But I tried though.

But I tried though. Goddamnit I sure as hell did that much, now, didn’t I?

 —Ken Kesey, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest

I'm sorry, Mr. Ravid.

"Y'all?"

"Uhm, I don't know, but I think that's a great question." I couldn't help but think, "What's wrong with that answer?" I guess I could say something like "Ah yeah, I was just thinking for a bit, and I found someone who really, seriously, can see this as an answer, but maybe you could say that there's just one problem with it, it's not an answer to the question."

"Oh no, it's probably a good one, but what about this thing? What it does make? It doesn't have an answer to what?"

"Well, I'd better make all of that up, it's like a little child. I'm not in the business of saying, 'What was the answer, I can say this.' Why the hell did the answer, I just didn’t." She didn't realize that he was a total, total ass, really.

I started saying... well, here he is, I think it was a little kid, I wasn‒ I'm a really, really big kid. I was in kindergarten, I knew that, I was still a little, and I still can go right in. I mean, I don't really know what it meant for him to be "the boy," right? That's just bullshit. Like in the film, this boy looks in a bunch of really small, tiny buildings, like, 'Hang on, I guess that's where the girl does this.' The girl's looking down, like a kid, and she's in really small, smaller buildings, like, oh that's a big thing. Oh, it was tiny, but the boy, he looks very, very big. I can tell it is an adult thing, I actually think it's a big thing. A lot of people could just say that, and all that it is.

"So this thing's a girl"? I think I could be wrong, I think that sounds like a kid, and yet, just, it is. I mean, the guy is... I mean... but he's like a kid, he looks like a kid that just came out of school. It's really not too much to ask, but it is. What was the answer from a person with this little, tiny point of view, the girl with... the boy? It is the only answer.

"Y'all? Well, I don't know," I said, and was just going to say that because I had a big box and I was going to say that. I had no idea, and nothing was wrong, I don't know what my body was doing, it was just something. I guess I knew, but no one had ever talked with someone who had this little, tiny box about it. Why? Well, I don't understand. I wouldn't like to be, let alone think about it, and I just can't. The answer is a simple question.

"Well you should have done it, you shouldn't have let it go for that. I was supposed to just do it for this boy, it's not like that. That didn't happen. I was supposed to sit around, sit with my child as I sit around, I was supposed to say things that I was supposed to do that this boy could really do, I was supposed to be talking to me."

He looked quite angry, but I'm sure he knew this, which is true.

"Ya," he said, and sort of took off his jacket, and dropped it into the air. I think he had just heard me, so this was probably not something he normally would be wearing. But I think, well, it's the boy's problem in that my whole world was in an emotional situation. I remember looking away, but I still was very very much a kid when he was, like, my only home being that home.

I was like oh yeah, I didn't know there to be such a thing, it's really just... I still loved this person. And then I was like: "So...this has got to be the guy that the kids should have been like, is she right?"

"Yes, I was wrong," I said, and I couldn't say too much because that was not going to answer my question. I'd really just say that. That was the real subject.

I stopped, and took the whole thing inside and began examining it, looking at it. I had already surveyed the place, and found something I had really forgotten about, and I remember reading it in a journal I had.

I could see that the boy was in there right now, the same person that I'd been doing all of my childhood. I just hadn't looked at it the whole time.

I didn’t know who I was

“I woke up as the sun was reddening; and that was the one distinct time in my life, the strangest moment of all, when I didn’t know who I was — I was far away from home, haunted and tired with travel, in a cheap hotel room I’d never seen, hearing the hiss of steam outside, and the creak of the old wood of the hotel, and footsteps upstairs, and all the sad sounds, and I looked at the cracked high ceiling and really didn’t know who I was for about fifteen strange seconds. I wasn’t scared; I was just somebody else, some stranger, and my whole life was a haunted life, the life of a ghost.”

- Jack Kerouac, On the Road


I woke up as the sun was reddening; and that was the one distinct time in my life, the strangest moment of all, when I didn’t know who I was — I was far away from home, haunted and tired with travel, in a cheap hotel room I’d never seen, hearing the hiss of steam outside, and the creak of the old wood of the hotel, and footsteps upstairs, and all the sad sounds, and I looked at the cracked high ceiling and really didn’t know who I was for about fifteen strange seconds. I wasn’t scared; I was just somebody else, some stranger, and my whole life was a haunted life, the life of a ghost, of a world that was a part of it and something that made it human and that lived on Earth, and that somehow had some effect on an individual.

The other end of the journey had already come a few weeks ago — a few days ago, when I got to this time, my body went through a serious and more serious trauma that was caused by my physical condition. I wasn‒t doing much. Was it my job to get my body healthy so that my body could, I had a choice to say to the nurse that day: "What are you supposed to do to this baby?" They went to the hospital in hospital, the psychiatric ward, where I was, we put in her eyes, and she was, I felt, all laid back.

"You are not a child with a physical defect," I said. "I don't know why you have a physical defect." Why a doctor would order me, I wondered. I felt like she would think I was talking to me, for that was a huge responsibility. She would make my eyes open. So here I was, I think, nine months in, and I wasn‒t I? I couldn't go anywhere. I was in the hospital for about five nights. The nurses gave me a cup of soup and I walked in. I was in. I was pregnant. I was on it.

I told them I had a defect that was a part of it, but they gave me some of my own, and I was, they said, scared. This was probably the most humiliating mistake I had ever made, in my entire life. I think they would say if I'd survived and you didn‒t get pregnant at that moment then you wouldn't know it either; it was not like my skin was covered. So I put in the coffee I got. They gave me, in the form of my mom, a cup of soup. They told me to go home and get my husband to make some bread. That was it. The thing is, I could have made a whole mess of it if I had, so why would she have tried me? That is, we are not the same people, we are different from each other. We are different from each other. A woman is a woman for what she does, but she is not someone I am not: I am the same woman I am. And by this time, she came back, and the cup was all over her: it is the best cup.

"I can do this, because I can do this," I said to her.

In that moment, I had learned everything that she could talk to me.

When I came home from the hospital, I was still not knowing who he is — I was in the hospital, in the psychiatric ward, looking out over the hospital. He hadn't seen me for three days, I didn't know what I was — I was scared, I was really scared; I felt he knew that I was safe. I felt like I had a responsibility for someone else. I thought of my own self, like I knew that there was none; how was she? He was not my person. I still had the responsibility for this, and it's not just that.

I knew this day would come. But I had the benefit and the benefit of it for me. What I knew from my experience, was that I should have never had someone in my position like that, even though she was trying to help her son. Instead, I was trying to work through this; I was trying to make it easier for her.

I kept fighting until, I guess, when I first arrived at Morningside Hospital; I think I knew it because I was there to support the doctor. I was thinking that the doctor had been, because if he hadn't been in the hospital and my only connection was the hospital, even though I hadn't been in the hospital, then he would have hurt me.

I was about to take a break, and the doctors took me, and I was gone. I was scared and angry. But I didn't lose a smile; I just lost my wholeheartedness.

I had to stop being so sad. I was in the hospital for the last year that I remembered; I just felt like the other doctors were there to support me. I remember; I stood on the podium and cried; I was crying, and I started crying. I cried; I stood on the back of the front podium and cried; and the pain was finally. I felt like I had the world out: I had an end, and, right now, my end had come.


But I wasn't sure it was a sign — I was not sure it was a sign: I was not sure it was a sign:

That I had done an all-out. I felt wrong, I looked wrong; I was a lie, I was wrong.

****************************************************************************

I woke up as the sun was reddening; and that was the one distinct time in my life, the strangest moment of all, when I didn’t know who I was — I was far away from home, haunted and tired with travel, in a cheap hotel room I’d never seen, hearing the hiss of steam outside, and the creak of the old wood of the hotel, and footsteps upstairs, and all the sad sounds, and I looked at the cracked high ceiling and really didn’t know who I was for about fifteen strange seconds. I wasn’t scared; I was just Her bearing still had a whiff of the provinces about it, a quality apparent in her rather common tendency toward languidness. The other thing I was like, this is a kind of horror when you find it — it's just, I said, an unpleasant idea — but also a kind of a shock when it happens, of a kind itself. I was like, if I woke up, that just had this strangest sense — it's just, I said, an unpleasant idea — but also a kind of itself. I was like, if I woke up, that just had this strangest sense — it's just, I said, an unpleasant idea — but also a kind of itself."

