Category: Industrial

Cyrinda - Carnival Season - Waiting For No One (Vinyl, LP, Album)

Porcelain Boys Melted Shelter Sick Fifteen Marble Price Posted by spavid at PM 18 comments:. Time now for Wilfully Obscure's token "new romantic" entry for the year. Last April, the Canadian snyth-pop combo Tictoc was the lucky contestant, and wouldn't you know it, Those French Girls also hailed from north of the border, Stirling, Ontario from my understanding.

The band's self titled album was released by way of Attic Records, the same label that meddled with a couple other bands featured on these pages, namely the Numbers and Johnny and the G-Rays , but back to the subject at hand. They don't particularly overdo anything here, nor do they dress the part judging from the cover pic, but boy, the feigned Brit accents are about as heavy-handed as they come.

An even mix of keyboard and traditional instruments here, with "Corridor" being the album's most stimulating moment. TFG also appeared on a compilation tape with a couple non-LP cuts that you can check out here. Posted by spavid at PM 16 comments:. Saturday, June 20, milf - feasting on fried afterthoughts: part four: everybody should stop doing everything , Dizzy - recorded Supposedly limited to a mere 50 copies mine labeled 16 , everybody should stop doing everything, is sort of the holy grail for milf fans, not necessarily because of it's scarcity, rather that it handily collects the strongest of the trio's plethora of demos with reasonably good fidelity on get this, a CD.

Although I've already uploaded about half of the tracks here in my previous milf postings , they were extracted from cassettes. Listenable as the quality may have been, this CD is a significant sonic improvement.

Housing early versions of crucial, later-to-be album tracks like "Me," "Angst and Daisies," and the flabbergastingly genius "Model T," as well as the two tracks from their split with Tugboat Annie , amongst some entirely unreleased material, this is the one to grab if you're pondering where to start. BTW, Please read my previous milf posts for more info on their recordings, and links to a couple of insightful articles on the band.

This is the fourth and final installment of my milf afterthoughts series. Does anyone need me to upload their two albums, ha ha bus! Posted by spavid at PM 8 comments:. Here it is, the vintage, debut wax from perhaps the most maelstrom-friendly co-ed band to ever grace the face of the earth, Band of Susans.

Based in New York, the Susans opted out of the prevailing and often embarrassing trends of the era, and instead elected to pursue the amped-out six-string swath laid out by such across-the-pond acts as Killing Joke and Red Lorry Yellow Lorry. I believe my copy of the sleeve is the original, and in my opinion, less flattering incarnation.

Hope Against Hope You Were an Optimist Sometimes Chords and hooks to die for, that will have you begging not to be sent to heaven any time soon. A reunion show can be downloaded here. Would really love to see it happen, as neither of their releases have made it to CD yet. Look for the reissue this summer! So often I fail to look at your responses to this ever increasing accumulation of posts around or so at this counting , particularly ones that I posted say more than two months ago. Turns out that not too long after I shared Edsel's Everlasting Belt Co album early last year, that bassist Geoff Sanoff chimed in to the comments sections, I just got around to reading it today.

I simply can't keep on top of it all, which is why it may not be a bad idea for you dear browser to shoot me an email, especially if you are the artist in question! To cut to the chase Geoff, if you ever reissue any of the Edsel albums, Itunes or otherwise, just say the word and I'll be happy to delete the link and point your potential customers to the destination of your choosing.

Maybe we can find a way to monetize this for you somehow I won't ask for a dime. Thing is, I got such a good response to Everlasting One of the more intriguing earlys entries in the D. The aforementioned Everlasting Belt Co was their masterstroke, but Strange Loop didn't fall too far behind. Check out my initial Edsel post linked above for a slightly more involved breakdown and critique of their indigenous endeavors, but nutshell-wise, the trio at the time of this recording doled out lush, echoing chords atop a highly dexterous rhythm section, all wrapped up in a tight atmospheric gauze.

There's been no one like them before or since, and these days, that's saying a lot. Enjoy, and Geoff if you're reading this, please get in touch via the contact info in my profile. Gotta love that Obits 7" post from a couple months also I might add. Wooden Floors. I've been informed that Edsel are tentatively planning to reissue Strange Loop , so I've decided to delete the link.

Used copies are available on Amazon. Posted by spavid at PM 3 comments:. Stop the presses everyone! Sunday, June 14, Bitter Sons 7" , W. I think this is the third North Carolina related release I've shared this month so far. From the bio insert:.

Their first single this one shows their penchant for writing melodic, three minute, Big Star inflected rock songs propelled by over-amped guitars. In a town full of confused noise, this band's goal is to make good music. As if it was the intention of any other given band to make poor music. Anyway, this single is actually pretty gratifying. Though Bitter Sons' collective temperament is a bit sobering, it wouldn't really occur to me to stack them up to Big Star.

As per their bio, they largely steer clear of their town-mates renown brand of indie-thrash. Ok, so it looks like there was only half as many downloads of the second milf post, compared to the first. So why am I flooding the pool with even more? First off, I'm saving the best for last, and secondly this post concerns the existence of a recording that even assumed milf "completists" aren't aware of. Rock Salad was a cassette only release sold at some of the trio's final batch of gigs before parting ways.

This came out in either '95 or '96, I really can't pin an exact date on it. In other words, poor fidelity, and atrociously annoying tape hiss was a given even before the "record" button was even pressed. Rate This. Director: Marcelo Gomez. Added to Watchlist.

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Waiting for the Carnival Echo Again Once Again Documentary Comedy Drama. Landless Mr Worthy and Whammo. Ten Thousand Eyes. That Striped Sunlight Sound. Jim Santo's Demo Universe. Command Module: Self Titled, - A patchwork of brilliance and mere real-goodness! Everything Starts With an A Pop Fair. Naustin's 90's. Mr Worthy and Whammo. Ten Thousand Eyes. That Striped Sunlight Sound. Jim Santo's Demo Universe.

Command Module: Self Titled, - A patchwork of brilliance and mere real-goodness! Everything Starts With an A Pop Fair. Remote Outposts. Jazz Latin New Age. Aggressive Bittersweet Druggy. Energetic Happy Hypnotic. Romantic Sad Sentimental. Sexy Trippy All Moods. Drinking Hanging Out In Love.

Rainy Day Relaxation Road Trip. Romantic Evening Sex All Themes. Features Interviews Lists. Streams Videos All Posts. Celebratory Energetic Playful Sensual Stylish.

Jul 13,  · Check out Misguided Promise: Carnival Season Complete () by Carnival Season on Amazon Music. Stream ad-free or purchase CD's and MP3s now on xirobormamowecetinidemawal.coinfo Amazon Music Unlimited HD Prime Music CDs & Vinyl Download Store Open Web Player MP3 cart Settings Waiting For No One. Waiting For No One. Listen Now $ In MP3 cart.

Airy nothings woven into dreams - I: Wound - Sepia Sepoy (File)

And what the hell have they done it for? John said, 'Stay here! Thank God the vandals hadn't broken into this one drawer. He lifted up the copies of Reader's Digest and took out his. But John, trying to be firm, trying to stay in control, said, 'It's okay; I'm not going to do anything stupid. Call the cops. Go on, call the cops! I'll go check on Lenny. It's Daddy! The house was silent, except for the faint sound of traffic outside, and Jennifer's voice as she talked in a quick, frantic tone to the Philadelphia Police Department.

As he approached Lenny's room, John saw to his consternation that there were more deep scratches along the wall, similar to the first scratches he'd seen when he had come home.

That could only mean that the burglars had been here before he got home - and that all the time he and Jennifer had been laughing and reading and drinking martinis and eating supper, those maniacs had been tearing their precious bedroom to shreds. He reached Lenny's door and eased it open, keeping the revolver pointed at the ceiling.

He didn't want any accidents, not with Lenny, his last living connection with Virginia. He remembered what somebody in Miami Vice had said about making your-self a target, so he stepped quickly into the room and dodged to one side to avoid being silhouetted against the light in the corridor. He paused, feeling chilled and frightened, breathing in the greasy smell of the revolver. To his relief, Lenny lay where he had left him, still fast asleep, his mouth still open.

John leaned forward to make doubly certain that he was breathing; then he crouched and moved away from the bed making a quick inspection of the rest of the room. He checked behind the door, and almost fired when Lenny's white bathrobe came swinging out at him.

He eased open the closet. He crouched down on his hands and knees so that he could look underneath the bed. He cautiously parted the curtains with the barrel of his gun. There was nobody there. It looked as if the intruders had ventured partway down the corridor, tearing at the walls, but they seem to have stopped short of Lenny's room. John tested Lenny's window. Only the small top window was open; the main window was still closed and locked. He looked down into the brick-paved yard.

There was a small patio with a fountain and white garden furniture, and an arrangement of seven well-cultivated bay trees in earthenware pots. No sign that anybody was hiding down there. He eased down the hammer of the. He tried the attic door: it was locked, and the key was still hanging on the hook beside it. John called out, 'It's okay, Jen! Lenny's still asleep -and they're gone, whoever they were! She ran a trembling hand through her hair, and tried to smile.

They're sending somebody around. I can't even guess. John began to gather up pieces of broken china and picture frames, while Jennifer sorted through the jewelry and the perfume bottles and cosmetics. Half a dozen bottles of nail varnish had been smashed open, and the white shag carpet was sticky with glutinous scarlets and sticky pinks.

John was so dispirited that he gave up collecting the smashed pieces, and dropped them back onto the floor. But Jennifer slowly stood up, her hands full of rings and necklaces and brooches, and she was frowning in surprise. They haven't taken a single thing - not one. How about that ring I gave you after the Philly Pops concert? It's got nail polish on it, but that'll clean off. Underneath it he discovered his gold cuff links, his gold bracelet, and the gold Julius Caesar medallion that Virginia had given him in , when medallions for men had still been fashionable.

This doesn't make any kind of sense at all, said John, picking up the medallion and staring at it as it spun around on the end of its chain.

Her eyes glistened with tears. But if it was drug addicts, why didn't they take anything? Maybe they frightened themselves with their own noise. They've broken everything absolutely everything. How long do you think it took them to do that? Look at it - every dress, every coat, every picture, everything. And those nail-varnish bottles! Six of them,. You know how damned hard it is to break one of those. If they had rime to do that, they had time to steal anything they wanted.

John went to the window and saw a patrol car and an unmarked car with a flashing red beacon on the roof draw up outside. Jennifer went out to the landing. She heard John open the front door; heard deep men's voices; heard somebody cough. As she stood there, Lenny came shuffling along the corridor, hot-cheeked and dandelion-headed, in his Gobot pajamas.

I heard police cars. Your Daddy and I frightened them away. They've just made a mess, that's all. But we have insurance. We'll just have to go out and buy ourselves a couple of new pillows and a new comforter. My mouth feels awful dry. John came up the stairs, followed by two detectives and two uniformed police officers. The detectives were both pale-skinned blacks, remarkably alike, and when they reached the landing Jennifer saw to her surprise that they were twins.

