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OfflineMemories
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Re: Depression [Re: Icelander]
    #17482761 - 01/01/13 07:44 PM (11 years, 2 months ago)

I used to think consistent happiness without the aid of fantastical delusions was a myth.

I've actually been experiencing it lately. I haven't felt depression in months, and I'm always getting better at subduing my anxiety. My social anxiety is minuscule compared to how it used to be, and my general anxiety is more rare and mild.

It's become apparent how much I lucked out as far as genetics and fiscal security.

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Invisiblequinn
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Re: Depression [Re: Memories]
    #17482983 - 01/01/13 08:23 PM (11 years, 2 months ago)

good to hear man :thumbup:... so thats why i havent seen you around for a while


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OfflineMemories
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Re: Depression [Re: quinn]
    #17483001 - 01/01/13 08:26 PM (11 years, 2 months ago)

Ya, the constant depression made me feel dissociated from reality, and that is when I feel the most philosophical.

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Invisiblequinn
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Re: Depression [Re: Memories]
    #17483018 - 01/01/13 08:29 PM (11 years, 2 months ago)

or just like ripping on noobs


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Re: Depression [Re: quinn]
    #17483052 - 01/01/13 08:38 PM (11 years, 2 months ago)

that too

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Invisiblequinn
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Re: Depression [Re: Memories]
    #17483109 - 01/01/13 08:46 PM (11 years, 2 months ago)

:yesnod:


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OfflineWithinity
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Re: Depression [Re: liquidlounge]
    #17483283 - 01/01/13 09:21 PM (11 years, 2 months ago)

Quote:

liquidlounge said:


Infected Mushrooms and similar (Shpongle) makes me :facepalm:

Its something wannabe psychedelic over it, same with colorful rastaheads attending these sad festivals trying to carry on the psychedelic culture (LSD mainstream people started steering the sinking ship back in the 60's) without really having a clue what its about, IMO. Psychedelic commercialism/consumerism/capitalism is what i can best describe it as.




I can feel that , and when it comes to infected mushroom they are gigantic cheese-balls , anyone who has ever fucked around with a synthesizer or has any idea of production will attest to that


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Re: Depression [Re: Icelander]
    #17483394 - 01/01/13 09:40 PM (11 years, 2 months ago)

Quote:

Icelander said:
Just because painting with a toothbrush in your mouth floats the boat for some folk that doesn't mean it would satisfy someone else.  This is why life's "worth" is very subjective. In my case I see some positives about life every day. That still doesn't make it worth it for me.  If my life was twice as good as it is now and comparatively I'd say my life is not that bad, it still would not likely be worth it for me.  As I've often stated, had I no death anxiety I'd have been long gone long ago.




I don't think that was fully the point. I happen to paint but I have absolutely no idea about playing the piano, and I don't think it would float my boat too much even if I did.

I was just pointing out that it's ludicrous to state things like "there's nothing positive in my life" when you're sitting on a working body, mind, clear focusing eyes, accurately typing fingers. I could just as well say there's absolutely no wealth in my life, sitting here at my laptop, with a full stomach, in an air conditioned apartment at just the right temperature and so on. Sure there's always place for more, but there's no way I could say "I have nothing good in my life" and be accurate.


--------------------
Blessed are your eyes because they see, and your ears because they hear.



For truly, I say to you, many prophets and righteous people longed to see what you see, and did not see it,
and to hear what you hear, and did not hear it.
- Matthew 13:16

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Re: Depression [Re: liquidlounge]
    #17483483 - 01/01/13 10:02 PM (11 years, 2 months ago)

This POV isn't because i was a heroin junkie... my past heroin use is a symptom of my POV.  Back when i was using heroin it did make me feel like "everything is going to be alright."  But using heroin has nothing to with my point of view, it's just a symptom of my coping mechanism.

This summer I went to the Electic Forest music festival.  I lost my phone on the first day on MDMA and didn't care at the time because in that state of mind i figured "It will turn up, it's okay it's just a phone.  Spending time with my friends in the presence of this beautiful music is FAR more important than some piece of technology that alienates me from actually talking to my friends face to face, and feeling the presence of the direct experience."  On the second to last day i went to the lost and found tent and someone had actually turned it in!  The only hope i have for humanity is the psychedelic using community, which is why i have posted 20 thousand something posts here.  I was so happy and had a positive outlook on life after electric forest.  The MDMA and 2 nights of tripping on LSD really did basically "control, alt, delete" my psyche.  I realized that yes life is suffering, i was happy another person turned away their own selfish desires to help me.  More importantly i learned that people CAN live together to help the community, because a truely intelligent person knows that benefiting the group ultimately benefits yourself.  We don't have to live in this white male domintor culture which hasn't really evolved much since we were primitive times.  Human can evolve to something greater than our current selves.