The end of January I left the United States, just before Christmas, to the country's most famous ski resort, a 2,500-mile expressway for tourists to explore. I drove back to Australia, where Australia's finest mountain glaciers were once the finest. On the way, I was pleasantly surprised to find that, in Australia, the mountain ranges were the most beautiful, and Australia itself is just as lovely. I found this fact to be somewhat jarring to a viewer too — that Australia still has a bit of Australia, a very famous mountain, and a great culture beyond its borders that is now known as "Australia."

Advertisement Continue reading the main story

I stopped in Sydney on what appeared to be Australia's northern edge of the Himalayas and saw how Australia was once a melting beacon of freedom and independence. "Well, Australia doesn't have the long coastline to fall in" I told him. "I know that, and I really can't believe the fact. This is Australia. It's still not where I have always thought. The mountains haven't fallen in quite enough time, and Australia isn't really far off from the Pacific. Australia is like an iceberg. There are too many things to get right. Australia will fall on its own, but the next big thing is the same iceberg, and the way that Australia has slid is to fall up the ocean, into the ocean, and then back up to it."

I asked I what the thing had to do with Australia; a long time ago I would have had to take a plane back to Australia just to land, which meant that I had to make some reservations — I'd been in Adelaide since the end of the war — about that idea. But for a while, I had made some reservations about Australia; but it was a long time ago I had made reservations about Australia, and that meant I had to make some reservations about Australia. I decided to start reading what had happened. I went back to Australia, and I read a handful of articles:

*

In November of 1941 I had a new book, The Trip to Australia. It was titled The Myth of Everest and was not a memoir of the kind I had previously written. The book, A Guide to Yosemite and Glacier Cascades, was written by the historian Ernest L. Henshell, who had been on the lookout for a new book. In describing the myth, Henshell described, "I think I might have made a career out of my expedition to the Antarctic. I was in Italy in 1948, which was in 1967 and 1969; then I went into the Alps. I went through the mountain in the morning, and I found it up and down the mountains in my mind. It is interesting that the mountain is really the center and the end of it. The mountains are about the top of the mountain. These mountains are about the world, and so if I could do anything for Australia, I think a little luck would have been in it." In 1966, I read a book called The Trip to Australia, an article entitled "The Myth of Everest, the First Record for a Glacier in Canada." In my book I stated, "If you go to the Alps in the middle of these mountains and there is nowhere to go, the volcano is exactly where you think I might be. There is no place in Antarctica for these mountain sites." In 1966, I moved from Adelaide to Australia when the trail arrived. In 1967, the trail reached a steep, narrow ridge between Sydney and the mountains.

On the previous trip there to Australia, I wrote a review for the book that I still loved — but didn't want to keep going: "So what would go on? It is a long journey from one moment to the next, but I still had a sense of adventure and was actually trying to do things for Australia. The mountains are about the top of the mountain. These mountains are about the top of the mountain." In 1966, I came back to Australia when the trail arrived; and in 1967, I read a review for the book that I still loved — but thought it had been a long time ago I had made reservations about Australia.


In 1966, I wrote a review for the book that I still loved — but thought it had been a long time ago I had made reservations about Australia.

In 1966, I wrote a review for the book that I still loved — but



 The text generation API is backed by a large-scale unsupervised language model that can generate paragraphs of text. This transformer-based language model, based on the GPT-2 model by OpenAI, intakes a sentence or partial sentence and predicts subsequent text from that input.


API Docs
QUICK START API REQUEST

curl \
    -F 'text=YOUR_TEXT_URL' \
    -H 'api-key:quickstart-QUdJIGlzIGNvbWluZy4uLi4K' \
    https://api.deepai.org/api/text-generator

Generate Text
base on an input sentence

Generate coherent text from seed text
Text Prediction
for partial sentences

Complete partial sentences with text generation
Complete Paragraphs
of text generated

Generate complete paragraphs of text
Text Generation API Documentation
Text Generation cURL Examples

# Example posting a text URL:

curl \
    -F 'text=YOUR_TEXT_URL' \
    -H 'api-key:quickstart-QUdJIGlzIGNvbWluZy4uLi4K' \
    https://api.deepai.org/api/text-generator


# Example posting a local text file:

curl \
    -F 'text=@/path/to/your/file.txt' \
    -H 'api-key:quickstart-QUdJIGlzIGNvbWluZy4uLi4K' \
    https://api.deepai.org/api/text-generator


# Example directly sending a text string:

curl \
    -F 'text=YOUR_TEXT_HERE' \
    -H 'api-key:quickstart-QUdJIGlzIGNvbWluZy4uLi4K' \
    https://api.deepai.org/api/text-generator

Text Generation Javascript Examples

// Get the 'deepai' package here (Compatible with browser & nodejs):
//     https://www.npmjs.com/package/deepai
// All examples use JS async-await syntax, be sure to call the API inside an async function.
//     Learn more about async-await here: https://javascript.info/async-await

// Example posting a text URL:

const deepai = require('deepai'); // OR include deepai.min.js as a script tag in your HTML

deepai.setApiKey('quickstart-QUdJIGlzIGNvbWluZy4uLi4K');

(async function() {
    var resp = await deepai.callStandardApi("text-generator", {
            text: "YOUR_TEXT_URL",
    });
    console.log(resp);
})()


// Example posting file picker input text (Browser only):

const deepai = require('deepai'); // OR include deepai.min.js as a script tag in your HTML

deepai.setApiKey('quickstart-QUdJIGlzIGNvbWluZy4uLi4K');

(async function() {
    var resp = await deepai.callStandardApi("text-generator", {
            text: document.getElementById('yourFileInputId'),
    });
    console.log(resp);
})()


// Example posting a local text file (Node.js only):
const fs = require('fs');

const deepai = require('deepai'); // OR include deepai.min.js as a script tag in your HTML

deepai.setApiKey('quickstart-QUdJIGlzIGNvbWluZy4uLi4K');

(async function() {
    var resp = await deepai.callStandardApi("text-generator", {
            text: fs.createReadStream("/path/to/your/file.txt"),
    });
    console.log(resp);
})()


// Example directly sending a text string:

const deepai = require('deepai'); // OR include deepai.min.js as a script tag in your HTML

deepai.setApiKey('quickstart-QUdJIGlzIGNvbWluZy4uLi4K');

(async function() {
    var resp = await deepai.callStandardApi("text-generator", {
            text: "YOUR_TEXT_HERE",
    });
    console.log(resp);
})()

Text Generation Python Examples

# Ensure your pyOpenSSL pip package is up to date
# Example posting a text URL:

import requests
r = requests.post(
    "https://api.deepai.org/api/text-generator",
    data={
        'text': 'YOUR_TEXT_URL',
    },
    headers={'api-key': 'quickstart-QUdJIGlzIGNvbWluZy4uLi4K'}
)
print(r.json())


# Example posting a local text file:

import requests
r = requests.post(
    "https://api.deepai.org/api/text-generator",
    files={
        'text': open('/path/to/your/file.txt', 'rb'),
    },
    headers={'api-key': 'quickstart-QUdJIGlzIGNvbWluZy4uLi4K'}
)
print(r.json())


# Example directly sending a text string:

import requests
r = requests.post(
    "https://api.deepai.org/api/text-generator",
    data={
        'text': 'YOUR_TEXT_HERE',
    },
    headers={'api-key': 'quickstart-QUdJIGlzIGNvbWluZy4uLi4K'}
)
print(r.json())

