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Offlineguasamandra
Stranger

Registered: 11/23/01
Posts: 4
Last seen: 14 years, 10 months
comercial
    #467662 - 11/23/01 06:23 PM (15 years, 17 days ago)

have you ever noticed, how comercials get small? they start complete and long, and then later its like the same comercial gets shorter, and then shorter, and so on until they dont show them anymore. its like memorization, first you need it all, but then later just a little to remember and recall what was advertized and what it was about (the comercial). in a psicology class i heard that thats how we learn too, since we were babies, like talking and walking, the first step is the hard one, from there, once you get the feeling of it and see how it works, you can forget about it and do it without thinking. like a brainwash, but without the negative context--what context? ...well, the one that surrounds the word upthere in the head. like the words 'why' and 'is', theyre like multitasking pieces that go anywhere and can be so stealth that they get lost in the folleage, or can be the key of what you are saying. the difference is so drastic between asking why?, how?, o howcome? and i dont even remember when to use 'who' and when 'whom'. why is it? how come i notice this things? like this afternoon when i felt like a blood cell, there at the stoplight, awating for the heart to open to shoot out and follow the flow and do what ive got to do, but without the oxigen, right? but with other things. did you see that movie fight club? at the end the guy says 'you met me at a very interesting (or is it strange, anyways) time in my life', i like to tell that to people now and always, i mean, now is an interesting time, and i will do anything possible to keep it that way as long as i can, without forcing it. letting things arrive too, and if i later change my mind well its better if i acept it right? but the interesting thing is the time of now, like that with out forcing, letting things pass. i broke my clavicule, and sometimes i forget how obvious everything is, for me, nothat i think that i know everything, but the contrary. hehe. im in a shroom trip, but that doesnt matter, its just partofthe, ejem, well of the trip. you know when you explain and explain and nobody understands, when you get frustrated and when theres a wall there. but metaforically, of course. whats goin on, on one side, is different, its more like it takes time for people to see whats happening. gradually, some get it right away, others you have to explain, and others are just like stones, right there pretty and all, they make you trip and other you keep to remember. even though im not that way. mi ex-girlfriend was that way, i dont remember if rocks, but she does keep a lot of things, everyone surrounds him/her self of what ever they want. the problem is that sometimes you dont know when to start and when to finish. and that everyone keeps saying the same thing. and that i keep saying the same thing over and over again; and that no one understands me. hehe. and that is the cool thing, its like music made with loops, boom boom boom boom, goes the bass. repeats repeats repeats repeats repeats repeats repeats repeats repears oops, until the anomalie arrives right? the one that changes the species, and it evolves it (revolves, write that down for a poem later). evolucion, that absolucionated title, i dont even know what that word means. but thats the cool thing, that now it means something and then another, depending the occasion. my brother says im a change freak, that i go from one thing to another and if a keep this going i start to describe myself, and like this slowly is more fun. my music i hear everyday, my room is filled with my paintings and my art, of all kinds, and other things, like a bob marley banner. i try not to be like anybody, not out of fear, but because its interesting something that has never happened before. like ive said (and i repeat, but thats cool, and i remember no to say sorry for everything), i dont like the cliche, it follows me, like everyone right? the tendency to be put in a box, to be judged. ooh ooh, scary, judging, the good and the evil. they are part of everything, they are the forces that pull and take. but if i keep this going it starts to sound very yingyang and hippi. my filosophy teacher is crazy, always saying how hippi he looks and how cliche he is. he himself puts it on and indicates to everyone why it is, and how it is. those of us who talk too much, or who dont say nothing, or whom are always quiet. there are always several dimensions, and its like you have to know (well, you dont have to) and notice when they change and what they change, among other things, that scape the mind, but thats not important. in fact, it is the interesting thing, the things that you learn and do without thinking now, so repetitive and so learned that they get tiring sometimes. and thats why theres rest and renovation, that what i always say. and every one repeats it to me, seriously. for example, my gardener (well, not mine, not of anyones, obviously) always repeats to me that of