I’ve given-up trying to find via google and other Internet resources. I’m not sure what the origin of the word is but I believe it refers to awkward and backward. Or is it a print error?
** Anyone know “V. Zaman”? It seems, as of this post, not even Google knows.
It’s nice to look through old notes and find this stuff. The paper it’s on is yellowing and the edges are starting to look burnt. And you can almost smell the old Xerox machine that copied it… Oh, the origin of technology.
Talent is a big deal with writing. You have either a talent with words, ideas or, like Dan Brown, putting a puzzle together. When you realize you have no talent – especially after you’ve written so many words – it’s a hard and heavy pill to swallow. All the words, the chaos of the words. When I first started writing the chaos was my source of energy and will. But as I grew, learned more about the craft, facing reality is like having to decide which cable to cut in order to diffuse the really big bomb. The brown one or the green one. The blue or the red. Cut the wrong one and… kaboom! The most basic thrill Hollywood can produce is my rapture, my solace, it is, in reality, a projection on a screen and not really involving my physical person, so just enjoy that fact, that fact of un-reality, let the actors in your mind play it out, that you’re a bad writer is better to find out this way then have someone of real genius tell you the truth. I can’t imagine what that would do to a person like me. Besides, if I die cutting the wrong cable. It’s perfectly ok. I can leave the theatre and walk home and have a chili-dog or two. Leave hope and want of talent on that cinematic screen at the back of your head. It’s better there. Just write the words so that you can enjoy throwing them in a lake.
-tgs-
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Well, my post that some German newspaper intellectuals were questioning whether the world could/would have new plays (or whether German language theatres would have new playwrights) was a bit late. I should have posted it about seven years ago or posted it here by back-dating. So much for trying to acquire attention (hits).
There are in fact some new playwrights out there. I guess. I’ll be spending the next period of life trying to find them. I did get lucky last year though and went to see a play by Christina Kettering. She wrote the play “Der Gast” – The Guest. It premiered in 05 at the Wiesbaden Staatstheater – in the little basement theatre. This play floored me. It was good. And it was new. It was original and obviously came from the confines of someones imagination. Characters were very cool and there was continuity in story, stage and overall production. But… Christina is 25 years old!
After that play I went out and had a lot of beer. I thought: if a “playwright” can get that kind of a start at 25 what the hell is one supposed to do at 43 who can’t even get people to read his work?
Start a blog, I guess.
My hat is off to Ms. Kettering.
-tgs-
Ok. Too much. Stop bitchin. Who wants to read about a failure all the time?
Check out this guy. He’s written some really cool stuff.
-tgs-
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