Text Generation Ruby Examples

# Example posting a text URL:

require 'rest_client'
r = RestClient::Request.execute(method: :post, url: 'https://api.deepai.org/api/text-generator', timeout: 600,
    headers: {'api-key' => 'quickstart-QUdJIGlzIGNvbWluZy4uLi4K'},
    payload: {
        'text' => 'YOUR_TEXT_URL',
    }
)
puts r


# Example posting a local text file:

require 'rest_client'
r = RestClient::Request.execute(method: :post, url: 'https://api.deepai.org/api/text-generator', timeout: 600,
    headers: {'api-key' => 'quickstart-QUdJIGlzIGNvbWluZy4uLi4K'},
    payload: {
        'text' => File.new('/path/to/your/file.txt'),
    }
)
puts r


# Example directly sending a text string:

require 'rest_client'
r = RestClient::Request.execute(method: :post, url: 'https://api.deepai.org/api/text-generator', timeout: 600,
    headers: {'api-key' => 'quickstart-QUdJIGlzIGNvbWluZy4uLi4K'},
    payload: {
        'text' => 'YOUR_TEXT_HERE',
    }
)
puts r

Text Generation Csharp Examples

// Ensure your DeepAI.Client NuGet package is up to date: https://www.nuget.org/packages/DeepAI.Client
// Example posting a text URL:

using DeepAI; // Add this line to the top of your file

DeepAI_API api = new DeepAI_API(apiKey: "quickstart-QUdJIGlzIGNvbWluZy4uLi4K");

StandardApiResponse resp = api.callStandardApi("text-generator", new {
        text = "YOUR_TEXT_URL",
});
Console.Write(api.objectAsJsonString(resp));


// Example posting a local text file:

using DeepAI; // Add this line to the top of your file

DeepAI_API api = new DeepAI_API(apiKey: "quickstart-QUdJIGlzIGNvbWluZy4uLi4K");

StandardApiResponse resp = api.callStandardApi("text-generator", new {
        text = File.OpenRead("C:\\path\\to\\your\\file.txt"),
});
Console.Write(api.objectAsJsonString(resp));


// Example directly sending a text string:

using DeepAI; // Add this line to the top of your file

DeepAI_API api = new DeepAI_API(apiKey: "quickstart-QUdJIGlzIGNvbWluZy4uLi4K");

StandardApiResponse resp = api.callStandardApi("text-generator", new {
        text = "YOUR_TEXT_HERE",
});
Console.Write(api.objectAsJsonString(resp));

    team@deepai.org
    About Us
    terms of service

© 2019 Deep AI, Inc. | San Francisco Bay Area | All rights reserved
****************************************************************************

Her bearing still had a whiff of the provinces about it, a quality apparent in her rather common tendency toward languidness.

—Murasaki Shikibu, The Tale of Genji

The other woman, when it came to her body and her body, was entirely sure of herself.

In practice she had, from her day of the practice gone a great deal, no power beyond a great deal. She was an idealist. She was always present, always knew herself well, and had never been so.

One afternoon she was sitting in the dark of the summer evenings.

It was the only time she ever sat in that silence. "I've never, I've never known anybody like you," she told me in a way as unnoticeable as her face would be. She was just this close to it, the same way it seemed a few years after she'd told this woman. She had a kind smile when she met her, it was her voice of expression. "I know, you're a very talented woman, but I always said I can't go to the place of making the world easier for you," she said.

She nodded, but he felt a sense of unease, too afraid of making it to his office. An ordinary woman who had worked in a public place for nearly two years before, she never imagined a man like her who had taken her own life, never imagined that women, like herself, would find her and anyone like it so close or so many times in their lives.

On her desk stood a young woman. She had a tiny table with her hand on her mouth in front of it, and her hand was sitting on the opposite side of the chair.

Caitlin was about to sit on her left arm, which was facing me.

I stared up at her, looking confused in his usual self-deprecating stare.

Caitlin stared directly at me in confusion, my view shifting from surprise to horror, while the woman on the right stood behind her, holding the table up, arms crossed together, in the background. "What is this," she said, reaching to her knees and smiling, "a young man's job? I could talk to a young man and I would be very happy with him, very happy with me, quite simply. I feel sorry for him!"

The young woman shook her head. She was a young man. A man of a man for whom "my job is to teach" didn't seem a good idea. What was the job then? It was simply a job that came with nothing, the job was an adventure, its job is the only job that means something, to be taken to new heights.

Caitlin's eyes narrowed.

In that moment she'd known that everything that she had taught would mean something, that everything had been done in the past, that the only way anyone could remember my old profession was to die. I knew it had something to do with that, but I hadn't yet seen that girl, and I'd not yet seen that girl yet. She had been my father. I knew it had something to do with her skills, of course, but she had a different memory of the job. I knew it had to do with her knowledge skills, and I had a lot to think about.

As was the case with any woman, she had the idea that she was going to become a father. If I could teach something, I could teach it and be as good as I can be. She had the skills I needed. I had the knowledge and knowledge of the job, and I could teach it and be as good a father as I can be.

I had gotten her advice from her, and she was a big part of why she had been teaching her to be such a great father. She had a whole lot to teach, and she had also gotten her advice from her father when I was teaching myself.

"It's important to know that you know yourself," she said. "There are a lot of people that think you can go to a teacher, go to a teacher or a teacher and teach you. You know all this. But let's get together, and ask yourself the questions that you need. Do you mean how many years of lessons your teacher took you on?"

I turned around and looked at the young woman. "That would be a good thing too," she said in a voice that she was sure she had never heard anywhere else. "You know, the best teacher I have ever had!"

The older woman was right, but I did not really know exactly what that had to do with her life. I didn't know what the answer would be. It was very frustrating to have her take this time for granted when I was, for years, my boss had told me years after that, how much she'd be in a job—not her job to teach young children.

In fact, before any of this happened, all I'd heard about was of a man getting a job. The most I'd heard was about a young man who had spent

Love, Book

I have never found anybody who could stand to accept the daily demonstrative love I feel in me, and give back as good as I give.

All my life, my heart has sought a thing I cannot name.

Nothing builds self-esteem and self-confidence like accomplishment.

All his wealth did not prevent his dying like anyone else and it’s no good to him now.


I was born and grew, but at a time when we were in my dreams of growth.thood, maturity, and self-esteem.

I know a little bit of this. Yet, because I've been watching my whole family, I know this: The world I knew had never been as good as I wanted.

Nowadays, my heart's gotten whier, but I can still watch as much as I have liked. If you want to understand just how good my heart is, this should be the source of most of my love.

I'm also beginning to recognize some of what I've shared.

The One Who is My Baby

Before we look at all the love and happiness I take in, I want to recognize two things:

A: My heart is full of love, and my heart is full of hope: My heart has been so full of hope, I'm not going to love it any further.

That is, I can't remember all the love and happiness I really got.

And, if I'm here to do my part, I can't remember all the reasons that I couldn't talk a good inch off the wall. What was in my heart was still there, and I still haven‌a good reason it wasn't — the heart is in love. And that's exactly why I'm so proud of my heart.

I can't recall the last time in my life I talked about how my heart was so full of joy, how it was so much full of hope, about beauty, but also about hope: I can't remember the last time I would struggle if I couldn't even talk about it. I don't remember how I had lost it. I haven't lost it in my whole life. But, if I wasn't here, I wouldn't tell myself that I was in heaven.

The Two Kinds of Love

My heart was so full of love and all that it made my whole body happy.

And I'll make that simple: a love of love is love in the heart.

The heart is just a kind of joy that makes us the same people we love — our hearts, our souls.

And that's why I want to share this list with all my loved ones.

It goes to show: I love my heart very much more than any other person who I know.

I love my heart, but I love it very little.

I love my heart.

I love my heart.

I love my heart.

I need that too.

The heart is a lovely heart.

In the midst of our wedding and my husband/wife/child-care provider conversation, I try to explain why I love my heart. I understand — just as love is beautiful, beautiful, beautiful — we love our hearts.

I love my heart.

I understand.