But then i came back to me life.  Came back home to the white male dominator culture rules the western scientific mind.  I'm not depressed all the time.  Some things do make me happy, but my POV never changes.  Our own selfish desires have blinded us from helping the community first.  However this primitive selfish dominator culture is too highly ingrained in people for it to change anytime soon... and with the state of our planet, governments and financial institutions we need things to change soon!

Our current culture is a infectious virus. This virus called western scientific culture literally infects, spreads and destroys its host.  It has already spread to nearly the entire planet with mcdonalds and all this other commercial garbage wiping out and destroying primitive well established cultures that have worked with equilibrium in nature for thousands of years.  Most people blindly support this virus and think that everything is going to be okay as it continues to spread... but everything isn't okay.  The virus has spread so far to the point that the planet/humanity is terminally ill.

I guess i just figured out that life is by definition suffering, and there is nothing you can do about it other then accept it.  Life is suffering, there is no way around it.  So peruse your dreams because that's all you have.

Edited by Cognitive_Shift (01/01/13 10:22 PM)

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OfflinePed
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Re: Depression [Re: Cognitive_Shift]
    #17483574 - 01/01/13 10:23 PM (11 years, 2 months ago)

Cognitive_Shift:

I've written a story for you.  This is for you.  It's consumed considerable time and effort.  This is not a demand that you appreciate it; it is an invitation that you enjoy it, as that's why I wrote it.  Please, do enjoy it.

More than a century ago, there lived an old woman, living alone in a small wooden house on the countryside.  She was lonely, sad, and having no one left in her life to talk to, she frequently muttered to herself about how many things which were one way really should be the other way around.  "Youth is wasted on the young", she'd say to the empty living room, "you're not mature enough to appreciate life until you're too old to do anything about it.  That should be the other way around."  No was listening to her, but she muttered anyway.  Somehow it helped her feel a little better.

She had three children.  Every year, her birthday would go by, marking another year that she hadn't seen them.  All three had gotten on with their lives, and had families of their own now.  She'd receive two dutiful letters a year from each of them, all of which were pithy and empty, saying very little other than to ask if she needed money or anything else.  Each time, she'd write back, saying "I'm an old woman.  It's a blessing to be able to walk.  What could I possibly need but you?  Won't you visit?"  Another year, another birthday, another six letters.  Each summer, her flower bed would grow a little smaller, her garden more sparse, as slowly she lost interest in everything that once made her happy. 

It had been fifteen years since she'd seen her three children.  Last time they were all together was when her sister Nancy fell suddenly ill and died.  Everyone came to the wake.  They came from all over the countryside.  She had seen her grandchildren then, all of whom were well on their way to being grown adults by now.  "Nobody visits you when you're still alive," she muttered to herself.  "They pay more honour to your ghost than they do to your flesh and blood."

"That should be the other way around."

It was her 80th birthday.

Realizing that she meant more to her three children below the ground than she does above it was a terrifying climax of despair for this old woman.  She laid awake that night with her eyes pinned open, their whites the only moons in her cloud-obscured window.  She lay there like a bag of dry bones, wondering why she should bother staying alive at all, her face like a sudden, despondent statue.  The turbulence inside her was matched by the turbulence outside her prairie home:  a dry, windy, rainless storm had wedged itself in the valley, its fury dragging twigs, sticks, and pine cones across her weathered roof.  Sprays of dust were thrown against the exterior walls, as unidentifiable claps and bangs jolted through the night.  At half past three in the morning, the bulk of the storm's ferocity suddenly blustered itself out, and there descended an erie, menacing black silence, a monolith of doom.  Its chill chased the moisture from the air.

By six a.m., the first glints of sun touched her paper skin.  She did not move.

One month later, on the other side of the land, three letters were received in three mailboxes, exceptionally well-penned and official in their appearance, postmarked the first of June.

It is with great regret that this office of the Parish informs you, the next of kin, that Angela Cohen Pierce, has been found deceased in her home.  It is assumed she passed peacefully in her sleep approximately two weeks prior to the time of this writing.  In your absence, burial arrangements have been made and will proceed in accordance with local custom.  Should you wish to attend a wake for the deceased, a small formal service will be held on the date of June 26, 1883 at the community hall.  You and your families are invited to attend.

