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I feel like beig supportive but due to being an emotional black hole, and also being on my iPhone due to my normal internet being out of service, I'm just going to say, I'm possibly going to turn down a job at the equivalent of the Overlook hotel, complete with being isolated in the mountains while the hotel is closed for 6 months and living onsite with my family. No word if they have a boiler problem or a topiary. Also, I don't have a drinking problem, but if I don't get a job (and associated paycheque) soon, I may.
i am reading 'it'
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and after 3 days, he is risen!

If you are paying $20 for a haircut, I imagine people assume you did it yourself anyway.

Pocket change cost me my first and only black girlfriend.   It was in the middle of a roaring poker boom and I was flush in ways most men don't even bother dreaming of. Money, it was like dirt to me

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I was totally clueless at the time. A friend of mine said, "Hey chicken howsithangin? A lottapeoplewannaeatyoubut I just wannatalktoyou okay?" I've since seen the Wahlberg-SNL-backstage-skit shit, but I never saw the aforementioned WahlbergRampage. I just -- and I mean just, like, within the last few weeks -- started watching Community and Parks and Recreation. Both shows are good, but I'm years late. I was just going through some of my old FCP posts, trying to decide on what I'd consider using if I ever write a book, and I really, really struggled. Oddly, the things I like are usually small things, like when I told all those cowboys fans that I'd tell them so, then proceeded to tell them so; or, my personal favorite, the Kurt sucks his own penis thread. There were a few things I said to Wakefield I thought were worthy of reading, but I forgot where they were. I have started writing again, and I want to put some stuff together, so if any of you can think of anything -- posts, threads, whatever -- you think I should remember and use, I'd love to rediscover them.Anyway. Say hi to your mother for me, okay?
I always fondly remember the salamander story you wrote for Vicky (i?).
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Kissy asked me to speak at his brother's memorial. I don't know what to say. I have never, in my life, been so terrified of letting someone down. All I can think of is Thomas Merton, who most of us know as "that monk referenced by Leo in the finale of Season 3 of The West Wing."MY LORD GOD, I have no idea where I am going.I do not see the road ahead of me.I cannot know for certain where it will end.Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so.But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you.And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing.I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire.And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it.Therefore will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death.I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone. I have no problem reading that without reference to God, as an homage to friendship. "I believe the desire to please you does in fact please you, and I hope to have that desire in all I do, that I will never do anything apart from that. We may know nothing about the road we walk, but if we trust each other and walk it together, we need know nothing. I have no fear, my friend, for we will never face danger alone. There is no danger together."I just got this call a few minutes ago, but all I could think about was Leo talking to Bartlett. I've always been Leo to my best friend's Bartlett, but the roles were kind of reversed. I'm more charismatic, but he's smarter and better. He's my moral compass, but I'm the only one who knows. It's... I'm more like Bartlett on the outside, but he's Bartlett on the inside. He's the tortured one, but I'm the only one who appears so, the one who lives outside.He doesn't have anyone else, is the thing. He needs me to be Leo, Bartlett, Stanley, Toby, Sam.... and I have to speak. I will cry, but if I can get the words on paper, I can say them through tears, through pain and devastation and... I can do that. I just have to write it, first, and I can't do that through tears and pain and devastation.I hope, beyond hope, that:I don't always know the right thing to do, but that I hope that I want to please him pleases him.

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I love you too Wang, and I think and hope I apologized at the time, although perhaps not profusely. I was obviously having a really shitty week/two weeks, and I basically took it out on you. I know this is all ancient history and I sound like an dick for saying this while you're going through something serious and awful, but it cheered me that your surrogate mentioned me last week. I'm not sure if you got my return message that I still listen to that Fuck Buttons album, but it was meant as an apology, as well as a reminder that even dickheads like me were thinking about you and missed you.

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Good to have you back, Wang....I quit the booze today myself. I probably wont pick up another bottle for at least two days after last nights benderI have no idea what to say at a funeral since Im told at every one I attend to keep my mouth shut... multiple times, in factIn other newsMy plans for the rest of the week are hanging out on the BEACH, some light business reconnaissance, a possible car purchase, and a trip through the desert outback in search of mines to exploreAs a reminder to my hundreds of followers the vast amount of the trip will be documented via twitter...Fortunately my phone was turned in to security last night after whatever the hell happened after the Crown delivery to the table commenced

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My phone literally died 2 sentences in to me reading wangs post, that provided some self induced suspense. All I can do is reiterate what speedz said. I'm busy that day too.