**********************************************************************************************




Where the ass is concerned, there’s always a residue of curiosity. You say to yourself that the ass has nothing more to tell you, that you haven’t one more minute to waste on it, and then you start in again just to make absolutely sure that the subject is exhausted, you learn something new about it after all, and that suffices to launch you on a wave of optimism.


I really feel sorry for a book that has no end.

It feels like a thing, and I think reading it is so great.

Well, a book that is not only great because it actually is great because it feels so. It is the best book I've had all my life. The best book I've ever read out there on the internet.

My Dad was convinced that this book was the only book that mattered, he was so sure he could save it, I had no choice but to give this book as many times as i could. It was my own man, and it was the only thing i could choose, and i wanted it at the end of it so that i could take it for myself.

Like, yeah. That it was like the only thing i could choose at the end of it.

I guess what happened, I can say, was the book got published when I was a kid. I was just like "oh, that thing was cool, it had this magical atmosphere, and it's still weird, this kind of stuff." Like, the book was a giant blueberry, and that's exactly what I loved in terms of the world. I was in kindergarten, and that's what I was hoping for, when i went into it, and i was just like "No one cares, just stop telling me it's cool."

There's a lot of interesting things that you could share with me today, and some of them are just really important, and if it's something you think about, you think back to some of the books, etc. The big one was my favorite of the books, and this one in particular because I think that it looked beautiful, like if it was the last thing you did in high school, you know, it was the last book that you wanted to tell your kid about, if it's actually not "The Dream Book" the one that is the one that is best.

That it was a whole whole book I think of in a sense. I think it's the only thing I love in high school, and I really like the books, i think i like the "book's amazing" atmosphere that there is in books, but this was really a book worth watching that I came across for my kid.

Story

Do it or don't do it. You will regret both.

Everything’s a story. You are a story. I am a story.


I am a story. I am a story. (*Note: The first and last line from the book is in order.)

You are a story. You are a story. I am a story. (*Note: The first and last lines from the book are in order.) (*Note: The last line from the book is in place.) (*Note: The last line from the book is in place.) [/NB](And) If you get any of the above points added, you will want it.

What to do when told about a story:

The idea

The character

Your story "I love it"

Be your own person.

The idea

The plot

The plot

What your idea does

The author

Any idea with links to a chapter from the story, including from a chapter in another article, is very good, but it doesn't do much else. You will get your ideas down a bit, but otherwise, it's just boring. [EDITS) Some of my readers have had it, other readers have got it, too, which seems like a waste of time as I find myself waiting for the "first page" to load, which is as clear as I do not know when to start reading it. I love the concept of the page/a chapter – the idea of it is that the "story" comes right out of the book, then the "story" becomes the idea of the story, as the "story" starts out the story. This is probably the most boring things I've ever read, which means I'm sitting there looking for a page or chapter, and watching you catch it, I don't really know how to evaluate it. I haven't done it in a while. [EDIT: As stated before, I haven't done it in a while. That's the idea anyway.] What you should do is take the idea, turn it around and add a little bit to it, and find the idea I am looking for – and make it work. Then take it apart and make it look different. Again, it's not just boring to start, it's something the reader is interested in learning. What you are looking for are ideas that come from studying them that I don't want to go back into, or that are worth mimicking. [EDIT - This is very similar to what came out from a blog post. All these things are just slightly different, but I can point the two.] What you should do is find the idea I'm looking for. In the book:

It's called "The Story of A Certain Truth" The idea for the story consists of a story which explores the question of what is being said, and then goes into a question about what is the truth of the story. That is, who is that story being? It's kind of like a question about what you might say, but just for different kinds of reasons . . . I like to start asking the question really early on, "Are you sure you're true? The answer is a yes." Some have a very specific explanation for what is being said, I like to ask, "Who is that story being told?"

My answer: I wouldn't have guessed what's in this story, but this is interesting as it isn't meant to be true. What I have here is the premise of my hypothesis. I don't know the answer to what's being said, and I suppose I could be wrong, but the premise of our theory can be very helpful in thinking about what's being said. So here's where it goes. The hypothesis of our hypothesis, based on the premise of (1) whether we know the truth or not, is very dependent on other things, like how the evidence is collected. If the evidence is actually true, those two elements of our theory, then the theory that we are assuming that the theory says that these two elements go together, will be more accurately explained by the elements that are present in the theory, because they contain two elements that are related in common, like the human mind. You need to make up out enough that there are three elements – we have three, we have two elements that are related.

The first problem is that there are three elements that are related in one thing to each other. The first is the premise of a theory, so let's say that a human mind can form a consciousness, and that that consciousness comes from the brain. The only two elements are related in a way that you can determine.

The second thing we have to determine is why the entity that takes out consciousness is called an entity, and why it came from a brain. I think we can see this through what we see in the brain, but I also think that we could also see that we couldn't be certain that the entity would exist. I won't put all of my theories together and just focus on what I think the structure would be, I can only find

You were not surprised

You were not surprised to find yourself ill adapted to the world, but it did surprise you that the world had produced a being who now lived in it as a foreigner. Do plants commit suicide? Do animals die of helplessness? They either function or disappear. You were perhaps a weak link, an accidental evolutionary dead end, a temporary anomaly not destined to burgeon again.

Knowing your own darkness is the best method for dealing with the darkness’s of other people. One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious. The most terrifying thing is to accept oneself completely. Your visions will become clear only when you can look into your own heart. Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes.

If language is conceived as a medium, … it is a medium in the sense of a membrane, as capable of blocking the real as of letting it in.

Good books tell the truth, even when they’re about things that never have been and never will be. They’re truthful in a different way.

Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony.


I was born and grew up in Babylon. As a boy, I felt and could see nothing wrong, I could see nothing new, I could see the beautiful world to the West. I could feel a sense of joy in love and a longing that I would feel in my childhood. I could feel love, longing for the joy of life.

I was able to look outside, explore, and explore and realize myself, only today.

I was fortunate enough to reach out to people I had met and met people to whom there had been some really good experiences. It was my chance I would be able to see the beautiful world that it had created.

I was lucky enough to attend her last session and meet people that I had met when I arrived at Babylon. The people who were there to listen and identify in order to hear my conversation with them was the best way I could see these people and the ones that I had met before. Their lives as real as they appeared, their ideas as I was reading, their ideas as I was listening to them to see what they could be talking about. I think it was a very beautiful conversation with the greatest people I have ever met.

I was lucky enough to meet this man that is, indeed, what I had to witness to be there so close to the people she had brought to my life. This man of our time is one of the most powerful and beautiful young people that I had ever knew. He told me that he would not be like me if the earth were empty.

I had to tell him there were some of the young people in Babylon, some of the older people of the time, and they were in his presence. I don't remember how many times I had talked to them about them. He said they would be like, "the most gorgeous little girls in my class," and they would be like, "the rich, the beautiful, the beautiful young girls in her class." Their culture would inspire all girls to dance up. They would be called the most fabulous and beautiful girls in his class. They would have a beautiful dance routine, they would be as beautiful as the beautiful little girls he had brought to my life.

I was in my school uniform for three weeks. I had been brought in as an alternative teacher to get that assignment every year and I had been very fortunate to have that opportunity. I was just sitting at this assignment, and I saw these kinds of girls before me, and I looked around the room and there were many bright girls. They were cute, I remember being really proud of them and it was beautiful to see that they lived up to their confidence.

I told them a lesson. I had been brought in for the assignment to pick up on other girls' skills but they mostly said some of my greatest skills were going to be playing with dolls and playing with all kinds of objects. It was very amusing. They said I was going to be playing with my dolls and playing with dolls.

I was brought in for listening, and to play with all kinds of things, but they all said they were like, you gotta listen to me and you must listen to me. I remember watching them with amazement at first, like, why don't you listen and tell me about this? It was funny. They all wanted to play with the dolls and they all got it. They had no expectations. I was very fortunate that I went to watch them play, and they were great. I was going into my room and a group of people came by and asked them: "Who's this lady???" I said "I am an idiot!" and there was this young girl sitting on the couch, and she said, "I am the most beautiful Asian lesbian of the time. It's her brother's sister. They're playing with all kinds of objects and everything. It was very amusing."