Signed,

Angus Piermont

The Office of the Parish


June 26, 1883.

The first of three families had arrived at the prairie community hall, which stood at the centre of a dusty, almost invisible road that stretched to the horizon in two directions.  A small, framed, grey photograph of Angela Cohen Pierce stood atop a simple round table at the centre of the room, behind a folded card which read, in calligraphy: "1803-1883".  The floor groaned in protest as the first solemn, sober faces stepped through.  Christopher Pierce, his wife Sarah-Joy, and his two children, Andrew and Margaret, stood together in silence, their mother's absence felt as surely as the dryness of the summer air.

"Christopher," came a voice behind them.  "And Sarah-Joy."

They turned.  "Laura.  It is so good to see you again.  And your husband, of course, Charles.  And Aaron: a fine young man you've become haven't you?"  Laura smiled shakily, while Charles stood firm, like a post, his nod of acknowledgement a dam for his own grief as well as that of his wife."

The two families were joined a half-hour later by Angela's second daughter, Edith, her husband Kenneth, and her two daughters.  Between them, some six thousand miles had been traversed.  In time, stiff acknowledgements of grief became stories of fondness, memories of childhood, of growing up, of the war, and of all the times their mother scolded them for not wiping their feet or for giggling in church.

"We really owe who we are to her," said Christopher.  "At the time we may not have understood it, but she took care of us.  She raised us to be the people we are today.  And look, now we all have families of our own.  All thanks to this incredible woman, our mother."

"It's just such a shame that it takes a time of sadness like this to bring us all together," said Laura, her comment drawing a hollow, guilty silence into the room which seemed to swirl around their now uncomfortably ankles.  Her words hung in the air like the peal of a bell.

"Amen to that!"  Came a vibrant, fully-alive voice.  "By the Lord's mercy, look what it takes!"

"Mother?"  "Mother?!"

Edith let out a shriek.  Charles scribbled himself around on his heels, startled by the sudden commotion.  There, at the threshold, stood a ghost; the ghost of Angela Cohen Pierce.  Except, it wasn't a ghost.  She was flesh and blood.

"For fifteen years I sat alone in that house waiting to see one of you again.  Not since Nancy fell down dead did didja do much more than write me a darned page-and-a-half.  You didn't think to come 'round this way 'til you heard from Angus Piermont, a darned figment of my imagined creation!"

In that moment, that small prairie town had become town of "Aghast", population: 11, est.: 1883. 

"Mother, how did you, how could you, what right did you--?"

"Rights?  You want to talk about the rights you have, Edith?  Well, what about my right to see my three children, my right to feel like I so much as exist to the people I brought into this world.  Sure, I lied to you.  All of you.  I spent weeks at my table learnin' to forge the letters you each got; don't be thinkin' I didn't know I was lyin' to ya.  But it's a lie that's got us all to the darn truth, hasn't it?  A great big fraud, a hoax, but it ain't perpetrated nothin' but showing the truth hasn't it?  The truth that we all love each other, that we should be spending more time together--" Angela's fervour was giving way to a cry that had been welling up within her for a decade and a half--"as a family, instead of being so absorbed--so darned absorbed--in our own personal business."

Angela summoned the last of her composure to emphasize it unsparingly:  "Let me tell you, a lie isn't a lie at all if it be wearin' the clothes of the naked truth!"

"Oh, mom," Came a crumbling voice.  "Mom, I'm so sorry."  Laura's tears started first, followed by Edith's.  Even Charles' eyes were a touch flooded.

"Mother, it's just--well a man's work seems so important, and-- well, there's no use in making excuses.  I'm sorry.  We're all sorry." 

"It's all right Christopher.  Just come hug your mother."

Andrew, Margaret, and the rest of Angela's grandchildren were standing together as their parents shared what became one enormous hug.  They were stunned speechless by the scene that had just unfolded before them.  It was Andrew who finally cracked up. 

"You faked this?  Grandma?!"

It was the first laughter in what had been an otherwise sober, grim afternoon, and it quickly spread to the others.  It was a laughter which signalled the end of a fifteen year night, and the dawn of a fifteen year day.