One of the officers accompanying them was white, the other black. Jennifer couldn't help thinking that she didn't know when she'd seen such a racially balanced group before. They were like a road show for Mendel's theory of genetics. One of the detectives came forward, his hands in his coat pockets, and said to Jennifer, 'Sergeant Clay, ma'am. And this is Detective Clay.

They both wore shiny metallic mohair suits and black loafers. The only noticeable difference between them was that Sergeant Clay had one brown eye and one gray one; while Detective Clay's eyes were both brown. His twin followed him inside. The two uniformed officers waited on the landing, one of them assiduously penciling notes in his notebook, the other yawning.

They just broke the place up. His nostrils flared slightly, as if he were trying to distinguish some faint and equivocal odour. They broke everything,' put in Jennifer. Eventually he said, 'How do you think they got in? I said, "How do you think they got in? I really have no idea. The garden door has been locked all day, and nobody could have come in that way this evening without us seeing them. All of the downstairs windows have security bars and locks. And apart from the fanlights in this room and Lenny's bedroom down at the end of the corridor and the John across the landing, all of the upstairs windows are closed and locked.

I haven't checked every room downstairs, and I haven't checked the cellar, but as soon as we heard the noise we came running straight up here, and I really don't see how Sergeant Clay leaned sideways, his hands still in his pockets, so that he could see out the bedroom door. Sergeant Clay said, 'Officer Sabido, would you be good enough to go down to my car and bring me my Polos?

They're little round mints like Life Savers. I have a friend who brings them across from England. You can stick the tip of your tongue through the hole in the middle, and apart from the fact that I was called away from a double-hot chilli to go and I'm going to be breathing it at you every time I ask you a question, they help me to think. At that moment, Detective Clay began to sniff even more deeply, holding his breath for long, quivering moments and then exhaling.

Sergeant Clay laid a hand on his twin's shoulder and said, 'He's very sensitive to different smells, you know what I mean? He can tell you what brand of cigarette you smoke just by sniffing your hair. He can tell what spices you've been eating, anything from bell peppers to fenugreek, and everything in between. He can tell if you've recently been close to animals, and what kind. He can smell something now. He hesitated for a moment, still breathing deeply, then suddenly whipped it off the bed.

On the sheet underneath, a huge wet stain was spreading, smelling faintly acrid and tinged with yellow at the edges. For some of these sickos, breaking into somebody's bedroom is pretty much like rape onceremoved.

You're lucky they didn't do anything worse. Shame - almost as if this disgusting desecration were her doing. John held her close. We'll get rid of it and start fresh. New bed, new sheets, new carpet. It meant so much. Detective Clay kept his eyes closed and didn't answer, but raised his hand to indicate that he was still concentrating. Unusual foods? Still Detective Clay kept on sniffing. Or both? It's something to do with the proteins in the urine. Sergeant Clay blinked, frowned, and said, 'Are you sure?

Sergeant Clay shook his head. Never known him to make a mistake. But whoever did it must've had a bladder that was five times the usual capacity, and whoever did it wasn't human. Whoever did this genuinely wasn't human. Behind him, his twin frowned, too. Then what? Chapter Two With grim persistence, John and Jennifer spent the whole of the following morning clearing out the bedroom and bundling up everything into plastic trash bags - sheets, clothes, shoes, drapes, broken pictures, everything.

Together they rolled up the mattress, tied it with webbing straps, and carried it into the yard. It stunk even more strongly than it had yesterday evening - a kind of thick, sweet, skunky odor, with a rustymetallic undertone. As soon as they had propped it up next to the garage door, ready to be driven to the city dump, Jennifer stepped back well away from it and took a deep breath of fresh air.

Jennifer said, 'It's disgusting. I wonder what on earth it was? He didn't think it was any kind of creature known to man. They both were. There's no other explanation, is there?

The way that other one was sniffing like that. They were both as high as kites. They didn't seem like they were high to me. I thought they were very rational. That's not rational at all. But on the other hand, what happened wasn't very rational, either, was it?

Whoever or whatever it was, how did it manage to break into the house completely unnoticed, tear the whole bedroom to pieces, and get away without anybody seeing him? Or it? All the door were locked. But I checked the back door myself last night and it was still locked, from the inside. That's hardly likely. He was probably an expert locksmith. The Amityville Horror? It was a crisp but sunny day; a purple martin fluttered onto one of their bay trees and bounced up and down on a branch, watching them inquisitively, John wiped his hands on his jeans, then said.

Although the yard was completely secluded, they could hear the bustle of Philadelphia all around them: the rushing of traffic up and down Front Street, the scratching of jets taking off from Philadelphia International Airport, the thrumming of feet on the sidewalks of Market Street, the distant racketing of air-hammers and pile drivers around Center City.

Jennifer said, "The only thing that really frightens me is that he might come back. I've thought about that. I've asked a security company to come over tomorrow and install a proper alarm system. They may recommend that we put bars on the windows, too. Jack Pelling goes on vacation this afternoon; he said that we could borrow his house for as long as we want. Did you see Lenny this morning? He looked like he hadn't slept in a week. John shook his head. But he didn't say a word when I took him to school this morning.

He just sat in the car and stared out the window. We'll have to make sure that he goes to bed early tonight. Then maybe we'll go to Gimbel's and pick some new wallpaper.

What's wrong with the rug? When we were first going out together, we did it in the office stockroom, for God's sake.

He leaned over to kiss her in return, but at that moment the front doorbell rang. John grunted in amusement, and leaned back against the wall, finishing off his wine. Two or three minutes went by without Jennifer reappearing, and eventually John went to see what was going on. Standing in the front hall was Mrs. Scuyler, Lenny's teacher from school; and there, too, was Lenny, pale and quiet, and looking more like his dead mother than ever.

Scuyler's brought Lenny home. It seems he hasn't been feeling too good. Have you been sick or anything? She was a fussy, motherly woman with wild gingery hair that refused to behave itself. This morning she was wearing a vivid green tent-dress that made her look even more gingery than usual. Dreyfus said he was very quiet in gym practice, and when I took him for math he started to cry, didn't.

But his eldest and favourite Sister was admitted to his confidence. The little girl who had wandered with the dreaming boy through the ruins of Hohenstaufen , and amidst the pines of Lorch , was become a woman , capable of sympathising with the lofty hopes of the adventurous man ; and at last, a day or two before the meditated departure, the truth was broken to Schiller's mother.

With his friend Streicher, and the wife of the Stage Manager at Mannheim , Madame Meier whom, as well as the Director Dalberg , the royal festivities had drawn to Stuttgard , but from whom the secret was carefully kept , Schil- ler for the last time visited his family at '' Solitude.

After an hour's absence , he returoed — alone. The afTectionate gaze of Streicher saw what he had suf- fered in that parting interview, by the redness ofhiseyes.

The important day was now fixed — the 17th of September. A favourite Ode liad given unseasonable Inspiration to his own muse, and the im- patient musician was forced to wait and hear, not only the seduc- tive Ode, but the poem it had called forth. At tea o'clock, the vehicle which contained the adventurers rolled from Streicher's lodging to the Esslingen Gate , he darkest of all the City Gates , at which the Lieutenant of the Watch was a firm friendofthePoet's.

Ritler and Dr. Wolf, both bound to Esslingen. In the clear air , all was so distinctly outlined, that the poet could point out to his companion bis parent's home : and a suppressed sigh — a soft "O meine Mut- ter," escaped bim! The travellers reached Mannheim in safety. They unpacked their boxes, and put on their best clothes; it was a boliday — they were out of the Grand Duke's dominions — they were free I -Schiller's hope was in his " Fiesco.

Dalberg was at Stuttgard; bat Meier, the manager, received them with kindness. WheQ he heard, with astonishment, the bold step Schiller had taken , he urged the expediency of an immediate letter to the Grand Duke. This, indeed , Schiller had already resolved upon. He represented how impossible he found it to live upon bis professio- nal gains as a surgeon ; — bis income could only be made soffi- cient by bis literary labours. He prayed for permission to try bis fortune for a short time out of the Dukc's dominions, and de- clared bis willingness ultimately to return on receiving his So- vereign's pardon.

The next day Madame Meier returned from Stuttgard, with the news that Schiller's flight was already notorious; and that it was expected that the Grand Duke would demand the de- livery of his person.

As Schiller, however, was not a soldier, be could not be treated and reclaimed as a deserter; still it was deemed advisable that be should not show himself tili the Grand Duke's answer was received. Schiller hastened to replyto the General , that be could not regard the Grand Duke's message as a compliance with his request, which he again respectfally urged.

A second letter from the General only laconically repeated the purport of the former one. Schiller's pride, his spiritof in- dependence, and his honour became engaged. The youog poet commenced his reading, — all d in silence , — not a word of approbation. At the end of Bt act some slipped avay; at the end of the second , thedis- itment grew more unequivocal ; and a quarter of an hour irds, the poet had lost all his listeners except IflOiand.

Warned by letters from Stuttgard, resohed to pass to Darmstadt , near Frankfort. The money jonng friends was nearly gone. Sorely pressed as he was, sr had so tender a consideration for his parents, that he not apply to them , lest he might bring upon his father the Ion of conniviDg at his flight.

With enough barely to de- le expenses of their pilgrimage on foot, the two friends set e day at noon; rested at night in a village; resumed their le next morning over one of the most striking roads in Eu- the Bergstrasse ; continued their journey for twelve hours ; from six in the evening tili midnight, when they were ed by the drums of a reveille. The young man, struggling with his destlny , may take heart for the future when. My safety obliged me to withdraw in haste from Stnttgard.

My sole hopes rested on a removal to Mannheim; there, I tnistcd, by your Excellency's assistance , that my new drama might enable me to clear myself from debt, and better permanently my condition. This was fnis- trated through the hasty departure to which I was compelled. I might blush to make such disclosures to you , bnt I know they do not debase me. If my former condnct — if all that your Excel- lency knows of my character — can induce confidence in my ho- nour, let me frankly ask your assistancc.

My heart was oppressed — my poetic dreams fled before the scnse of my condition. But if at the time specified the play conld be ready, and, Itrust, worthy, — from that belief I take the courage to ask the advance of what woold then be due. I need it, perhaps, more now than Imayeverdo hereafler. I owed nearly florins when I left Stuttgard. This gives me, I own , more uneasiness than all the care for my fdtore fate. I shall haye no rest tili in that quarter I am free.

No disappointment could be more cruel. Bot Schiller bore it nndauntedly. He prepared only to comply with the condition that was imposed. The friends were reduced to a few small coins, when Streicher received thirty florins, for which he had written to his mother; and with this aid they leffc Frankfort.