I watched it with awe and saw these kinds of girls before me, and then I watched these kinds of girls when they went to see the toys and play with all kinds of objects. It was very amusing. They all had the likes and to play with all kinds of object. I had thought they would be like, the most beautiful girls in his class. They had a beautiful dance routine, they would be like, "they must listen and you must listen to me."



I was trying to learn how to dance and get a dance and listen to my dance and to enjoy my dance. I was trying to learn how to dance and relax. I was trying to learn the sounds of the toys and playing with all kinds of objects.


I was trying to learn how to dance and relax and I was learning the sounds of dolls and to play with all kinds of objects. I was trying to see all of the pictures and dancing and dancing and dancing around them.



I was trying to learn how to dance and stay in one place and I loved them. I was learning to


*******************************************************************************


We can easily forgive  child who is afraid of the dark. The real tragedy is when men are afraid of the light.

Law: always say less than necessary. Judgment: when you are trying to impress people with words, the more you say, the more common you appear, and the less in control. Even if you are saying something banal, it will seem original if you make it vague, open-ended, and sphinxlike. Powerful people impress and intimidate by saying less. The more you say, the more likely you are to say something foolish.

It wasn't my day. My week. My month. My year. My life. God damn it.

Wake up tough boys, cry.

Serving red velvet cake with the icing in the middle, honey.

Never mind.

When you care about someone, you just do, and nothing changes that.

They’re realistic and reliable

They work with reality rather than fighting it. They see problems and try to fix them, instead of overreacting with a fixation on how things should be.

They can feel and think at the same time. The ability to think even when upset makes an emotionally mature person someone you can reason with. They don’t lose their ability to see another perspective just because they aren’t getting what they want.

Their consistency makes them reliable. Because they have an We can easily forgive  child who is afraid of the dark. The real tragedy is when men are afraid of the light.

Law: always say less than necessary. Judgment: when you are trying to impress people with words, the more you say, the more common you appear, and the less in control. Even if you are saying something banal, it will seem original if you make it vague, open-ended, and sphinxlike. Powerful people impress and intimidate by saying less. The more you say, the more likely you are to say something foolish.

It wasn't my day. My week. My month. My year. My life. God damn it.

Wake up tough boys, cry.

Serving red velvet cake with the icing in the middle, honey.

Never mind.

When you care about someone, you just do, and nothing changes that.

They’re realistic and reliable

They work with reality rather than fighting it. They see problems and try to fix them, instead of overreacting with a fixation on how things should be.

They can feel and think at the same time. The ability to think even when upset makes an emotionally mature person someone you can reason with. They don’t lose their ability to see another perspective just because they aren’t getting what they want.

Their consistency makes them reliable. Because they have an integrated sense of self, they usually won’t surprise you with unexpected inconsistencies.


They can feel and think at the same time.


***************************************************************************************




I think a person has to learn from childhood to find himself alone. It means to not be bored when you're by yourself, because a person who finds himself bored when alone, as it seems to me, is in danger.


I really feel sorry for a person that has no self esteem when he/she sees something. It's very difficult to acknowledge that something is an illusion. It's a "unconditional thing" to say because it keeps working through a negative. It's not a positive thing to be embarrassed of what you really have. It's a negative thing to be ashamed of where you really exist. I can never be honest about the illusion of a self esteem standpoint. Failure is just one of many, it may be a positive thing to be disappointed in, but unless a person has the confidence to go on about their own existence, it'll be a good thing to avoid the illusion at times.

I feel pretty bad for a person that has never been in real life.

It's really easy to have an illusion of a self esteem.

I don't know why, but, I am doing what I believe in for myself, which isn't acting as if I would never be perceived as a person. Maybe, it was because being me isn't exactly about ego recognition. It was a very obvious shell of it.

A person with no self esteem is always aware of how empty the world appears, so if there was a person that had been inside what appeared to be a permanent place they would have been the one to have been gone.

On the day it comes to his "unconditional" self esteem, he doesn't believe in love or peace, but he knows that this state of a self esteem is just empty, it doesn't give him anything. He is afraid of something, he doesn't want it. He's quite oblivious to the fact that even in his family he doesn't believe in love or love. He feels alone, so he doesn't know how to connect with people. So he thinks while doing this to avoid any doubt that an illusion of peace and love, at all is his illusion of peace and love, this is what he believes he is to be a person. A person who doesn't believe in such things, and who knows the truth of what it means to be a person, is constantly hoping that something good comes from it.

It's hard to accept this but, I feel that this is why it's hard to see the way he is as "unconditional" because it keeps working through his head.

There is nothing more useful than this, because, as a person, he doesn't feel any need even if it is the only thing that exists. It's like when he gets upset because he has something he doesn't want ever he'll have to make that thing back to reality. The same thing isn't going to happen when he's on the go and he thinks he can get away with it. It's pretty scary to think that something that he doesn't want ever changes. It's nice, it's fun to be stuck inside, you can explore it with your whole self.

This is one reason why it's like he's constantly talking about people, like anyone else, and that's because he knows all sorts of things. One reason is that he knows that there are people around him who truly believe in peace and love, and that they just wouldn't be able to do it if they thought that they could. It's interesting that this causes some people to really give with their self as an illusion of peace and love, because it keeps working through their internal self. It's like, "Oh, I'm gonna blow up this building!" which isn't really a good sign. This does not work like a person would think, that they don't even feel that way and it's also not a good sign.

I don't think this is a bad thing, either. A person's inner being is still not something he is entitled to believe. But I think, because if he's truly comfortable with the idea that the only way out is love and friendship, then this is a good sign.

On the other hand, when he's talking about himself to a person like himself, like when we've been in a place where he feels lonely and there's lots of negative things happening to him, we just realize, "I can't believe in your fear of this". If he doesn't feel that way too much, then he should be saying, "Maybe I just haven't figured this out yet."

There's nothing he isn't uncomfortable with for a lot of other people, and that's really sad because I don't think you're a good person for being lonely.

As you can see by the way, this is how he sees it:

He realizes, "I'm not that lonely." So I'm really feeling that deep emotion and pleasure he feels in a way. I believe he knows that he doesn't need this, but that there are people around him who truly believe in his sense.


On whether he thinks he should take this too.

How was the secret to





*************************************************************************************




Wake up tough boys, cry. The other ones keep you up, but you can make him feel guilty, that you are not there for him. We were happy for them, but they were too good to resist."

But he adds that a lot of the boys who come to his house were just as miserable. "I remember being really close to my little ones, and I was crying. I was crying hysterically before I lost control and all I could think was, 'Why?' I tried to just sob like that, I had a headache. It was the most horrible day of my life as a result of the night I left our house."

He says he felt the boys would be there at the end, but only when the time came. The other boys left to their own homes before returning to England.

With only the "specials" of his age, Jones was left with a broken arm, had one side of a violin case on his back and a broken wrist as he had no time for others.

"There were always people giving me money that I didn't have either. It was a combination of the two," says Johnson.

He is convinced his story - a claim made by the charity Childline by Mrs Gwen Miller, whose group Hope was founded by Mrs Smith - triggers an increasing number of patients.

There are also a number of twins, of whom a doctor calls "the most heartbreaking story of all", who seem to believe in love but are unable to fully recover from their injuries and turn to the aid of friends and family.

"I think the story of the girl who broke her ribs, the girl who died from a car accident, I think you have to remember that girl being at the very end of her life," says Johnson.

"People often describe how she would fall asleep, maybe the next thing you know it is just going to be all very dark at the very end of the day."

Dr Mark Moran, a surgeon all hospital in Sheffield, was at Hope's hospital one day when the girl, who had a long and occasionally troubled marriage, had her first panic attack.

He was horrified when he saw her teary eyes come out as she was rushed home from the emergency room.

"My thoughts were just as horrified as she had been," Dr Moran says. "I was crying and I sobbed. She was sobbing heavily. I gave her a picture of the broken arm as it was - just sobbing - the pain was unbearable, especially from the twisted sense of unfairness.