Angela Cohen Pierce died in 1898, aged 95, having enjoyed fifteen more birthdays with her family.  She had forgiven them easily, of course, for if she were actually begrudged she would not have performed the elaborate stunt in the first place.  Her grandson Aaron, Laura's son, grew up to be a minister.  It was this story that became Aaron's favourite to tell to his congregations, where he posed the question:  if the consequence of sin is virtue, is it really sin?  If a lie tells the truth, is it really a lie at all?  If the act of selfishness leads to the end of selfishness, who but God is there to judge?"

June 26th, 1901. 

Angela Cohen Pierce's gravestone was covered in flowers.  Her entire family had made a tradition of gathering on that date, to honour their mother's deed, and had carried that tradition on into the new century.  Tucked between two stems was a folded note.

Mother,

In the three years since your passing, my gratitude for what you've done has never waned.  For fifteen years I had lost sight of everything, of what really mattered in life.  It wasn't only you I neglected, but Sarah-Joy, Andrew, Margaret, Laura, Edith, and their families too.  I had become so totally consumed by providing for my own, in becoming successful at affording my own a quality of life in which we wanted for nothing, that I forgot about the very thing which makes the effort worthwhile: each other. 

On this day in 1883, mother, your angel broke that spell.  Your grand, seraphic prank: it lifted the veil not just from my eyes, but from all our eyes.  I'm sorry you spent so many years alone.  I'm sorry you suffered so much.  But I'm happy for what grew out of it: these past fifteen years of Christmas dinners, thanksgiving turkeys, birthdays, and anniversaries.  I'm happy for the family we've become, that we've again realized the family we always were.

For fifteen years it felt like you weren't here even though you were still with us.  Even though I miss you, I'm happy that this now the other way around.  Our family is thriving meaningfully because of you, and so in a way, your spirit thrives on in each of us.  Aaron says that's the meaning of heaven.  If he's right, I'm glad you showed us the map on your way there.

I love you, mother.

Christopher
June 26th, 1901

Edited by Ped (01/01/13 10:47 PM)

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Offlinezzripz
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Re: Depression [Re: Ped]
    #17484539 - 01/02/13 02:38 AM (11 years, 2 months ago)

etymology of depression~~~



depression (n.)
    late 14c. as a term in astronomy, from Old French depression (14c.) or directly from Latin depressionem (nom. depressio), noun of action from pp. stem of deprimere "to press down, depress" (see depress).

    Attested from 1650s in the literal sense; meaning "dejection, depression of spirits" is from early 15c. (as a clinical term in psychology, from 1905); meteorological sense is from 1881 (in reference to barometric pressure); meaning "a lowering or reduction in economic activity" was in use by 1826; given a specific application (with capital D-) by 1934 to the one that began worldwide in 1929. For "melancholy, depression" an Old English word was grevoushede.

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InvisibleIcelander
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Re: Depression [Re: Spacerific]
    #17484648 - 01/02/13 03:30 AM (11 years, 2 months ago)

Quote:

Spacerific said:
Quote:

Icelander said:
Just because painting with a toothbrush in your mouth floats the boat for some folk that doesn't mean it would satisfy someone else.  This is why life's "worth" is very subjective. In my case I see some positives about life every day. That still doesn't make it worth it for me.  If my life was twice as good as it is now and comparatively I'd say my life is not that bad, it still would not likely be worth it for me.  As I've often stated, had I no death anxiety I'd have been long gone long ago.




I don't think that was fully the point. I happen to paint but I have absolutely no idea about playing the piano, and I don't think it would float my boat too much even if I did.

I was just pointing out that it's ludicrous to state things like "there's nothing positive in my life" when you're sitting on a working body, mind, clear focusing eyes, accurately typing fingers. I could just as well say there's absolutely no wealth in my life, sitting here at my laptop, with a full stomach, in an air conditioned apartment at just the right temperature and so on. Sure there's always place for more, but there's no way I could say "I have nothing good in my life" and be accurate.





Gotcha.  Of course he's exaggerating for effect here. But it can certainly "feel" that way when one is depressed. The positive edge comes off even the idea of something positive.  Or better said, the overwhelming negative aspect of the world turns everything negative. Because again everything that we feel about everything is subjective and in the moment.  In this moment for the OP everything sucks.


--------------------
"Don't believe everything you think". -Anom.

" All that lives was born to die"-Anom.