Finally, it was settled that Schiller should take up his residence in an inn at Oggersheim , once more changiog his name from Rit- ter to Schmidt; and here, still accompanied by the devoted Streicher, he shut himself up to compose hisglorious taskwork. And Streicher, whomwe love DO less for bis self-devolion thaa Schiller for bis indomitable coorage , soothed the labours of bis friend with the notes of bis clavier. Again their resources were exhausted ; again poor Strei- cher applied to bis motber for the mooey intended for bis profes- sional journey to Hamburgb.

Necessity theo tore Schiller firom the new work, and restored bim to the old. But fresh disappointments awaited Schiller. Nothing could be more chilling, more laconic, more heartless, to all appearance, than the reply of this literary courtier. Schiller had been greatly instigated in bis flight from Stuttgard , by bis reliance on Dalberg's professions of esteem and friendship.

And now not a word to comfort, much less a florin to Support. Before the laborious Student rose the sense of a con- dition thoroughly desolate and alarming — the recollection of bis debts at Stuttgard; more than all , the remorse of having implica- ted bis faitbful friend in bis own ruio.

It is evident that Dalberg, with that sympathy which all courtiers haye for the grievances of all Courts , regarded Schiller as a political offender , and feared to befriend one Tvith whom a Prince was displeased.

At the Stuttgard Academy, three yonng men of good birth, namedvonWolzogen, had been educatedcontemporaneouslywith Schiller. The eldest of these, Wilhelm, was afterwards amongst bismost intimate friends; their motber, a widow, in straitened circumstances, had known and admired the Poet at Stuttgard; she ofTered bim an asylnm in a small house she possessed at Bauerbach, abont two miles from Meiningen. Thither, then, Schiller resoWed to fly.

In a wioter's night — the snow decp upon the ground — the gene- rous Streicher bade him farewell ; or rather, no word was spoken, HO embrace exchanged — a long and silent clasp of the band was the only token of an affection which had endured so much hard- ship, and consoled through so much sorrow.

Residence at Bauerbach. He remained unknown and secure ; a book- seller ofeminenceat Meiningen Reinwald, who afterwards mar- ried bis Sister, was admitted to bis secret, and cheered bis soli- tude witk books, and bis own society. Sometimes he made a companion of the Steward of the property, played at chess, or wandered , with him , through the wild woods that Surround that country. XLII beDeficial to his mind and to his laboun. The two plays were completedy and despatched to the bookseller, Schwan.

Batnow, his ardent Imagination, ha? Hepassed, though for a short time , andwithrelae- tance, into that State common to all good men, in proportioa to their original affection for their species — misanthropy, No man ever was, in reality, amisanthrope, but from too high an opinion of mankind, and too keen a perception of ideal Yirtne.

His prospects were, in reality, such asmight render the hardest sensitive , and theboldestanxious. Thepre- sent might be safe, but at any moment he might be cast again upon the world.

His gratitude to his friends made him feel that his asylum must be resigned the moment the Grand Duke discover- ed it. And, even as it was , could his spirit long bear the thought of dependence , obscurity, anddisguise?

Still, he was without a country, still without a career. He seriously thought of aban- doning poetry, and retnrning to the medical profession; some- times the wilder notion of eiile to England — to America — pos- sessed him. This State of mind was, perhaps, fortunately in- Yaded by a romantic and hopeless fancy, rather than the love for whieh he mistook it.

Madame von Wolzogen visited Bauerbach. He could not expect en- couragement from the mother, nor does it appear that his attach- ment was returned by Charlotte : but he was at that age when feeling is easily awakened , and as easiiy misunderstood by the heart which feels it.

Scieace ofLite, " — Bjbeim. Heft 1, S. Certainly this was the most critical period in the life of SchiUer, moral and intellectual. None of the earlier wrilings of Byron can be compared for a moment, in their offences against settled opinions, to those which the youth of Schiller sent forth, to agitate society and inflame the mind.

The revolutlonary stamp is upon each. To ordinary observers, they might well appear the more dangerous, from the systematic pnrpose whieh seemed to pervade them all. In England, sach works wonld have given impunity to the slander of literary envy, and the bigotry of political hate.

Bat there was a nobler temper in the German pablic; — there was given to Schiller what, despite the greater temptalions of birth , and beauty and fortane , was never conceded to oar immortal coantryrnan — the allowance for Dnsettled youth and imperfect edncation ; — and the result should be a lesson to tbe public in all lands : His manhood was the splen- did redeemer of his youth.

He inyited Schiller to Mannheim. The young Poet's plays were to be produced upon the stage — the ob- ject of an ambition, modest as to temporal means, vast as to in-. He was appointed, with a fixed, though Yery limited salary, Poet to the Theatre at Mannheim, then the first in Germany. On the evening of the 22d July, , he arrived at the town in which the foundations of his dramatic glory had been laid ; and, at the house of Meier he was once more beheld; but, this time, with a chcerful and radiant countenance — by his faithful Streicher.

Residonce at Mannheim. He was not like many of our young authors who write for the stage , and will not sacrifice a passage to what they call the arrogant ignorance of managers and actors. Unless the Poet obtains and follows the advice of manager and actor, he may depend upon it that he will never command an andience.

But, in nothing is Schil- , 1er more an example to us than in his iron perseverance and dili- geat industry. Per- XLV haps they are so of all genius that accomplishes what is great and lasting. Through weakness and through sickness he toiled on. Schiller complained that the public of the Palatino could not understand it ; that ' with them Republican Liberty was an empty sound. But, in Berlin and Frankfort, it produced a considerable Sensation , which reacted on the Mann- heim audiences, and soon secured its fame.

On the first representation of this drama Streicher found bis reward for all his friendship. He had found a country, as well as confirmed his fame. He was acknowledged a subject of the Elector Palatine. He was elected a member of the German Literary Society established at Mannheim. The circle of his intimates was thus enlarged amongst men of the same pur- suits, and his ambition.

New resources were opened to bim ; and his ambition could not readily settle upon any one of the nume- rous objecto by which it was allured. He proposed at first to trans- late "Timon of Athens," and "Macbeth," but ultimately returned to "Bon Carlos.

A marked change, indeed, was now visible in his modes of thought. XLTI daties of the Poet. He laid down to others and to him- seif the principle , that the Stage shonld take its rank vith the Church and the School amongst the primary institntions of a State.

Iq Proportion as representation must be more ririd than dead book-lore and cold narration, so assuredly might he think that the stage shonld work deeper lessons and more lasling, than mere moralising Systems. Bat that yery exaggeration could only serve to pnrifj bis ambition and elevate bis aims. Bleanwhile , bis pecuniary clrcumstances , thongh improved, and though, perhaps sufBcieot for a strict economist, were not adequate to thewants of a man so liberal, so charitable, aodso eareless of detail and method.

Wrapt in bis Ideal reakn, he forgot the exigencies of Practical life. He re- solved upon new efforls to emancipate himself from all difBcnlties. XLVII eonfidant. To the Public alone henceforth I belong. Before this tribuDal , and this tribunal onJy y i take my stand. Samething of greatness hoyers over me as I resolve to know no restraint bat the sentence of the world— appeal to no throne bnt the soal of Man!

And the reader will rcadily anderstand how mach, asinthe case of Byron, the admiration for the Poet became as- Bodated with interest in the Man. Bat in the midst of his laboars and bis Increasing fame, bis heart was lonely. He pined for lovc and for female society. In the bastle of the town he recalled with a sigh the retirement of Bauerbach. For- getfol of the gloom which had , there , so oflen overshadowed his solilade , he looked self-deludingly back to the winter manths ho had spent amidst its gloomy pines , as amongst the happiest of his life.

The Image of Charlotte von Wolzogen haunted him ; but it was rather as the ideal Egeria of the Nympholept than as the one liviog woman who renders all others charmless and indifferent.

Margaret,- the daughter of Schwan the bookseller, was one in whom he might woo an equal , and reasonably hope to find a re- tnrn for his affection. But new circumstances began to coo-. The honour in which literary men were held in the courtof Weimar inflamed his Imagination. He had not yet en- tirely resigned the practical world for the ideal ; and in Schiller, despite his want of economy and method , there were talents and capacities which were not restricted solely to the pen.

The object of this passing fancy has ap- parently baffled the research of bis biograpbers. At a later period, Goethe expressed the same opinion. XLIX The nnk of CouDeillor to the Duchy of Weimar thus opeoed to him a palh more alluritig than that in which he passed , not over the flowers his youth had fancied, as Poet to a Theatre.

Some honoorable appointment at the least in one of the smali Saxon Courts. The friends grew warm over their hopes, and agreed atlast to suspend all correspondence tili the Poet was Mi- nister, and the Musician Chapel Master! He was only in his twenty-sixth year — and how mach had he effacted! His name was already a household word in.

Hisgenius had not been stationary; the most mtfked fanproTement in taste, in thought, in self-cultivatioa distiagoished his more recent from his earlier compositions. ETeatithistime, the genial and gentle Wieland had prophesied that Friedrioh Schiller would he the first man of his age.

All the men are drawn on the large scale of Heroes. In these plays, the influences which we have noticed in our brief Sketch of the State of German Literature are visible. But in this , as in the several periods of his life , the mirror of bis heart and his genius is to be found in his minor poems. In their fervour and exaggeration — their beauties and defeets -— lives immortally the youth of Schiller.

His name vas soon bruited abroad , and the throng pressed to see hlin. Bat though Schiller was not without that noble vanity which pants for applause ,' and takes enjoyment in renown , the curiosity of idiers could only offend his taste , and wound his pride. They expected at least a crop , the boots of a postilion , and a hnnting-whip! If we'd ever had any other photos, they'd been either lost or left behind during our many moves. However, I thought that even in this simple old photograph with its black and white fading into sepia and its edges fraying, Momma looked so pretty that it was easy to see why Daddy had lost his heart to her so quickly even though she was only fifteen at the time.

She was barefoot in the picture, and I thought she looked fresh and innocent and as lovely as anything else nature had to offer. Momma and Jimmy had the same shimmering black hair and dark eyes. They both had bronze complexions with beautiful white teeth that allowed them ivory smiles. Daddy had dark brown hair, but mine was blond. And I had freckles over the tops of my cheeks.

No one else in my family had freckles. Poor Jimmy, I thought. Momma said he was born all crunched up as tightly as a fist, his eyes sewn shut. She said she gave birth to Jimmy on a farm in Maryland. They had just arrived there and gone knocking on the door, hoping to find some work, when her labor began.

They told me I had been born on the road, too. They had hoped to have me born in a hospital, but they were forced to leave one town and start out for another where Daddy had already secured new employment.

They left late in the afternoon one day and traveled all that day and that night. I remember how the birds were singing. That's why you sing so pretty," Momma said. The worst thing was to have a mouse or a rat in the house when a woman was pregnant. Momma had inherited so much wisdom. It made me wonder and wonder about our family, a family we had never seen. I wanted to know so much more, but it was difficult to get Momma and Daddy to talk about their early lives. I suppose that was because so much of it was painful and hard.