eating well and of the good example and the good vibe, repeating the same as me, but different, in his manner with his esence his taste parfume this thing that leaves smeard to mark its territory, like an animal like a dog, typing without upper cases for so many reasons. all of them lowered in cause and point with out repercusion, but with her (if i leave it it gets mad and jealous). for example, to do it faster (typing). letting the keys and the fingers dance themselves (fucking metaphor trade marc lame).period. right there so it looks pretty, there alone shinning without being touched without being loved. how tragic, but it is just that sometimes i forget what i was talking about. for being a pot-head its obvious and like from the cliche, butts ok, i repeat the same, i understand my reality (sounds like an excuse, but like everything, sometimes it is and sometimes not). and it is that right? that some see it one way and they want to change you, and you have to defend yourself. well, you dont have to, its like sometimes its the natural thing, not the esencial, its more like the forces that pull and push. and that even slip and trip sometimes, they escape run away with no explication without telling where they go and without leaving a message. but all sons are the same right? well, not all of them, hehe 'without cliche, just obvious'. i repeat everything so many times that im afraid to end up crazy, but i think thats why i dont end up, or maybe im already up there. where do you put the line, and when do you jump it, what do you paint it with and better ignore it, it only takes up time/space, leave it in oblivion with all those well learned things and leave em and surf em, but why should i tell you, dont listen to me that im crazy and i dont know what im saying, like everybody i repeat the same over and over again, we all speak and its like we understand eachother. we dont notice that the trick is in the mind and not in this little things that come out typing when my fingers (fucking fingers danc..., i dont use the metaphor cause it would be obvious cliche). we notice the many details and little shits, and that is problem, but its also the why (and the how come whom is who) of all technology, explication? why not? i have my teories, like all of us, and i believe them and i enjoy them, if you like em fine, if not trow them in the trash, wanna make some cash? fine and if you share cool if not fine, fine, fine, whats not fine is that voyager is over. cant fucking believe it ended!!!! how cool, the last episode was...fucking awesome! like butter, i love it, all that with the space ship through strange space all over the place and the liberal leftwing messages, and all the esppppppppppecial efffffffffffects, and the comercials, whom like voyager arrived on earth and its over. just the series, later comes the 'enterprise'--everyone says the same, even me, that how cool that before spock when the federation forms. really how cool, im dying to see it, im just skeptic. or deseptikon, i have my shirt and all with the transformers symbol, the badguys one, only the head that looks like a tigers, purplewithbule, my favorite color (or like the british--colour), and of many other people, hehe, aparently. ive had my hair purple for some months now, like six or seven or 6 or 7. well, it has changed, it started blue then green then white then grey then violet then/and(that means two colors at the same time) shinny white then just shinny white and now continuosly fluctuating from purple to gradualy white, but with the dark brown growing at the roots. a true piece of art, thats crazy, now its on the phase that it looks like feathers, thats rare and it only lasts like 5-6 days, but later it turns all blond and crazy, and thats when the girls shake all their feathers and if theyre not in their 7 days (a fucking macho pig afterall) well they get all available, so i take it easy. always trying to meet new people, interesting and that understands me, the other doesnt even want to be with me, so why bother. the people-the other, always talking about that one that doesnt exist that who looks at you and says all the things you dont say and does the things that you dont, that whom judges you and gets mad at you, tells you what to do and abandons you in oblivion and loves you and leaves you and crusifies you and if this were true god is the neighbor himself and mymind telling me not to be so bad and to fill me with morals and ethics, puaj, hehe. and thats how i find how to justify everything i say and think. let me if i dont believe in god, leave me to go to hell, let me die and leave me if i kill myself, with euthanasia, or the death penalty or if the abortion or if they hit you in the streets with a bullet or a fucking dude that convinces you of i dont know what puts you in his/her car corrupts you gives you drugs rapesyou lets leaves you all fucked up puttingfusjtforputifuleathewordss;;;sbuttgoandstartingalloverfromcero again and try to notice the colors of all this fucking things that they talk about in the news and in the papers. if you want to educate yourself live life and log on the