With much wisdom comes much sorrow,
The more knowledge, the more grief.
Ecclesiastes circa 350 BC

Edited by Icelander (01/02/13 03:35 AM)

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OfflineSpacerific
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Re: Depression [Re: Icelander]
    #17484720 - 01/02/13 04:19 AM (11 years, 2 months ago)

Has anybody managed to read through that long long story? I gave it a honest try but got bored out of my skull after 2-3 paragraphs so I moved on.


--------------------
Blessed are your eyes because they see, and your ears because they hear.



For truly, I say to you, many prophets and righteous people longed to see what you see, and did not see it,
and to hear what you hear, and did not hear it.
- Matthew 13:16

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Invisiblequinn
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Re: Depression [Re: Spacerific]
    #17484831 - 01/02/13 05:59 AM (11 years, 2 months ago)

yep i am going with my usual tactic of letting someone else read it n then go off their response to decide if i will :waits:

quite an impressively sized write up none the less


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Offlinezzripz
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Re: Depression [Re: quinn]
    #17485097 - 01/02/13 07:56 AM (11 years, 2 months ago)

ALL this culture is about is suppressing how we are supposed to feel. Remember that fucked up song 'when your smiling'? When I hear that song, which I hate, I think of Nancy Reagen's smiling ugly old face--remember her. She had this face that had set into a permanent 'smile'---freeeky'. But I am familiar with that, and people like that can do evil things and yet maintain a smiley face lol

So yeah, we are supposed to KEEP ON SMILING no matter what the fuckers throw at us. This culture is maudlin, and efven when this kid had his legs and arms blown off in the invasion of Iraq you have the evil fucked up media using his horrific state so that smiling politicians could get a photo opportunity and the story was the boy was 'brave'

You see people who are disabled who now are expected to become paraolympians

NOWHERE is it cool to be depressed and seriously fucked off with this world. They will say you are biologically diseased and try get you on 'medication'

But I see so-called de-press-ion as telling you something. That you are not happy...? Duh. It is better to be aware of that then deny it and get a freeky smiling mask. I think that bitch was on 'medication' also---she was the one up with the war on drugs and pushed the phrase 'just say no'. Yet SHE was popping happy-pills. Fukin hypocrite.

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InvisibleRahz
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Re: Depression [Re: Cognitive_Shift]
    #17485313 - 01/02/13 09:12 AM (11 years, 2 months ago)

Quote:

I guess i just figured out that life is by definition suffering, and there is nothing you can do about it other then accept it.  Life is suffering, there is no way around it.  So peruse your dreams because that's all you have.




:heytherebadboy:


--------------------
rahz

comfort pleasure power love truth awareness peace


"The object of opening the mind, as of opening the mouth, is to shut it again on something solid." - Gilbert Keith Chesterton

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Offlineakira_akuma
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Re: Depression [Re: Icelander]
    #17485847 - 01/02/13 11:30 AM (11 years, 2 months ago)

Quote:

Icelander said:
Quote:

The24HourMC said:
I just wanted to say that I feel the exact same way as op. At times I am sad , because I just can't understand why its like that. I can't be the only person who cares.





You aren't.  I'm there too.  As the Holy Model Rounders said. " Don't seem right,
          It don't seem right to me
          Well it don't seem right but that's how it's got to be"
http://www.tumblr.com/tagged/holy%20modal%20rounders



:thumbup:

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OfflinePed
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Re: Depression [Re: akira_akuma] * 1
    #17486568 - 01/02/13 02:10 PM (11 years, 2 months ago)

Thus it is said:
The path into the light seems dark,
the path forward seems to go back,
the direct path seems long,
true power seems weak,
true purity seems tarnished,
true steadfastness seems changeable,
true clarity seems obscure,
the greatest are seems unsophisticated,
the greatest love seems indifferent,
the greatest wisdom seems childish.

The Tao is nowhere to be found.
Yet it nourishes and completes all things.

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InvisibleIcelander
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Re: Depression [Re: Ped]
    #17486600 - 01/02/13 02:16 PM (11 years, 2 months ago)

Thus it is said. :nicesmile:


--------------------
"Don't believe everything you think". -Anom.

" All that lives was born to die"-Anom.

With much wisdom comes much sorrow,
The more knowledge, the more grief.
Ecclesiastes circa 350 BC

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Re: Depression [Re: Icelander]
    #17487136 - 01/02/13 04:04 PM (11 years, 2 months ago)

:nicesmile: :nicesmile:, :nicesmile:.

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* Ayahuasca and Jungle Visions
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Swami 3,196 41 04/26/04 02:20 AM
by Strumpling

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