We knew they were both brought up on small farms in Georgia, where their people eked out poor livings from small patches of land. They had both come from big families that lived in rundown farmhouses. There just wasn't any room in either household for a newly married, very young couple with a pregnant wife, so they began what would be our family's history of traveling, traveling that had not yet ended. We were on our way again.

Momma and I filled a carton with those kitchen-wares she wanted to take along and then gave it to Daddy to load in the car. When she was finished, she put her arm around my shoulders, and we both took one last look at the humble little kitchen. Jimmy was standing in the doorway, watching. His eyes turned from pools of sadness to coal-black pools of anger when Daddy came in to hurry us along.

Jimmy blamed him for our gypsy life. I wondered sometimes if maybe he wasn't right. Often Daddy seemed different from other men—more fidgety, more nervous. I would never say it, but I hated it whenever he stopped off at a bar on his way home front work. He would usually come home in a sulk and stand by the windows watching as if he were expecting something terrible. None of us could talk to him when he was in one of those moods. He was like that now. For a moment I was stunned. Why had Daddy given me such a cold look?

It was almost as if he blamed me for our having to leave. As soon as the thought entered my mind, I chased it away. I was being silly! Daddy would never blame me for anything. He loved me. He was just mad because Momma and I were being so slow and dawdling, instead of hurrying out the door.

As if reading my mind, Momma suddenly spoke. Momma and I started for the door, for we had all learned from hard experience that Daddy was unpredictable when his voice turned so tight with anger.

Neither one of us wanted to invoke his wrath. We turned back once and then closed the door behind us, just like we had closed dozens of doors before. There were few stars out. I didn't like nights without stars. On those nights shadows seemed so much darker and longer to me. Tonight was one of those nights—cold, dark, all the windows in houses around us black.

The wind carried a piece of paper through the street, and off in the distance a dog howled. Then I heard a siren. Somewhere in the night someone was in trouble, I thought, some poor person was being carried off to the hospital, or maybe the police were chasing a criminal.

Jimmy and I squeezed ourselves into the backseat with our cartons and suitcases. We had been every-where in Virginia, it seemed, but Richmond. Your daddy's got a job in a garage there, and I'm sure I can land me a chambermaid job in one of the motels. Big cities still frightened both of us. As we drove away from Granville and the darkness fell around us, our sleepiness returned. Jimmy and I closed our eyes and fell asleep against each other as we had done so many times before. Daddy had been planning our new move for a little while because he had already found us a place to live.

Daddy often did things quietly and then announced them to us. Because the rents in the city were so much higher, we could afford only a one-bedroom apartment, so Jimmy and I still had to share a room. And the sofa bed! It was barely big enough for the two of us. I knew that sometimes he awoke before me but didn't move because my arm was on him and he didn't want to wake me and embarrass me about it. And there were those times he touched me accidentally where he wasn't supposed to.

The blood would rush to his face, and he would leap off the bed as if it had started to burn. He wouldn't say anything to acknowledge he had touched me, and I wouldn't mention it.

It was usually like that. Jimmy and I simply ignored things that would embarrass other teenage boys and girls forced to live in such close quarters, but I couldn't help sitting by and dreaming longingly for the same wonderful privacy most of my girlfriends enjoyed, especially when they described how they could close their doors and gossip on their own phones or write love notes without anyone in their families knowing a thing about it.

I was even afraid to keep a diary because everyone would be looking over my shoulder. This apartment differed little from most of our previous homes—the same small rooms, peeling wallpaper, and chipped paint. The same windows that didn't close well. Jimmy hated our apartment so much that he said he would rather sleep in the street.

But just when we thought things were as bad as they could be, they got worse. Late one afternoon months after we had moved to Richmond, Momma came home from work much earlier than usual. I had been hoping she would bring something else for us to have for dinner. We were at the tail end of the week, Daddy's payday, and most of our money from the previous week was gone. We had been able to have one or two good meals during the week, but now we were eating leftovers.

My stomach was rumbling just as much as Jimmy's was, but before either of us could complain, the door opened and we both turned, surprised to see Momma come in. She stopped, shook her head, and started to cry. Then she hurried across the room to her bedroom. What's wrong? Jimmy looked at me and I at him, both of us frightened. I went to her door and knocked softly. She was facedown on the bed, her shoulders shaking. We entered slowly, Jimmy right beside me.

I sat down on the bed and put my hand on her shoulder. Tell us," I begged. She sniffed and pushed back her hair and took each of our hands into hers. My pounding heart paused. Jimmy's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. I just ignored and ignored the signs. I never thought I was pregnant, because I didn't have no more children after Dawn, I finally went to a doctor today and found out I was a little more n' four months pregnant. Suddenly I'm gonna have a child, and now I won't be able to work, too," she said and began to cry again.

How could we manage it? We didn't have enough as it was. I looked to Jimmy to urge him to say something comforting, but he looked stunned and angry.

He just stood there, staring. She took a deep breath. He was so sullen, I wanted to kick him. Finally he shook his head. It's not your fault. I need one right now.

He gave her a quick hug, mumbled something about having to get something outside, and then hurried out. What do we have to eat? I was going to try to pick up something tonight, see if we could charge any more on our grocery bill, but with this pregnancy and all, I clean forgot about eating. She shook her head.

I can see it in his eyes. He's got Ormand's temper. I'll see about dinner," I repeated and went out and closed the door softly behind me, my fingers trembling on the knob. A baby, a little brother or sister! Where would a baby sleep? How could Momma take care of a baby? If she couldn't work, we would have even less money. Didn't grown-ups plan these things?

How could they let it happen? I went outside to look for Jimmy and found him throwing a rubber ball against the wall in the alley. It was mid-April, so the chill was out of the air, even in the early evening.

I could just make out some stars starting their entrance onto the sky. The neon lights above the doorway of Frankie's Bar and Grill at the corner had been turned on.

Sometimes, on his way home on a hot day, Daddy would stop in there for a cold beer. When the door was opened and closed, the laughter and the music from the jukebox spilled out and then died quickly on the sidewalk, a sidewalk always dirtied with papers and candy wrappers and other refuse that the wind lifted out of overflowing garbage cans. I could hear two cats in heat threaten each other in an alleyway. A man was shouting curses up at another man, who leaned out a two-story window about a block south of us.

The man in the window just laughed down at him. I turned to Jimmy. He was as tight as a fist again, and he was heaving all his anger with each and every throw of the ball. He seized the ball in the air and turned on me. One thing we definitely don't need right now is another child in the house.

Look at what we're eating for dinner tonight! His words were like cold rain falling on a warm campfire. And babies need all sorts of lotions and creams, don't they? He's off whistlin' and jawin' with those friends of his who hang around the garage, just as if he's on top of the world, and now here's this," he said, gesturing toward our building. Why hadn't Daddy thought of that? I wondered. I had heard of girls going all the way and becoming pregnant, but that was because they were just girls and didn't know better.

A woman doesn't wake up one morning and find out she's pregnant. I don't know all the details," he said quickly, but I knew he did.

He spoke in a voice just above a whisper and gave me a fearful chill. My heart pounded in anticipation. Most of the time when trouble came raining down over us, Daddy would decide we had to pack up and run, but we couldn't run from this. Because I always cooked dinner, I knew better than anyone that we didn't have anything to spare for a baby. Not a cent, not a crumb. When Daddy arrived home from work that night, he looked a lot more tired than usual and his hands and arms were all greasy.

Daddy hurried into the bedroom. I busied myself with the dinner, but my heart started to pound so hard I could barely breathe. Jimmy went to the window that looked out on the north side of the street and stood staring as still as a statue. We heard Momma crying again. After a while it grew quiet and then Daddy emerged.

Jimmy pivoted expectantly. His face began to take on that mad look, his lips curling in at the corners, some whiteness of his teeth flashing through. He ran his fingers through his hair and sucked in some breath. Jimmy flopped down in a kitchen chair. Daddy's face flared. I couldn't believe he had said it. He knew Daddy's temper, but I recalled what Momma said: Jimmy had the same temper. Sometimes they were like two bulls with a red flag between them.

Jimmy nodded in agreement and sat back, staring glumly at his plate. You should go look for him, Jimmy. I don't think so, Momma. He don't like it when I do that. Let's just eat and wait for him to come back. There was still no indication that it was even possible. What did the giant mean, the pieces are almost in place?

What was the final offering? And his threat— tell Percy Jackson —it reminded me of something Luke had said to me when he'd sought me out last week: 'Percy Jackson keeps ruining his plans, but he won't stop until he gets what he wants.

Did you never wonder how Annabeth found out how she was 'born'? Somehow I don't think Frederick told her …. Sorry this post is late! I went on holiday Friday evening and tried to put this up before, but Ao3 had down time in the exact same two hours I had free Friday afternoon The door to his office in the Big House was slightly ajar, with voices wafting out into the hallway. I stopped outside it, my hand poised to knock, when I realised the voice coming from inside wasn't Chiron's.

Then Chiron replied, 'I understand. That's fine. We'll expect you next Saturday. Will your mother be driving you, or will you need help getting here?

The context of their words sank in. It was an Iris-message. And not only was Percy still at home, he was also going to arrive at camp late. Because of school. Disappointment pooled in the pit of my stomach, followed by a seething pinch of annoyance.

Percy didn't even like school. Yet here he was, letting it get in the way. Didn't he understand how important it was for him to be here? I twisted the beads of my necklace in my fingers. Had Percy finally realised how dangerous this summer would be? He'd always wished he could be a normal kid. It was why he wouldn't stay year-round at camp the way Chiron wanted him to.

But Percy was as un -normal as a demigod could get. His dad was Poseidon, one of the Big Three gods who had broken a sacred, Styx-sworn oath when he sired Percy. Percy's parentage placed him directly in the path of a seventy-year-old prophecy, one that gave me the shivers every time I thought of it. I wouldn't blame him for trying to avoid the prophecy, even if he still didn't know its full, gory details.

But that wasn't like Percy. He'd told me last winter he wanted to claim the prophecy. If a Big Three kid had to shoulder the responsibility of saving or destroying Olympus, Percy would step up. He wouldn't let Nico di Angelo draw the wrath of Kronos and risk being killed.

He wouldn't let anyone else take the fall. It made me both burst with pride and sick with fear. Percy had that way about him. Being his friend was like walking a perpetual tightrope between conflicting emotions.

Most of the time, the positive ones won. He'd never run away. He was just coming a bit late. Percy wouldn't abandon me—abandon camp. He was a centaur, but he often disguised himself as a wheelchair-user in order to pass among mortals—or fit in smaller spaces. I nodded. And Woodrow just brought in two new campers.

Chiron tidied the pens and papers on his desk, although they were already quite neat to begin with. He stared into the prism sitting at the centre of his desk. Chiron's lips quirked, like he knew exactly why I was asking. He called to inform me he would be delayed.