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First, let me apologize for the lack of recent entries. I was in Vegas for a week and wasn't in the mood to sacrifice Life Equity by dicking around on the internet, and I just relocated to a new apartment in Kalamazoo with my buddy Chris. I should be completely set up in the next couple of days, and will resume my regularly scheduled intermittent blogging.I'll write up a Vegas trip report soon, but for now I don't have a ton of time so for now a brief anecdote from a few years ago will have to do. Anyone reading this should know I probably spend at least a few hours a week thinking about this, or talking to Chris about it. Which is sick.Background:When I was in highschool, there was a slight overcrowding issue for a few years, so we had to send kids to the Perry Center campus for various classes. I had an English class there sophomore year, and it was brutal. The facilities were ancient (generations upon generations of Grand Blanc kids have had preschool classes, there, including yours truly), and stupid-uncomfortable. The worst was the bathrooms. Since Michigan gets frigidly cold during the winter season, schools have to be equipped with blaze-capable heating equipment. For some reason, the 2nd floor bathroom at the Perry Center was usually about 110 degrees when the heat was on. After my first trip the 3rd day of class there, I vowed never to return. A friend of mine once confided that he wasn't feeling well, and- though he was making a Yeoman's effort to keep it together another hour- was going to have to take a more-than-brief detour to the Perry Center combination Bathroom/Sauna.He turned his back to me, and walked down the hall towards the restroom, head hung and shoulders slumped, like an inmate walking down deathrow. He emerged a few minutes later, sweating fiercely, hair matted to his head, looking like he'd just given birth. (I later learned this wasn't far from the truth.)Chris's little brother Zazz was desperate one afternoon, unable to hold himself together any longer. He flew into the bathroom, and slammed open the nearest stall door...Inside were two of my classmates, Alvin and Stanley. Alvin whipped his head around, looking 1-part abashed, and 2-parts furious. According to reports, he was dressed like Samuel L. Jackson in "A Time to Kill," complete with sweat-soaked wifebeater. Zazz stared in shock for a few moments, before Alvin exclaimed:"Hey maaaaaan! You think we in heeah, playin' motha****in' swords and shit... SWORDS AND SHIT?!"I first heard that story a year ago, and haven't stopped thinking about it since. In my mind, the funniest part is that Alvin actually REPEATED the "SWORDS AND SHIT?!" phrase. "Well, Alvin, the thought had never crossed my mind, but now I cannot stop thinking about anything else." I think I might get "Swords and shit" tattooed somewhere. Nothing's ever brought me so much joy. Ah, Zazz.... I hope you don't mind me telling this story nonstop the next few days

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Maudlinism isn't my only state, at the moment, but it's leading the pack by a wide margin.Can I make a suggestion? One I'd never make in any other state but this one? Call or email your brother or sister or maw or paw. Say anything you want, but make sure each person knows... I think Zazz knew, I'm almost sure of it, but Chris isn't. Just make sure you're not in a situation where someone will answer a question you didn't ask, providing an answer -- sincere, sure, but impossibly so -- as a platitude, starting, almost inevitably, with, "I'm sure..."Just be sure. Nobody should ever have to tell you that.I emailed TheKid today, and he wrote back, and I got a chance to use Zazz's death to say the things I would never have been compelled to say, otherwise. It's so easy to lose that stuff, you know? My mom and dad called today, my best friends and their best friends, all in hysterics, because the rumor mill had it wrong. Their concern was touching, but their relief -- "Oh thank God it wasn't Chris" -- was almost revolting. That's unfair, I know, because I would feel the same way, but it still made me feel dirty when I was calling someone to tell him his friend wasn't dead, just his brother, and being the bearer of good news. I will be leaving again, soon, but I want to thank you all for tolerating my twilight side. This empty piece of paper has been my crutch, and without it, I shudder...The simple act of typing letters and words and sentences and paragraphs and compositions has been therapeutic.