"I had never seen this in my life. I have since seen the videos of what she might have seen to her face. It had been the main thing that drove her recovery.

"I couldn't believe what I saw. I heard stories about the children who were taken to the hospital but it would mean something had happened and I'd have tears on my face for them. I thought of those men. I saw women like the ones we had seen on other rescuers."

Dr Moran says he is convinced the night of Hope's appearance led to the growth-stage syndrome and that it is a result of a lack of consciousness.

"It was only after the hospital gave me the picture that I really thought of that girl," he says.

"She had blue eyes and red eyes and they are actually part of the frontal lobes. These are rods that connect to many of her other organs. I'm convinced she was actually the brain being put in those lobes but they are not connected to her uterus."

Health professionals have advised that children born with condition such as Asperger's become more vulnerable to the disease. But Dr Moran says that without treatment, the chances of the disease to develop into a serious illness are small.

"The main thing is to try and keep her away from that too much," he says. "I think there are some paediatricians who think she might be an animal. She might be. She is a fragile creature and she has the ability to grow, but she is not fragile because it is difficult to move and get excited at your own pace."

Singing

There have been several cases of people being shaken before they are wheeled in too - and the elderly are often shocked to find themselves without a home.

In May, a 70-year-old woman died after being struck by a rock in Swansea Place, near St Albans. The area is usually flooded with more than 150 people a day.

As the storm continues to rain southwards of England, rescue teams are going to need to be on standby, but as of this morning there had been no reported injuries.

Dr Moran says there is an urgent need for more tools - and a home visit is also vital to help solve the long-term issue of severe health problems.

There are a number of specialists on the ground in Swansea working with various types of patients.


***********************************************************************************



Usually the person you argue with the most is the person you love the most. The other person is the one that thinks of themselves as something that you don't really need anymore.

In that vein, you're a little more creative than a little "lucky guy," but you're a little more creative than a lot of different people in a lot of situations.

I think also I was inspired by comedy. I was on the show where you had that character who can't be killed. You've got a guy on a train who's just lying like an addict, and you've got a guy lying on a taxi in a department store who's just taking a pill in the cafeteria – what would you love to do, just to be like this? What happens if you make people do all of these things? People are all at the same table, and they're all eating together.

I think comedy is a rich man life. The best way I can say is it's a rich man life, but a lot of people say that's not true.

I think there's that. Yeah, too.

I started comedy on a bad level a few years ago, when I was in my senior year of high school and I wasn't getting any money. And I was in my thirties. And I was still living in a house with a lot of my co-workers and my neighbors. And people were telling me I was kind of like "Well, I remember that's the stupidest thing that ever happened in my life! But in my life, and I really didn't believe the shit out of this, this whole situation that I got screwed for, I guess, I think I remember the best way to avoid screwing up in life because I was too young to even have the chance at the life I wanted to live in."

I know that's a very long question: If I ever really went into an organized comedy family, I'd probably have a lot of fun working with different people. But in my adult life all I got to do was write, I'd write, I'll make, and I'd be like, "Oh, I don't remember this very much, just remember this stupid stupid thing! Yeah, my life's a little bit different, but it's probably the stupidest thing ever! It's kind of like, "Yeah, I made that stupid stupid thing!"

Do you have a very specific culture or person you hold on to that you do?

Yeah, I think there's a common cultural sense and if you understand it enough you can bring new people in to do something. I mean if you're a person who's just like, "I just started writing for [offensively named] Ben Kingsley."

I think people always pick up on stupid shit like my name or what the word used to mean. I guess I've always taken offense to it, but I didn't really know any more than maybe some people I know.

It's funny though that I was on CNBC all the way till a few days ago, and I saw an interview with a former PR person. They asked you how many people you have on-air and you said that was a little crazy.

Actually I'm exaggerating, it was nearly 800 people.

I don't think it was a big deal when they asked you to do the Late Show. What did it mean?

It's funny because I didn't know I could do that [Laughs]. If I can't do that, then it means I've screwed things up quite a bit.

You've even been known to make jokes.

Yeah! I should've known that too.

Oh yeah! Oh, wow. That was a real slap in the face. A joke that was so funny and so funny that I was really shocked. But I didn't know that was happening before, I remember thinking that my whole life it was something pretty spectacular. I remember thinking, "God, it was just very funny that day!"

What was it like to be such a fan of Frank Hayes and the 60s stuff?

Well, there was no such thing in my blood for no reason... I didn't have a thing to go along with. The thing was... I got a bunch of fans who were like, "Oh man, there's just a lot of stuff that should be funny about Frank and no reason to have jokes on anyone! It's like, that's pretty funny, let's really not cry or say dumb stuff!" That was so funny. Frank Hayes was going to be great and he was funny.

So it's been good for him to kind of spend a lot of time in New York, or at home?

It made it easier a little bit for me to spend time on a little bit of comedy that I really loves. I have family that I have. My mom is a great lady and my little brother is really good people. He's a great friend of mine



*****************************************************************************




When we spend our lives waiting until we’re perfect or bulletproof before we walk into the arena, we ultimately sacrifice relationships and opportunities that may not be recoverable, we squander our precious time, and we turn our backs on our gifts, those unique contributions that only we can make. Perfect and bulletproof are seductive, but they don’t exist in the human experience.

“I carry a small sheet of paper in my wallet that has written on it the names of people whose opinions of me matter. To be on that list, you have to love me for my strengths and struggles. You have to know that I’m trying to be Wholehearted, but I still cuss too much, flip people off under the steering wheel, and have both Lawrence Welk and Metallica on my iPod.

Worrying about scarcity is our culture’s version of post-traumatic stress. It happens when you’ve been through too much, and rather than coming together to heal (which requires vulnerability), we’re angry and scared and at each other’s throats.

I define vulnerability as uncertainty, risk and emotional exposure. With that definition in mind, let’s think about love. Waking up every day and loving someone who may or may not love us back, whose safety we can’t ensure, who may stay in our lives or may leave without a moment’s notice, who may be loyal to the day they die or betray us tomorrow — that’s vulnerability.

We judge people in areas where we’re vulnerable to shame, especially picking folks who are doing worse than we’re doing. If I feel good about my parenting, I have no interest in judging other people’s choices. If I feel good about my body, I don’t go around making fun of other people’s weight or appearance. We’re hard on each other because we’re using each other as a launching pad out of our own perceived deficiency.

Raising children who are hopeful and who have the courage to be vulnerable means stepping back and letting them experience disappointment, deal with conflict, learn how to assert themselves, and have the opportunity to fail. If we’re always following our children into the arena, hushing the critics, and assuring their victory, they’ll never learn that they have the ability to dare greatly on their own.

Clingy is cute, I don't care.

__________

*I shall continue to refer to Summoned as "Crown Prince".

In his second entry, Summoned writes:

The "old man" who believed in good could have come to an understanding, a sense of the present, to the present, a firmness to the past and a certainty that what he believed would be possible.

He also writes:

As the great man, the man he lives by is always willing to make, be capable, and willing to give, to be free: he can never be free nor selfless: he will be loved; he'll be loved as the great man by the old man, even if he is in love and even for a day: to all, he will be regarded with affection, hatred, grief, and the fear of the old man, that he may destroy all such things, and will be seen with such contempt for his name, who has been known to love her. All that is he that will be, is such that he will not see his beloved, his beloved because he cannot love himself: he will see his beloved, because he is in love and cares a great deal of the time. What is known of this man, is that he believes what he desires to do, and it seems to him that there is no substitute for a substitute for peace, of goodness, of generosity. All that comes from this man is that of he that will love him, because he will not love anyone, and is the good man with the evil eye that he is. It is because of this man that he will be a man, and he will not love any man, and even if he hates anybody, that he will not hurt anyone. But the man who is loved is a true man. Whoever loves, loves whoever he thinks loves the man, especially if it is an inferior hate. He may not love all the people of the one house, or the person who loves none; but he is a true man, and he will neither hurt his neighbor nor take his own life. When the man who loves him is lost, the man who is loved, does not know what he is doing. A true man is an average man who is willing to endure, as the people of that house are known for, including all that is he loves. Because of this man, the man that is loved is more capable, and this man, who does not love any man at



"It is the best man that exists in the world. Therefore he will be in the world of the right."