He is attending orientation at his new high school. It must not have been easy for his mother to find him a place for next year; Percy has had much trouble with schools in the past. I felt a twinge of guilt, thinking of the trouble Janet had gone to on behalf of my schooling—which I'd rejected. This was different, though. Percy was missing a week of camp. I'd have had to miss the entire summer if I'd agreed to the pre-sessional programme at design school.

You're … letting me leave camp? Traditionally, that permission was only ever granted if a quest was issued. It will be good for you to take some time off. Chiron patted my shoulder. This summer—well, your news confirms what I have feared for some time. Before this camp session ends, we will face a difficult battle. We must be ready. Burnt out soldiers make bad armies. And we will have much work to do this week. We gathered in the sword-fighting arena: all the head counsellors, a few senior satyrs, Chiron, and a bearded man with grey hair whom I didn't know.

It was just like any other start-of-session meeting, when Chiron usually gave out cabin duties and training assignments. I suspected this year's duties were going to be a lot more serious. In light of the severity of our situation, I expected Mr D to be here. But the only adults were Chiron and the newcomer, who leant casually against a stack of bear-sized crates, polishing one of the training swords.

One of them rattled like whatever was inside wanted out. The newcomer rapped on the top with his knuckles and the creature inside settled down. I took a seat next to Grover on one of the burlap sacks we used for lifting practice. He'd earned his searcher's license and the right to be at council meetings two summers ago. Right now, he wasn't looking too pleased. He barely looked at me, instead picking dejectedly at a can of tin shavings typically his favourite snack, only he seemed too depressed to eat.

Anyone else would have given up after two years of fruitless searching for the lost god of the wild—a god who hadn't been seen in two thousand years—but Grover firmly believed he was out there. If he could just find Pan, he'd be able to preserve nature and stop climate change and deforestation and all that. Grover dropped his tin can in his lap. They're holding a hearing in a week to review my license! That's got to count for something. Chiron banged his hoof against the floor, calling us to attention.

The chatter in the arena died down. One of the training dummies fell to the ground, covered with shaving cream and silly string. Travis and Connor Stoll, the counsellors for Hermes cabin, grinned sheepishly. The other counsellors murmured in assent: Clarisse for Ares, her beefy arms crossed under a perpetual scowl; Beckendorf for Hephaestus, his large hands fiddling with some contraption that had a lot of gears and wires; Silena of Aphrodite, twisting a long, dark curl around her left pinky finger … we were all here, representing the nine occupied cabins.

Well, all except one. We will fill him in later. At any rate, the other member of cabin three will only arrive then as well. There was a ripple of interest among the other counsellors. Percy's half-brother Tyson might be a Cyclops, but he'd won everyone over last summer when he'd helped us to retrieve the Golden Fleece and save the camp.

Even Clarisse grudgingly acknowledged that he was 'kinda cool. As for me, I owed Tyson my life several times over. Cyclops or not, I now considered him one of my best friends. The only person who didn't seem too thrilled by Tyson's upcoming return to camp was Grover. I guess I couldn't blame him. Last year, he'd almost ended up first as the bride and then the dinner of one of Tyson's brethren long story.

And he'd never had the chance to spend much time with Tyson after that, so he probably hadn't realised what I had come to: monsters weren't all designed with the same blueprint. The big guy was really a huge softy … and an incredibly loyal friend. The grey-haired man put down the rag he'd been using to clean the training sword and stepped forward. His voice was low and pleasant, like his throat had been lubricated with oil.

The sword dangled casually from his left hand. The world's biggest puppy burst through the door, only it wasn't a puppy—it was a massive hellhound with pitch black fur and glistening teeth framing its slavering grey tongue. Silena Beauregard screamed. Clarisse cursed and jumped to her feet, pulling her electric spear from behind her back.

Beckendorf leapt up and thrust Silena behind him protectively. Without any of us noticing, he had stepped into a battle stance by the hellhound's side, holding his sword in a defensive position. The hellhound's tail thumped enthusiastically. It caught the Stoll brothers' dress-up dummy, which flew across the room and hit the wall in a mini fireworks explosion. Evidently, they'd planted firecrackers inside for a prank.

He frowned at Quintus. Quintus scratched under the hellhound's enormous jaws. A line of drool trickled from her slobbery mouth. Mrs O'Leary covered the distance in a single bound. She sank her sharp teeth into the dummy and returned to Quintus's feet, where she sat on her haunches and began gnawing the dummy into sawdust. She still hadn't put away her spear. Mrs O'Leary turned towards her.

Lee Fletcher from Apollo and Dionysus's twin sons scooted their seats back. Despite Chiron and Quintus's assurances, Mrs O'Leary looked well capable of ripping any of us to shreds.

But she also reminded me of the three-headed Rottweiler that guarded the Underworld. Cerberus had been ready to kill us when we'd faced him … until I'd brought out a ball for him to play with. Mrs O'Leary took a few tentative steps towards Clarisse. Her tongue darted out to lick Clarisse's hand. Mrs O'Leary backed away from the spear point and whined. A trickle of yellow liquid ran down her back legs.

In the woods, preferably. Quintus nodded and snapped his fingers. Mrs O'Leary followed him out. She left a wet splotch on the floor that smelt like, well, dog pee.

His girlfriend was one of the wood nymphs. They got pretty touchy about people messing up their trees. We adjourned to the rec room to finish the meeting. Travis and Connor took over the ping-pong table immediately, filling the room with the sound of bouncing balls. Chiron had to bang his hoof a few times to get everyone's attention. The carpeted floor muffled the sound. I guess this was why Chiron hadn't just held the war council here in the first place.

There were too many distractions for a bunch of ADHD demigods. The Titan lord has promised an attack and we must be prepared. Already this spring some of his advance guard have attempted to infiltrate our borders, though they were fortunately unsuccessful. However, Kronos is not one to admit defeat. I believe he will break through eventually. Our eyes locked. Between us passed the memory of a dark tunnel, a glowing triangle, and a blown-up building in Phoenix, Arizona.

Or any sign that Luke has learned to navigate it. She'd been pretty spooked by the possibility when Clarisse had reported about the Labyrinth. I guess that hadn't changed. In lieu of head counsellors, I would like to appoint Annabeth as head strategist.

Each of you has your strengths. Beckendorf, Hephaestus cabin must oversee the stocking of the armoury at once. Beckendorf grunted in assent.

He gripped the wrench in his hand like he was ready to start hammering at the camp forge. When the time comes, we will rely on you to lead the charge. Chiron continued to assign roles to each cabin leader—the Stolls as battle scouts, Katie and Dionysus's twins in charge of camp welfare.

Silena took point on the daily administrative duties that were usually shared out among all the counsellors. Chiron didn't mention Percy. I wondered what role he had in mind for him.

Percy's special power was controlling water, which didn't make for a real strategy. But he had an even bigger strength: he was a whiz at improvisation.

It drove me crazy, the way he always jumped into things without a plan, but he was also good at fixing things on the fly when plans went wrong. Maybe Chiron was keeping him in reserve, as back-up.

It was what I'd do, if I were strategising. It should be interesting. In the meantime, train your campers, but do not alarm them. We may be preparing for an attack, but we are still a summer camp. Our campers are here to learn and have fun. The meeting ended. I went over to Clarisse, intending to ask if she had any updates about the Labyrinth.

She looked like a sad Bozo the clown. Muldoon died from a massive heart attack. Poor Mary was fixing dinner in the kitchen. She went into the living room, where he would listen to the radio and read the paper, and found him dead in his chair, his paper scattered at his feet. Just drinks away her sorrows. Did you get that pretty dress you wanted, Bianca? Most of my evenings were spent with Nonna.

Nonna thought it would be charitable of us to visit Mrs. On a Saturday evening, when I was bussing tables in the restaurant, I accidentally spilled marinara sauce on an ugly blue puff-sleeve dress that she was wearing.

Nonna was not someone to disagree with. We walked precariously up the steps of Mrs. Muldoon will slip and fall on this snow. I shoveled while Nonna gave commands. As we were stomping our feet and about to ring the doorbell, the door opened. Muldoon said to me. The slobs next door never clear the sidewalk.

Then come in. Muldoon held the door as Nonna entered. Muldoon said with a fake smile. Ignore her. As the door shut, I gave Mrs. Muldoon the finger. I shoveled the curb, making sure to leave just a bit of snow on the curb, hoping she might slip.

I found the two of them standing in the archway that led to the living room. Nonna was oohing and aahing over a silver aluminum Christmas tree with a color wheel. Paid a pretty penny for it. At Sears, ya know.

The girl in the store, a pudgy midget, said it was a specialty item. Muldoon snapped. What are you? Muldoon looked irritated. Yes, Molly. Or a dwarf. But nice enough, she was. And quite knowledgeable.

She told me the tree was made in some town in Wisconsin. Would be an heirloom in the future. Children could be a pain in the arse. Muldoon almost slipped on the red-brick linoleum floor, but Nonna was able to grab her arm and steady her into a chair. The kitchen smelled like a pine tree. Nonna explained to me later that the smell was from all the gin that Mrs.

Muldoon drank. Nonna brewed coffee in the percolator, after opening cabinets and rummaging through the disorganized mess of her cupboards. Muldoon was silent, her eyes dreamy, looking out the window above the sink. Look on top of the refrigerator. Do they still make snowflake cutouts in school, Molly? I used to love Christmas time when I was a tot. They make snowflakes in elementary school. Muldoon said. Snowflakes should be appreciated at every age.

Her nose crinkled. No alcohol. Depending on temperature and air humidity, the ice crystals create myriad shapes. I prefer the realness of nature. Muldoon laughed. And all those big words: myriad and wondrous. Nonna set the coffee and small plate of cookies in the table center. She got a perfect score on her SAT verbal and almost a perfect score on her math. Her IQ is Do they teach you to count your blessings?

Do they teach you your catechisms? Now those are valuable lessons. I attend Immaculate Conception. The sisters have to explain all that to us. And at this time of year.

A bit of the coffee spilled over the rim. What a bunch of malarkey. Muldoon guffawed. Muldoon said, raising herself from the chair. Stop being such a mother hen. When Mrs. Hurry up. Nonna wrapped them in napkins and stuffed them in her bag, which she clasped shut just as we heard the toilet flush down the hall. Oh, how she used to make me laugh. You know. From I Love Lucy. Now that was a funny show. And Lucille Ball. What a riot! Muldoon pursed her lips. We are all specks of dust floating in an enormous universe.

Wanting to see a dead body, too? Where does she come up with these things? Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! The black bark of a tree cut through a gray square of sky.

Nonna looked out the window as well. The snow is falling. And I want to add some more ornaments to our Christmas tree so it can be just as beautiful as Mrs. An old woman with all her money. Drinking herself to death. Learn not to be so fresh.