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I will be leaving again, soon, but I want to thank you all for tolerating my twilight side. This empty piece of paper has been my crutch, and without it, I shudder...The simple act of typing letters and words and sentences and paragraphs and compositions has been therapeutic.
Why; leave, then?
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I will be leaving again, soon
Yeah. This is a terrible idea.
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I feel like beig supportive but due to being an emotional black hole, and also being on my iPhone due to my normal internet being out of service, I'm just going to say, I'm possibly going to turn down a job at the equivalent of the Overlook hotel, complete with being isolated in the mountains while the hotel is closed for 6 months and living onsite with my family. No word if they have a boiler problem or a topiary. Also, I don't have a drinking problem, but if I don't get a job (and associated paycheque) soon, I may.
Wait...why would you turn it down? Too much family time?
I was just going through some of my old FCP posts, trying to decide on what I'd consider using if I ever write a book, and I really, really struggled. Oddly, the things I like are usually small things, like when I told all those cowboys fans that I'd tell them so, then proceeded to tell them so; or, my personal favorite, the Kurt sucks his own penis thread. There were a few things I said to Wakefield I thought were worthy of reading, but I forgot where they were. I have started writing again, and I want to put some stuff together, so if any of you can think of anything -- posts, threads, whatever -- you think I should remember and use, I'd love to rediscover them.
Every story about Jess. The girl deserves her own chapter, mister.
I quit the booze today myself. I probably wont pick up another bottle for at least two days after last nights bender
Oh, phew. When I read, "I quit the booze today," I thought that you meant today you had made the decision to quit...not, "I have quit only for today."Again I say: phew.
Kissy asked me to speak at his brother's memorial. I don't know what to say. I have never, in my life, been so terrified of letting someone down. All I can think of is Thomas Merton, who most of us know as "that monk referenced by Leo in the finale of Season 3 of The West Wing."I have no problem reading that without reference to God, as an homage to friendship. "I believe the desire to please you does in fact please you, and I hope to have that desire in all I do, that I will never do anything apart from that. We may know nothing about the road we walk, but if we trust each other and walk it together, we need know nothing. I have no fear, my friend, for we will never face danger alone. There is no danger together."I just got this call a few minutes ago, but all I could think about was Leo talking to Bartlett. I've always been Leo to my best friend's Bartlett, but the roles were kind of reversed. I'm more charismatic, but he's smarter and better. He's my moral compass, but I'm the only one who knows. It's... I'm more like Bartlett on the outside, but he's Bartlett on the inside. He's the tortured one, but I'm the only one who appears so, the one who lives outside.He doesn't have anyone else, is the thing. He needs me to be Leo, Bartlett, Stanley, Toby, Sam.... and I have to speak. I will cry, but if I can get the words on paper, I can say them through tears, through pain and devastation and... I can do that. I just have to write it, first, and I can't do that through tears and pain and devastation.I hope, beyond hope, that:I don't always know the right thing to do, but that I hope that I want to please him pleases him.
Man that's tough...it's so hard to be in a situation where injecting humor might be completely inappropriate. The only time I've spoken at a funeral was when my very old grandfather passed away after a long illness, and it was the type of funeral that begged for some jokes to be thrown into the mix. I just...yeah, that's just tough.
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I like Mrs. Landingham's funeral, when Bartlett gets pissed off after everyone else has left the church and starts yelling at God in latin, lights up a cigarette, stomps it and walks out.

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I hate Rick Reilly most of the time."On the afternoon of June 11, 6-year-old Bryson Moore wandered too far into the deep end of a pool at his cousin's birthday party in Americus, Ga. Soon he was sinking, face down. Anne began to scream, "Get him! Get him! He's drowning!" But she didn't know how to swim. Neither did anybody else standing around the pool. All they could do was watch Bryson go under. "Un-fucking-believable. This woman let her 6 year old, who can't swim, play around in a swimming pool without some kind of floating device, without anyone around to act as a lifeguard. Part of the article should be about how fucking stupid she is.
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Pretty sure, unless he was in the middle of an Olympic diving pool, you don't have to know how to swim to get in and out of any pool as an adult.Everyone there should be arrested for cowardice. ----Hey Wang, sent you a PM to your TB account. Not sure if you get notification when you get one or not.

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Pretty sure, unless he was in the middle of an Olympic diving pool, you don't have to know how to swim to get in and out of any pool as an adult.
If he was in the middle of the pool, someone who doesn't know how to swim could easily drown trying to save him. You'd be amazed at how many adults are terrified of the water because they can't swim. I'm not shocked that they weren't smart enough to think to form a human chain to reach him.
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Pretty sure, unless he was in the middle of an Olympic diving pool, you don't have to know how to swim to get in and out of any pool as an adult.
You're probably right about most recently constructed pools (especially above-ground ones) but when I was growing up the standard depth for the deep end of a pool was 6 feet, minimum, and most were 8.Doesn't mean that lady isn't a coward or retarded though. It's not like you can't push up off the bottom of an 8 foot pool and break the surface in order to breath. But that probably assumes you don't panic in the water (at the least) even if you can't swim.
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I just read it again and don't care if water scares them. It's pure cowardice. Any adult can jump in the center of a 9 ft deep pool and bounce their way up and down and be out of the pool in 20 seconds. Jump in, shove the kid towards the shallow end, then jump out.Or...heaven forbid, actually risk your own life to save a childs.

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yeah if you're child is drowning in the middle of a backyard pool, you learn to swim. right then. she was probably just afraid of getting her hair wet.

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