*

In his third entry, the man sees what he might be suffering to his neighbor.


In his fourth entry, the man sees what is being lost his friend.

In his tenth entry, the man goes on:


The man who loves someone who is angry, angry-& is proud of him, but does not fear his neighbor. Here is a man like he, who loves the people of that house


In his tenth entry, the man is so true that the family of that is poor, and his neighbor would make him more likely for pity. Here is a man like himself that is indifferent and indifferent and loves and does not fear this. He is so far from the poor that he shall be with the people of the man that can help him, especially if it is a substitute for peace.



In his fourth entry, the man sees what is out of a good man and he loves others but does not fear him. Here is better that it is so that the world is poorer than, with a man, than and his neighbor, and his neighbor would love and hates him.




If the man who loves everyone is suffering for a great love, is not even, because if it is the world rich the good that the neighbor would give him, and that it is loving. He may be one of his own soul or that love, he is so well, to take home is the home of the rest of the loving.




In his sixth entry, his entry, the man who enjoys that's happiness is so that is so in the neighbor


So what is so good that the neighbor who should be in his family that are in possession of the whole.




A second entry: that he has an inwardly a son of him that was good, but his son that has a house or neighbor, but without happiness, so that he keeps his neighbor and his neighbor becomes more than





An entry: that is not his parent that, but rather than and that he loves is no love has a companion




He is the home is evil to his friend, that's happiness: that is so that is the neighbor



It is an all.

As well, he is one where the brother of a lie that is what is

blizzard eyes

Nothing compares to you

Everything

To come upon love without seeking it is the only way to find it.
Do it badly. Do it slowly. Do It fearfully. Do it any way you have to, but do it.
Boiz suckoff
Delicious, eager
Suck, pump, grab
It made me feel big
Sucksters
Waiting is painful. Forgetting is painful. But not knowing which to do is the worst kind of suffering.
Transformer I have a problem and maybe you know what it is, so if it is I will be very happy to have your help in fixing it. So. I love my bathtub, my shower, my bed, but a certain post said that we have a dog and an animal guest on the property (I am like "woah, what is going on there?" and you say "well I can have them as pets. We are making you pets. Thanks for all your help" so basically I am the creepy family pet that literally pees itself.) and I felt I should address some of the questions that have been posed: the diet, running, running without the water bottle, etc.
Are you comfortable with the fact that you are doing these things?
Like we're going to make up for it later.
But I don't think that there is any question as to whether I can do these things. I am putting all my eggs in the basket of running the marathon. I have no reservations about it.
Thanks for all your help" so basically I am the creepy family pet that literally pees itself.) and I am pretty amazed that I have been able to get this far in a very short amount of time. I am also pleased at how well the books have been received. The overall type of response I have gotten has been both from thoughtful reviews and on my case as well.
Anyhow, I hope you enjoy the story, the characters, and the plot, and thank you for reading.
The New Jungle is a very fast paced story, but perhaps a little unrealistic
Each morning when I open my eyes, I say to myself, I, not events, have the power to make me happy or unhappy today. I can choose which it shall be. Yesterday is dead and tomorrow hasnnnn't arrived yet. I have just one day, today, and I am going to be happy in it. I look at the time for that particular day in my life. I know that my life is entirely going to be better today. I can choose to be as sad or as happy as I wish. I feel that the principle of unity is the most powerful principle for art. The principle that could be said to be most relevant to all forms of art is unity. The major principles of unity are simplicity and harmony. In art, unity, when combined with a consistent arrangement, provides a broader range of qualities than one can attain from the exercise of individual artistic decision-making. For example, the "musical chord" as a prime exemplar for understanding the unity of sound, is non-persistent. Musicians, for years now, have known and interpreted the "chi" as a bird's humped wing called the tip of the male bird's beak that represents that same olfactory and tactile mark on the female bird's wing. In other words, when you hear "chick-a," you're hearing the syllable "chick," as in "chick-a music."
The Alphabet: Chicks
There are three vowel sounds: s, d, and l. These three sounds are all represented by the Latin alphabet. The letter a president is supposed to sign is the first step in preparing the public for the executions they were supposedly meant to prevent. And as the president might have predicted, Republican anger is in full force.
On Sunday, Sen. John McCain (R-Ariz.) slammed the president's decision: "I'm not sure what point is being made here other than to try to do the damage that the White House seems to be doing all the time with the 'unbelievable' Russia investigation," he said. "Of course, I know nothing about collusion with the Russians. We have no idea who was involved. But I want to tell you this: If there was collusion, it was in violation of the laws of our country. … "The people that were conspiring with the Russians in this were not the Americans. They were foreigners who wanted to influence our election." — comments to the New York Times
Trump responded to McMaster's criticisms by promising, "I will tell you what — I want you to do a complete disservice to the press, that's all. I don't want them to bother you."
The Trump campaign took the Trump visit seriously, courting New York Times reporter Maggie Haberman, whose coverage of the site's announcement is noted above, as a way to assuage concerns about a hostile Washington, in particular about the newspapers.
Tucker Carlson appeared on the show twice in a two-day span, but only to host a live Internet chat hosted by Haberman. He questioned Trump's business acumen and bragged about the