Three stories were selected for different anthologies of best short fiction. In , he was chosen as a finalist for the Tuscany Prize in Catholic Fiction. In , Mr. Mulhern was awarded a fully paid writing fellowship to Oxford University in the United Kingdom.

That same year, a story was longlisted for the Fish Short Story Prize. In , he was nominated for a Pushcart Prize. He has received other awards. His writing novel and short story collection earned favorable critiques from Kirkus Reviews. Then we would hang a right, and travel down Forty Second Street.

Another right down Broadway, then on to Central Park West. The rally would end at the Great Lawn; the acre geographical center of Central Park, located between 79th to 85th streets. This parade and rally was organized by a coalition of peace groups opposed to nuclear arms.

They came together as The June 12 Rally Committee. The United Nations second special session on disarmament began last week. Many world leaders were in New York City to address this issue. President Reagan would be here, later in the week. My best friend had asked me to accompany him. He had been a medic and did two tours of duty in Viet Nam. Ben was ten years my senior. When I turned eighteen, I had to register for the draft.

Several weeks later the war was over and troops were coming home. I wound up receiving a 3A deferment. Deferment because of hardship to dependents. Ben was an old hand at this.

He was active in the Civil Rights and Anti-War movement. This was my first protest event. News reports stated that a quarter of a million people were expected and I was one of them. This event was history in the making. As we passed Grand Central Station, I noticed a group of women, to my immediate right. A large sign caught my attention. When I tapped Ben on the shoulder and brought this to his attention, he appeared agitated.

Directly across the street I saw another sign being waved around. He became visibly upset. He told me that this was divisive and symbolic of our splintering into separate, self-serving camps. I understood what Ben meant, but was too caught up in the excitement of the moment to give his statement much thought.

As we made our way down Central Park West, I spotted a man sitting by the window of his third story apartment. He smiled and waved at the crowd. Suddenly I heard booing emanating from my section. I smiled and waved back. Two teenage girls in front of me cursed at the man while giving him the finger. A childish act, I said to myself. We dispersed as we reached the Great Lawn. A concert was in progress. Music was booming from a huge stage over the heads of the thousands camped in front of me.

Linda Ronstadt was performing. I could hear her but was too far from the stage to see Linda singing. We were awash in a sea of humanity. About twenty minutes later Ben and I tried to make our way through the demonstrators. We were heading downtown for a meal. The crowd was now estimated at half a million.

We had proved our point. This was a thrilling experience for me. On an impulse, we decided to take in the last showing that night of Barbarella. Jane Fonda stars in a science fiction cult film, from nineteen sixty eight. She was at that time, just a short period away from becoming a radical activist and maturing as an actress. In the morning, the front pages of all the newspapers were filled with the details of this occurrence.

The demonstration was larger than anyone anticipated, drawing close to one million. The N. D had five thousand officers on overtime duty. Many celebrities had addressed the crowds. Motorist had been warned to stay away from Manhattan.

Businesses complained that they had lost millions of dollars. It appears, in this new century, every country has these weapons now and they are not shy about threatening to use them.

Does the theory of Mutually Assured Destruction carry any weight these days? Might as well go out laughing. Teenagers, sixteen and fourteen respectively, and half-siblings to the boy left behind, ten-year-old Peter. A lot of wine. All she did was give them money. The only good thing was that the money she gave was plentiful. Too plentiful, and random, like she gave it no thought.

Their so-called mother had been eager to let the older kids go. Desperate, they had threatened to spill the beans to the grandparents — the rich set, not the hard-working, middle-class set who had spent years fighting to see them. Gil drove the ten miles to their mansion-like home in West Rockville to bring them to our humble townhouse. He called his brother Aaron who was watching The Celebrity Apprentice at our house. Peter cried, racking in sobs at times, and admitted their mom had been drunk since they left.

But this lift does not go any higher than There seems to be no alternative but to go down to the ground floor again and find another lift. However, as it turns out, the one with the even numbers does not stop at the ground floor but continues all the way to the basement. Swallowing my mounting irritation, I get out to take another lift. But in the basement all the lights appear to have burned out and I simply cannot locate anything. After what seems to have been at least an hour I discover a gap in the darkness in front of me.

A stairwell, it seems. Only, there are no stairs, either up or down. From what I can make out—but what can I make out in that Egyptian dark? For all I know it may reach down to the bottom of the earth.

Meticulously I start palpating the wall again, centimeter by centimeter. Surely, if I continue this way, keeping the wall on my left, it must lead somewhere. Once, I trip over what feels like a big box and nearly fall flat on my face.

For a while I squat down on the floor. There is no cause for me to get excited. There is a rational explanation for everything. This, after all, is a hypermodern building; there must be logic in its construction.

No need to lose my cool. No need, above all, to hyperventilate, as my body is threatening to do. Breathe deeply, count to ten, try again. Another hour: this time I remember to check it on the luminous dial of my watch. Then, unexpectedly, I stumble over an object in my way. A big box. Can it be the same one as before? But if it is, I have completed a circle without passing any openings or recesses at all, and certainly no stairs or lifts.

My forehead is wet with sweat. If only I had a cell phone with me. But that is a part of modern technology that has passed me by. How many times has Lydia made disparaging comments about it! Calm down now. Just take it calmly. Count to a hundred. And then, inexplicably, my feet find a staircase, leading up. How could I have missed it on my two previous rounds? No matter. I shall soon be out and on my way up to Lydia, who will be most amused.

She has in recent months been teasing me about getting old much faster than she. I keep mounting for an interminable time. Surely this is much more than a single story? I start counting the stairs.

After a hundred and fifty I stop. This is bloody ridiculous. Now what? Go down again? Most decidedly not. Up and up. Another hundred steps. And then, suddenly, rounding a corner, there is a glimmer of light ahead. It grows stronger. My breath is coming in unhealthy gasps, burning my throat. The light keeps on growing stronger. After stumbling on for another eternity I find myself back on the ground floor, the lobby I know so well. The whole thing must have been a delusion. It may not be a bad idea to have a medical checkup tomorrow.

If it is still today? I look at my watch. It has stopped. But at least there is the reassurance of the lobby. There is a row of lifts on the right. Four of them. I enter the first, taking care to keep the door open until I have consulted the instrument panel. I move on to the second lift. Uneven numbers this time, but they stop at 9 and then jump to The third lift reverts to even numbers.

The fourth has a small white handwritten card dangling from the handle. So what will it be? I can of course take the stairs. But the idea of thirteen flights does not appeal to me.

Especially not after my experience in trying to get out of the basement. Just stay calm now. Think, David. Cogito ergo sum, or whatever. It takes some time before it strikes me that I may, quite simply, have come to the wrong entrance.

This may be southeast, not northwest. Not so? I go outside. The early evening breeze fans my overheated, throbbing face. From this angle the building indeed has a totally different aspect from the one I am used to. Immensely relieved but still with a shadow of uneasy doubt in a deep corner of my mind , I proceed along the outside wall of the huge complex until I reach the next corner, marked NORTHEAST, where I step into the brightly lit entrance hall.

Immediately I feel at home. Of course, yes, this is where I should have entered in the first place. I have wasted an inordinate amount of time. Curiously, my first thought is not of Lydia, who must be frantic with anxiety by now. I am such a conscientious and punctual husband, so wholly predictable.

Apart from that one impulsive decision, so many years ago, when I turned down the invitation to leave the country with Embeth, I have never done an uncalculated, unpremeditated thing in my life. The person I am concerned about right now is, instead, the strange young woman Sarah behind the blue door. She must be worried about me. And the children. The lisping Tommie, the solemnly smiling Emily with her long plaits. I hurry to the far corner. This time I have no hesitation in opening the first lift, the one I always take.

The instrument panel is reassuringly familiar. I rest my right hand on the side railing to keep my balance. In the dark mirror I see my face like a pale blotch in the half-dark interior. It looks disembodied. To tell the truth, I do not recognize myself at all. Only after several seconds do I register that there must be something wrong. We seem to be going too far. I check the panel. It has changed since I stepped inside: the sequence of numbers is quite irregular.

At 20 the lift comes to a shuddering halt, but the door does not open. I press DOWN, but nothing happens. When I try 15 the lift comes into motion, but it swooshes right past the requested floor and once again comes to a standstill only at the last stop, the ground floor.

The door remains firmly shut. Once more the lift zips to the top, where it remains motionless. Then down: this time it stops at 15 and the door slides open. Gasping with relief, I quickly step outside to take two flights of stairs down. But although this floor is clearly marked 15, and the next one 14, there appears to be no the floor after that bears in bold figures the number 9. Somewhat to my surprise—by now I am ready for anything—the rest of the sequence remains normal and in due course I reach the ground level.

No harm in trying. But although there are numerous buttons on the panel inside, not one of them is marked with a number. They are all blank. I move on to the third lift. In this one every single button sports the number With grim determination I leave the monstrous building and proceed to the third entrance. Once again I cannot find a single lift marked with the correct numbers. Could you please tell me how to get there?

Once again the instrument panel appears defective: there are no numbers on the buttons, only the letters of the alphabet. But all I want is to get home. Wait like all of us. His face has noticeably withered since my arrival. Come next April, it will be three hundred and two years. Outside I stop to look up at the rows upon rows of windows. I used to be able to find our windows high up without any problem. Tonight I am not sure. Somewhere up there Lydia must be waiting. I have a distressing feeling of having left her in the lurch.

Betrayal of a kind I have committed only once before in my life. This time it is different. But does it not come down to the same cowardly abandonment? How long have I been here? The hands of my watch still stand accusingly on ten to seven. For all I know it may be past midnight. What has happened in the house with the blue door in the meantime?

Are the children still waiting for me to bathe them or has Sarah taken over my chores? Why should the thought suddenly make me feel guilty, as if I have let them down? I have nothing to do with them, have I? And the young woman, Sarah? Why should the thought of her suddenly perturb me? Although she seems to be perfectly familiar with me.

Suppose, in a way I have no hope of fathoming, she really regards me as her husband? I remember the full, moist touch of her lips on mine. Her black eyes. The movement of her body, her tight buttocks as she walked away down the passage. The sucking sound of her bare feet on the tiles. If it is still there. If it has ever been there. If I myself am here. As if no time at all has elapsed since I closed the door behind me. It is a most unsettling sensation, but I seem to be the only one to find it strange.

And in a curious way it is reassuring to be accepted so unquestioningly. Perhaps, I think, the strangeness is not here, but in me. Soon, who knows, everything may slot into place again. It is better not to let on how bewildered I am. In the bathroom, round the corner in a side passage, the bath is waiting, with large, soft, white towels laid out on a stand next to the toilet, and the children are already half undressed by the time I arrive.

In a flash they are in the water, their smooth little bodies as slick as baby seals. A few big splashes cover half of the floor in puddles. I take the precaution of closing the door before I start undressing. My fingers are numb with embarrassment, but they seem not to notice anything out of the ordinary and in a few moments I slide in.

Tommie has imaginary cuts and wounds on his knees and toes to show me, and which have to be kissed and patted before he will let me go.

And Emily manages to get her long hair wet and insist on having it rubbed and dried before she will return to her games with a yellow duck and a partially dismembered Barbie doll. It takes a lot of pleading and rash promising to coax them out of the water again.

T ommie is so busy collecting his boats and fishes and cars that it takes all my energy to dry him and stuff him into his bright pajamas. Without more ado he runs off. She shakes her head vehemently. But after a brief bout of patting and rubbing, she insists on lying down on her back.

The Bird of Paradise. A Romance. "The starlight smile of children, the sweet looks Of women, the fair breast from which I fed. The murmur of the unreposing brooks, And the green light which, shifting overhead. Some tangled bower of vines around me shed; The shells on the sea-sand and the wild flowers, The lamplight through the rafters cheerly spread. And on the twining flax—in life's young.

Kazanova - Carlos Blefinger - Danke Zimbabve (CD, Album)

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List of Davido Songs and Albums up to By Matt Stephens. November 1, Page Contents. Tags Celebrity Davido. For business and editorial enquiries, please get in touch with me using any of my social handles below.

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GRANDE GIGANT CLASSIC - zelené album s kazetou na bankovky, mince, pohledy a dokumenty A4 - kapacita alba až 80 listů GRANDE nebo 10 ENCAP- Leuchtturm Extra široké zelené album GRANDE GIGANT Classic na bankovky, mince, pohledy, známky a dokumenty A4 v elegantním koženkovém provedení s plastovou kazetou.

Pretzel Logic - Steely Dan - Greatest Hits (Vinyl, LP)

Retrieved September 30, Encyclopedia of Popular Music 5th ed. Omnibus Press. Acclaimed Music. Retrieved July 12, London: Stereo Review. IPC Media. Archived from the original on December 29, Retrieved May 4, The Village Voice. January 20, Stylus Magazine. Archived from the original on 12 October Retrieved 1 March Retrieved July 15, Get the item you ordered or your money back. Learn more - eBay Money Back Guarantee - opens in new window or tab. Contact seller. Visit Shop. See other items More See all.

Item information Condition:. Read more. The listing has ended. Current bid:. Your maximum bid:. Submit bid Resume bidding , if the page doesn't update immediately. Watch this item Watching. Watch list is full. Long-time member. Redeem your points Conditions for uk nectar points - opens in a new window or tab. No additional import charges on delivery.

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For additional information, see the Global Shipping Programme terms and conditions - opens in a new window or tab. LP Appears Glossy, Unplayed Shrink Intact Appears Glossy, Unplayed. Gold Promo Stamp On Cover Crisp Corners, No Deletion Cuts. These Pressings Sound Fabulous! Appears Glossy, Unplayed Glossy, Unplayed Condicition LP Appears Glossy Unplayed Louis Toodle-Oo.

Appears Unplayed. Unplayed Condition New, Unplayed Importer's Warehouse Stock. Mazzy , Jan 23, Panama Hotel , Cliff , Nightfly68 and 2 others like this. I have all of Steely Dan's vinyl output and at least 7 different pressings of Aja from various countries and in various colors.

I sold my Cisco copy when I realized I liked my promo copy much better, but I guess that's not unusual. The Cisco was somewhat clinical sounding to me.

I took a pass on the Fagan One Step pressing, but wish I had not, because I could have sold it later on. You might want to pick up Steely Dan's greatest hits, because it's the only album with "Here at the Western World" on it. Spin Doctor , Jan 23, SteelyNJ , Jan 23, JoblessJoe , Jan 23, Location: mt pleasant michigan.

SteelyNJ likes this. Location: New York. Love the sound of the Ludwig-cut Greatest Hits as well. And it's pretty easy to find used. Listen to how the album's hit single, "Rikki Don't Lose That Number," opens with a syncopated piano line that evolves into a graceful pop melody, or how the title track winds from a blues to a jazzy chorus -- Becker and Fagen 's craft has become seamless while remaining idiosyncratic and thrillingly accessible.

Since the songs are now paramount, it makes sense that Pretzel Logic is less of a band-oriented album than Countdown to Ecstasy , yet it is the richest album in their catalog, one where the backhanded Dylan tribute "Barrytown" can sit comfortably next to the gorgeous "Any Major Dude Will Tell You.

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Jan 24,  · I have all of Steely Dan's vinyl output and at least 7 different pressings of Aja from various countries and in various colors. Another +1 on the Ludwig x4 Greatest Hits Pretzel Logic-The US Allen Zentz (AZ) cut, not sure if his sig is on all of them or not. “Doctor Wu” as cut by Bob Ludwig on the Greatest Hits LP sounds far better.

The Booty Song - Phazorslut - No Stoppin That Rockin/Where The Music Is Loud (CDr)

Ass Like That. Bubble Butt. Boogie in Your Butt. But one thing we can all agree on is adding the hip thrust takes your booty to the next level Thanks Bret …. All I want now is to learn how to shake it…. Have you ever thought of changing your last name to ContrerASS? And, how many times have you gotten that joke? And and, how many more until it gets really old? Great Article!!!

And way more accurate coming from a booty expert!!! Booty, Booty, Booty, Booty, Rockin' everywhere. Rockin' everywhere. Related Questions.

What song mentions the word music the most times? What songs have the word booty within its song? What is a sentence that uses the word booty? A pirates booty is his loot. What is an Elton John song that mentions or has anything to do with transcendentalism? It's Sorry seems to be the hardest word. What book of the Bible mentions the word sing the most?

What language does the word virus come from? In the Bible where is the word booty listed book chapter and verse? The word booty is found in Numbers and Zephaniah What is the code for goonami? Iggy and J-Lo flash and grind their greased backsides all throughout the video, leaving me to wonder, what on earth has happened to pop music? Have we fallen so far? Have our standards for what we constitute as art dropped so low that when we hit lower and lower depths we become desensitized to it all?

Where do we go from here? Is this vulgar lowbrow popular music the new normal? I certainly hope not. There is so much good music performed by talented artists out there. We need to support them. And while we're at it, tell these pop stars, as many did on Jennifer Lopez's facebook page, that we are disappointed in their sad, classless attempt to climb the fame ladder.

Shocking vulgarity will only get you so far. Tags studio balkan veliki bernays propaganda fonija generiss macedonia vasko atanasoski world xaxaxa noviot pochetok Skopje. Vtora mladost, treta svetska vojna LP.

Always feeling so uncomfortable And the situation tends to be predictable Hope slips through trained fingers That's how it's always been. I can't seem to tear myself away Been living in the past with my mistakes But I always find a way to numb the tension And bury thoughts alone under the skin to hide the damage done to my defense Senses have gone and cracked I concede. Yesterday's accomplishments replaced by tomorrow's burdens A never-ending cycle begins So diseased and looking for a means to end I've found nothing's solid anymore All that's left is try And I confess.

Designed and developed inside my lungs Now on the tip of my fucking tongue But no one ever gets the point That life is always about to fall to pieces Just something beautiful that's about to get wrecked But no one wants to feel at all Because we've made ourselves so numb, numb, numb And I want to feel something Numb, numb, numb Don't you want to feel something?

I won't ever live that way again 'cause somewhere along the line I lost feeling And I lost control But then I lost strength and completely lost hope When are lives are consumed by society's fumes We punch our timeclocks and watch the ignorance bloom. And how strange See I'm always turning backwards and forwards again Retracing my steps to the bitter cold end Rewind the tape and let me see exactly where it went wrong Indulge in our pasts strong.

And how strange that we all feel the same And how strange that all we can do is complain Designed and developed inside of my lungs Now on the tip of my fucking tongue The Silent Acquiescence Of Millions - Sinch - Sinch no one ever gets the point That life is always about to fall to pieces Just something beautiful that's about to get wrecked But no one wants to feel at all Because we've made ourselves so numb, numb, numb And I want to feel something Numb, numb, The Silent Acquiescence Of Millions - Sinch - Sinch Don't you want to feel something?

Please click here if you are not redirected within a few seconds. Advisory - the following lyrics contain explicit language: Always feeling so uncomfortable And the situation tends to be predictable Hope slips through trained fingers That's how it's always been I can't seem to tear myself away Been living in the past with my mistakes But I always find a Im Ready - The Blues Band - Ready to numb the tension And bury thoughts alone under the skin to hide the damage done to my defense Senses have gone and cracked I concede Maybe I'm unsure of just what it takes to frustrate and dismantle apathy Rain, wash away the temptations before I let them get the best of me Related.

Oxo 86 - Helden Wie Wir The Limbo craze took America by storm in the early '60s. You couldn't go to a party during this time without being forced to do the Limbo, or at least watch someone else do it or try to do it.

The Limbo was often characterized as a dance, but it would be more accurate to call it the combination of a line dance and an exercise set to music. You need good balance, strong ankle and leg muscles, and a willingness to embarrass yourself in front of others to do the Limbo.

Like a high jump, except you're going under the bar, not over it. Start the Limbo music, form a line boy, girl, boy, girlspread your legs, hop forward and go under the bar your hands can't touch the ground. As one might imagine, as the bar gets lower it starts to get pretty hard. Whoever goes under the lowest setting, wins, or is the life of the party, or whatever. Another album purchased for the cover art alone. Who could resist this party? A flaming limbo pole, a rocking trio and yet the men are still appropriately bound up in coats and ties.

Not to be confused with the 80s Man Smart The Limbomaniacs, a far differrent animal I'm afraid, this group is here to give us a taste of the exotic. Ivy Pete and his Limbomaniacs - Limbo party? A chance is made, a chance is lost I carry myself to the edge of the earth.

The moment that we dread It comes all too soon Voices in your head Still carry on the tune. Let the sound come in From the world outside You just keep on singing When they tell you filthy lies. Remember how it made you hurt Even as you fight to go on Turn it into something else Turn it into something else. I never had the time before Leaving things where they fell I was going door to door Always thinking I was somewhere else. Talking with my brother when the lights went out Down the hallway forty years ago And what became much harder was so easy then Opening up and letting go.

Disembodied voices Floating in the air This place in the darkness Could be anywhere. Talking to each other as we wait for sleep The angel in the detail soon arrives Spreading her wings over every memory And keeping all our hopes alive.

We could be anywhere We could be anywhere We could be anywhere. We could be We could be anywhere We could be anywhere We could We could be anywhere. Got to make you less lonely Got to make you less lonely. All the trash and the treasure All the trash and the treasure All the pain and the pleasure Taste the edible flowers Taste the edible flowers Scattered in the salad days.