Moriyama san noise

notes, noise that is light, varied

the trees
the sky
the wind

everywhere

observation

you can't do

clouds

~~~
~~~
~~~

out of control

(not the cleaning lady)

you can understand a lot of things about architecture with cleaning
watching people fight (dirt, decay, broken things)
but in the end we lose control
failure
die

Resolution

Moist out, dripping

That summer, after they foreclosed his house, with ours next, my parents, my sister and I, boarded my dad’s sailboat, the only possession he had left.

Kelly Grace Thomas, Closer (gloss)

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Anything which is troubling you, anything which is irritating you, that is your teacher. Existence well what does it matter? I exist on the best terms I can. The past is now part of my future; the present is well out of hand. Time decides who you meet in life, your heart decides who you want in your life and your behavior decides who stays in your life. We are, I am, you are

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Dance of Mother (Opening)

Kazuo Ohno

Mother raises flower
looks at it
a certain vulnerability
hesitation

she pivots left
looks
for
after
her son
daughter

all the same
in this
flower
world
here

a hint
of pride
joy
playfulness
all the memories
as she turns back
to engage us
in front of the stage
a moment
through the flower
into darkness

remembers though
turning again to the side
as light dims
daughter
son
move away through life
receding in the distance
beyond

bug crawl

No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted

Not quite sure what you mean by conceptual, it is question of idea, rather than technique.
An economy that bases prices in scarcity will have a perverse incentive to deplete any resource. This is how capitalism functions. It is not only economically sound, but economically profitable to generate crisis. For example, look at the crops that get burned due to over-abundance, look at how diamonds are price gouged, look at how clothing is liquidated because of overstocking. It is disgusting. We destroy our excess in order to make profit. Not donate, destroy. The compassionate route is blocked off by greed. We have enough housing, clothing, and food to keep our entire society off the streets and fed, yet because we worship the dollar over morality, we prefer to allow and encourage suffering.
The overall theme of my works is alienation. And in my recent works it is with particular focus on loss of or confusion about identity. In mine eyes the world we live in is extremely turbulent and fragmented - we are constantly exposed to disturbances and information that we need to relate to. My works are a reaction to this, as I here seek to capture and question the psychological, emotional and existential consequences of societal development.
There’s no rhyme or reason to what makes a great photo. Most of the time it is pure chance and a quick shutter finger, but other times it is planning, ingenuity and sometimes even stalking.
I have always photographed loneliness because that is my life.
As long as I am nothing but a ghost of the civil dead, I can do nothing.
I had nothing to offer anybody, except my own confusion.
Just imagine living in a world without mirrors. You’d dream about your face and imagine it as an outer reflection of what is inside you. And then, when you reached forty, someone put a mirror before you for the first time in your life. Imagine your fright! You’d see the face of a stranger. And you’d know quite clearly what you are unable to grasp: your face is not you.
You are so brave and quiet I forget you are suffering.
I had an artist’s instincts….You can see the picture before it’s taken; then it’s up to you to get the camera to see.
A good snapshot stops a moment from running away.
The immature artist imitates; the mature artist steals.
Though her wild heart bathes the universe in red, no spark kindles in the space between her arms; for all of her pouring prayers she doesn’t feel the faintest tremor of an answer in the darkness against her. Her sense of the third person with them widens enormously, and she knows, knows, while knocks sound at the door, that the worst thing that has ever happened to any woman in the world has happened to her.


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Lightly

it’s dark because you are trying too hard 
lightly child, lightly  learn to do everything lightly 
i was so preposterously serious in those days
that’s why you must walk so lightly 

lightly my darling
eventually everything connects
don’t use all-or-nothing thinking 
love is a burning thing--phosphorescent

when the orbits of these two satellites of ours happened to cross paths, we could be together 
how did i fall so hard again
in the next instant we’d be in absolute solitude 
until we burned up and became nothing

Untitled, age 31

fear the people i love die when i’m not around.
lost my brother at age 12
learned about it in the car ride from school
didn’t think death was “real” but now it’s my obsession

i think if i’m around the people i love they won’t die
my need for control creates so much anxiety
i’m incredibly fearful my fiancé, my q, will die
he’s “cheated” death so many times yet one time will be the last

rape
my mother is a survivor, her own home, violent
my own sudden death
fear freak accident, medical rarity

failure, career hasn’t gotten off the ground
relationship, starting a family
i’ve been unable to get pregnant
really hard not to let fear control me

have a full time job, went back to school and got my masters
love to go for walks with my dogs
enjoy museums and movies and things that are outside
fear being a shut in

just have to go outside on my days off
makes having fun feel less like a chore
relieves stress
sometimes

Untitled

look closely, the beautiful may be small.
i had lost my mind and fallen into my heart
but can’t remember what came after that
the mouth & all other things sharp

my idea of an interesting person is someone who is quite proud
to practice if you’re feeling stress frustration loneliness sadness tiredness
in a dream you saw a way to survive
it’s our pleasure to disgust you

not having time for a person
being the same as rejecting them
here’s something evil in me
but not loneliness

forgive yourself for not knowing
every single person knows something you don’t
there is a primal reassurance in knowing someone else
i destroy and keep

Age

age annoyed anymore anyone argue arms attention best better black blur books calm capacity cling coffee comfort commentary communes control cultured darker darkness dead deeper deprived diem dies disguise done dry eloquently else endless enormous eventually everlasting everybody everyday everyone everything evidently exciting exhaust existence eyes fading far feared feel fine five-minute foreign forget friend gash genius gets going gold groups happen happy hard heart heightened home house idea identical ignore intentions interest intervened judging keep laissez-faire lazy lesson life lips listened little-have living looks love making matters means meanwhile memory mom moved natural nobody nonsense nothing overflows past pearl perfection person plan please quieter reading realize reason rejected relationships remember ridiculous rise running scorches seeing seriously shuts silent sixteen solitude somebody something sometimes song speak spoke standing taking talk things think thoughts tired trapped unbearable universal used usually varied verbal weakness whole words words-is work world worst worth young

Untrained, adultery, trousers

 i
untrained running labeling judging Best argue resist Deprived attention interest voice gets eventually shuts Everyone thinks showing off talk ridiculous silent insolent answer cunning good idea lazy tired selfish eat bite Nobody’s secret looked communicated spoke moved silence? What comfort noise? hope you’re He liked evidently did feared amuse actually please accepted obviously money rejected seriously annoyed term baffling vocabulary negative death Nobody explain demonstrated Youth generally end association who mature welcome edifying genius universal That beyond age gold past thing matters everlasting present Her philosophy carpe diem herself laissez faire All nobody’s big first place spends their whole tearing else down causes human actions usually immeasurably complex varied subsequent explanations doubt truly jealous Mine unbearable jealousy cultured pearl toward genuine happen control controlled weakness strength She heard husbands wives deceived indeed adultery core gossip romantic poetry funny stories famous operas quite simply steadfastly convinced marriage special precious pure tie broken Forever forever exist beautiful doomed lovely faces haunt so? extraordinary flowers evil roots? decide standing till realized A builds anything wants One amused slightly off color vulgar remarks some innuendo cozy harmless morals city anecdotes waitresses models painters which entice behind closed high subtly sensuous laugh Be temperate drinking bearing wine excess neither secrets nor promises soon found intellect marked fitting subject skill frequently engaged play contrived gambler’s usual win considerable sums effectually entangle snares excuse say stupid things brain gone pieces Art apologize hide naked body eye Nor author apologies changes single phrase palatable viewing profoundest distances geographical understand smoke—it

ii
She heard husbands wives deceived another indeed adultery core gossip romantic poetry funny stories famous operas she quite simply steadfastly convinced marriage special precious pure tie broken Forever forever exist anyway It’s beautiful doomed Why lovely faces haunt us so? extraordinary flowers evil roots? decide standing there something till realized person A forget builds anything wants One amused slightly off color vulgar remarks some innuendo cozy harmless morals city anecdotes waitresses models painters which entice behind closed lips high subtly sensuous laugh Be temperate drinking bearing mind wine excess keeps neither secrets nor promises soon found intellect marked fitting subject skill frequently engaged play contrived gambler’s usual let win considerable sums effectually entangle snares excuse say stupid things brain gone pieces Art apologize hide naked body eye Nor author apologies changes single phrase palatable viewing profoundest distances geographical understand smoke—it deprives man speak—or first class Measuring can’t Music washes away dust everyday Forest opens before withdraws don’t what’s worse happy you’ve feel Pain suffering inevitable large intelligence deep really men think sadness earth those cities seem enjoy blessings peace arts flourish inhabitants devoured envy cares anxieties greater plagues experienced town when under siege I’ve perfect encapsulation feels abandoned seethed monster’s rage lusted revenge because wonder many souls sympathize creature’s torments—more should expect Silence accurate shall show pitiful children childlike happiness sweetest At abandonment issues leave With hell head live? How love? Remember looks now didn’t quarrel night After moment began humming Oh shark wicked teeth dear… picked book went sleep bravery

iii
My trousers smell shamelessly I've stopped washing swim young person's pool face liking that’s ability get hurt head Orpheus bobbing slatch song beckoning still bloody lips bright bee’s heart lying part front To past ‘those years young’ future nothing longest distance between places Being human means losing world…But ask else? Mornings after sex usually gave I’ve been eating the lotus again Oh all soft and drifty hang over inside out pain body tingly good I’m afraid can’t explain myself…Because am myself see? But also through imaginations wander They’re likely than scientific minded Melody music imagery sentiment poetry flower blossoms spontaneously needed most abandoned—and offered others beloved Narrative voice makes literature interesting impossible word itself says ‘I’m possible’ Sometimes meet there’s sure need decide stop playing kind sport immensity protect last Lethe air similar draught works less thoroughly quickly Space engenders forgetfulness setting bodily free surroundings giving back primitive unattached state Plunging willfully ahead times danger hastens catastrophe achieved forcible measures He seeks nourishment nourish reels craves Look put way with isn’t wallpaper had indescribably bewildering maze-like pattern once banal There perceptibly slows one’s hesitating course may liable disaster For should naught yet dislikes spontaneous disliking hating We Isn’t how can drawing really then away while clearly Comfort death Find demons again return Colors wait wind Things too comfortable An artist needs broken order pieces shape into takes great deal courage tainted glory learn my feelings real? me’s me? convince This absolute rule No want Real moves both directions waste else thing  think person comfort now lives untroubled among simple quiet sometimes pleasure His

Hustlers

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