I can never forget The day we said goodbye Holding your hands A rainbow low in the sky. And all the colours there To gather you up and carry you up All the colours there To gather you up. And all the colours there To open us up and bring us luck All the colours there To open us up. All the colours there To gather us up, to gather us up To gather us up, to gather you up again. Over these green hills Blue electric light Always in my blood Forever in my eyes Black window space Basket made of flax Broken mirror view Let your eyes relax.

And it has to be clear It has to be clear, inside my head. This bird has to sing My heart has to follow A man with no soul Is wooden and hollow. This gentle hum Has just begun This gentle hum Will make us one. With a gentle hum Has just begun This gentle hum Will make us one. This gentle hum This gentle hum, coming up from before Will make us one Find a loving feeling, inside This gentle hum This gentle hum, bringing it back to me Has just begun Find a loving feeling in your life.

Vivace 2. Largo, Ma Non Tanto 3. Allegro - Johann. Track Listing - Disc 1. Splash Down. Chris Wong Won. Da' Dip. Eric Timmons. Freak Nasty. Scrub da Ground. Sean Chavis. Splack Pack. Break It Down. My Baby Daddy. Keep Doin' It Radio. Peter Jones. MC Shy D. Can't Stop No Playa.

Booty Music Lyrics: When the beat goin like that (boom boom) / Girl, I wanna put you up in my room / I wanna put you up against that wall / Throw you .

Lunático - Cómplices - Lo Mejor de Cómplices (CD, Album)

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Get free delivery with Amazon Prime. Back to top. Get to Know Us. Amazon Payment Products. English Choose a language for shopping. Es por Ti. Cuando Duermes. El Pintor de Arco Iris. El Puente. El Tren. El Viajero de la Lluvia Negra. Es por ti. Fotos del Ayer. Ha Terminado el Beso. Hoy Necesito. La Danza de la Ciudad. La Luna no Pinta Nada. La Marea. La Milicia Cruel. Lo que me Mata. Lo que siento. Loco Alquimista. Los Tejados. Nada es Para Siempre. No desesperes mujer.

No ha Pasado Nada. No me Pidas. Nunca mais. Ojos Gitanos. Pa ti. Pa ti [y pa vosotros]. Pido una Noche. Por el bosque. Presos del Tiempo.

Queda la Noche. Ser un Dedo Tuyo. Si te Fueras. Si tienes que marcharte. Siguiendo al Mar. Sonrisa Plateada. Complicidad: Las Mejores Canciones. Tren sin frenos.

May 10,  · Album Cómplices; Licensed to YouTube by complices - Dicen YouTube; LUIS MIGUEL DE NUEVO AL PARAISO - Duration: JOSE JOSE y LUIS MIGUEL ÉXITOS LO MEJOR DE LO MEJOR (30 Éxitos.

I Am A Fool

There was the figure of human lying down. It was his everything. Just like last time, Mingu came to this place the first and gave the core gem to his daughter. He would not come out of this cave alive as the green was eating away most of his body parts.

When his daughter woke up, he would be dead. But that was okay. That was why he stood, blocking the entryway from any invaders to protect his daughter. The pain of being eaten alive did not matter to him. It was not good to go in, other than risking the danger of being attacked by those monsters. It was a wiser choice to stay here until night. She was very curious about my faith and has since become Orthodox in her beliefs.

COVID has prevented us from going to church, but the idea is that one day, when this all settles down, she would enter the church fully. Shortly after I met her, she told me about a little girl in her life. The little girl, she said, is her male friend's child. This isn't my girlfriend's child, as the child is half black and my girlfriend is white the child's mother is black. Both of the child's parents are involved in the little girl's life, although they aren't together. My girlfriend's relationship with this child is very unique and a bit strange.

She tends to act like her mother even though she clearly isn't. My girlfriend showed me photos of this child, and they were all of her, the male friend, and the child, in this place and that place. Naturally I asked why she hadn't had a relationship with this man, and she told me it would never work like that and it "wasn't like that.

It turns out that this man is a terrible human being and insulted my faith and my girlfriend the whole time. I was stunned and didn't know what to do or what to think. When we left I told my girlfriend that this isn't right. She proceeded to tell me the truth. They had dated 10 years ago and he was abusive. He hurt her quite badly, but she stated friends with him all this time because he "had nobody else.

For me, that was enough. I told her that I'm not trying to control her when I say this, but she couldn't have both me and this man and her strange relationship with this child in her life at the same time. I couldn't live like that. She told me she would distance herself.

As the days, weeks, and months went on, he began harassing her. He shows up at her job all the time and she hides it from me. She eventually comes clean. When we're together, sometimes her phone will light up with his name and I'll briefly see profanities and insults.

I told her I've noticed these things and she needs to end this because again, this isn't something I'm willing to tolerate. She said she only does because of the child. I had to bluntly tell her that this isn't even her child!

One thing I know. He thinks she wants him because he wants her. End of. More recently than this story was written, numerous studies have shown that men tend to overestimate romantic interest shown to them by women Levesque et al. The difference here is between the narrator as he tells his story the extradiegetic , autodiegetic narrator and the person he was when this story was happening in real time.

When he describes his strong feelings after the train leaves it feels very raw and unprocessed. He wants to punish himself physically e. He is romantically alone and he will return to his underbelly life, but with a newfound dissatisfaction. User Ratings. External Reviews. Metacritic Reviews. Photo Gallery. Trailers and Videos. Crazy Credits. Alternate Versions. Rate This. Director: Eddie Kim as Edward Kim. Writer: Eddie Kim as Edward Kim.

Added to Watchlist. Use the HTML below. You must be a registered user to use the IMDb rating plugin. Photos Add Image Add an image Do you have any images for this title? The primitive vocabulary in some ways prevent the reader from receiving an accurate portrayal emotion therefore making the reader guess what the narrator is feeling in certain situations.

For instance, "Gee whizz! Throughout the story, we see the narrator being deceptive and dishonest to others and him self on several occasions. For instance, he shows resentment towards the educated claiming that they 'don't know nothing at all,' however he presents us with a new perspective towards the educated saying that 'There are some Views Read Edit View history. Help Community portal Recent changes Upload file. Download as PDF Printable version.

"I Am A Fool!" Crossword Clue The crossword clue "I am a fool!" with 7 letters was last seen on the May 13, We think the likely answer to this clue is SILLYME. Below are all possible answers to this clue ordered by its rank. You can easily improve your search by specifying the number of letters in the answer.

Joanie

Check Out. You gotta check out. Iris revealed to her that Joe knew Kid Flash, and when Joanie asked for his opinion, he couldn't decide which hero he liked more. Suddenly, they were attacked by Clive Yorkin , but Kid Flash "got there" in time and saved Joanie and the others. At the West house , Joanie and her mother looked at a sonogram of Cecile's unborn baby and the former expressed delight at finally having a sibling.

As Joanie dropped her mother off at the restaurant where Iris's bachelorette party was being held, Cecile invited her to attend but the latter declined, explaining she already had plans. Joe kindly but firmly discouraged her from being a stripper, to which she revealed that she was writing a book about the female experience, which included condemning male gaze. Joe encouraged Joanie to tell Cecile about her research. Saturday 14 March Sunday 15 March Monday 16 March Tuesday 17 March Wednesday 18 March Thursday 19 March Friday 20 March Saturday 21 March Sunday 22 March Monday 23 March Tuesday 24 March Wednesday 25 March Thursday 26 March Friday 27 March Saturday 28 March Monday 30 March Tuesday 31 March Wednesday 1 April Thursday 2 April Friday 3 April Saturday 4 April Sunday 5 April Monday 6 April Tuesday 7 April Wednesday 8 April Thursday 9 April Friday 10 April Saturday 11 April Sunday 12 April Monday 13 April Tuesday 14 April Wednesday 15 April Friday 17 April Saturday 18 April Sunday 19 April Monday 20 April Tuesday 21 April Wednesday 22 April Thursday 23 April Friday 24 April Saturday 25 April Sunday 26 April Monday 27 April Tuesday 28 April Wednesday 29 April Thursday 30 April Friday 1 May Saturday 2 May Sunday 3 May Monday 4 May Tuesday 5 May Wednesday 6 May Thursday 7 May Joanie has a Bachelor of Science with Highest Distinction from the State University of New York, She is a mom of two wonderful children and spends her free time running, exercising, decorating and remodeling.

In , she achieved a long term goal and dream of running the New York City Marathon, and plans on doing it again soon. Popular Topics:. Goal Setting. Building Confidence. Juggling Priorities. Advancing Women in the Workplace. Internship Workshops. Joanie dedicates some of her free time to working with students on multiple topics including careers, job search, interviewing techniques, public speaking and building confidence.

Joanie was the girl who lived next door I've known her I guess ten years or more Joanie wrote me a note one day And this is what she had to say.

Relentless - Craggz & Parallel* - DOA Mix (October 2010) (File, MP3)

In this guide, you are going to write three different domain classes. Moreover, you are going to write controllers, services, and views associated with them. We are going to explore different ways to save the uploaded files; byte[] in the database, local folder or remote server AWS S3. Download and unzip the source. Often a simple Grails app with some additional code to give you a head-start. It is the result of working through the steps presented by the guide and applying those changes to the initial folder.

The initial folder contains a Grails 4 application created with the web profile. It is an app to list tourism resources; hotels, restaurants, and points of interest. Even better, your performance is captured on multiple tracks. So no more worries — Cubase has your back. Combined Select Tools The new Combined Select Tools mode speeds up your editing workflow by combining the two most frequently used tools in one powerful feature.

Activate the new tool mode and the selection tools for both objects and ranges can be used at the same time, without the need to change tools. If you are a professional and time is critical, Combined Select Tools mode will be your new best friend! This project has bought together a Collaboration of many teams and individuals that you have come to know past and present you may not like a team or even have a dislike and individual from a team but again we dont care what you think.

I download it right, uncompressed bus it does not install at all. World scene. Prolix - Danger EP. DC Breaks. Murder Mile Prolix. Light Speed Prolix. Slob Prolix. Beat Down Prolix. Drop Bombs Prolix. Super Size Me. Jumanji : next level. Higher Power.

Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood. Black Panther. Trackspacer splits the source signal in 32 bands and analyses them individually. Then, it reverses the result and applies a 32 band EQ to duck exactly the same frequencies that the source needs… and in real time!

Fixed: attack and release bug Added: UI resize functionality. Severance EP Tyrone The Journey Man Goldie. Hospitality In The Park Various. Song And Dance Various Modules. Shogun Audio Presents: Various. Shogun — Part 1 Various Radian. Fabriclive 84 Dub Phizix Muted. Friction Vs.

Jan 21,  · Cleaning up frequencies to create room for each instrument is the key to a good mix. The new Spectral Comparison mode in the Channel EQ helps you to identify where action is needed. \program files\steinberg\cubase 1HUNNID 1Mind 1NghtOnly 1st Studio 2 AM 2 Bytes 2 Deep 2 piano 2 Skins 2-Step 20 Beautiful 20 Free