internet, that has work forme fine. fuck yourself up, break you clavicule on the garage with leaves lying on the floor that the maid hadnt picked up, and my mom that loves me took me to the hospital and thaught me, again and again, that all is all and love is nothing, together we always form that unexpected combination of short discussions, long (supercoolprofound) talks, few but important hugs, and many i loveyous and very nice and pretty right?all in the family is lucky having had it, but that i know ive learned well and its stays in obvlivion, or in mind, but with out thinking is that really does what it has to do (well, doesnt have). which are many things, security, the devil in the shoulder and all the prejudging thats that and break you. but later inspire you and open the doors and with all the force i wrote a poem, which i dedicated to mi mom, for taking me to the hospital, and for all of it, for buying me the monitor, why the fuck do i want god or devil if theyre two steps away, later i dont know so i better enjoy now, obviously. and the balance is that i dont let anybody tell me what to do but i do with my head with no fear to say fuck/stupid things. i also love cartoons, i dont believe they have more truth or wisdom that everything else in these dimensions in phase and sincopated , giving flavour to life. and thats also fresh and cool. to enjoy and just lie around. i wanna be trunks. i already have the purple hair, and sometimes it gets all blonde and i transform into a supersayin, and yes, if (in spanish if and yes are si(if+yes=si)o algo asi) i were gay i would be in love with trunks, and in love with bulma his mom so its ok. but since ima man, hehe, i better look like trunks. all this shit sounded edipal but nope, really/seriously, theyre the words the forces of the devil pulling, hehe, im crazy but not traumatized , and i have a healthy sexual life, a little narcisissistic, but from this/that point doesnt look so bad. i like me meeting people and me myself at the same time and/or space and that with love and all, but careful, that nobodys a jackass, or are they, not me. ive been then ive been made one i am jack from fight club and this is my ass so hit me as hard as you can with a kamehameha. that what i wanted to say. did you know that a king in hawaii was named that way, i dont know if it has any relation with master rushis energy ball, but its like the analogy and the metaphor take things from one to the other and later you dont remember where you started or where you finished, and that is the problem, and the trick trip. all of us leaving our marc and our hairs everywhere. i love movies, of science fiction, with plot and with effects, with music and with secrets, with riddles and subliminal messages, that if i catch them theyre more fun, if not, like me, like everyone, complete theyre mission and do what theyve got to do. like forrest gump, stupid is as stupid does, of course. obviously. things are/do what they do and what they cause. if you understand by context, and the words are just things that we use like keys with fingers dancing (fuckingshit!!!) and later we forget and thats what theyre for, so theyre there and we use them ***a helicopter just flew by, just thought you should know*** and im listening to ride my bicycle from queen, i love it and i know it, like many others and i sing it in my car and i like that. in my car thinking, deciding in all aspects, 'directing traffic', that important decision, that changes your life and then you remember and tell everyone; well in the car miles (that in spanish is thousands), of life and death in all aspects and all dimensions, short term and the ones that follow and change and remind me of everything that i have well recorded and learned. in my car i go like a satelite burning through the sky at the speed of light, that one i stole from the next track thats even better: but not fast, its more like im always going slow and careful, i hope im not analretentive, that from this point it doesnt look so ugly, like phil hartman, that died, very funny, and his wife killed him. crazy isnt it, thats what they say. but the truth is that i go fast, and then i break and stop and acelerate all the time. and my life is like my music, analogically. and thas fresh, to get lost in the music without words withno ideas ideologies nothingbuthe music, with all of its notes back there stealth, with its history there giving it context, its physics afirming all its existence, they joy well is so free and few that why loose time talking saying the samething over and over again to all without being understood, if you can say not nothing. notice that and you can say anything, even that youre bi-sexual and its just fine ok, that if they notice and find out and they judge you there are worst things, that sounds like a bad movie, that one with the walls that talk with cher in hbo, but what the fuck, we all fuck at least i do it with all and all, in all aspects and all dimensions, having good sense for interpretation, please, that im crazy not a jack ass or sickinthehead, not even crazy, i only say im an ass, kamehameha. and like goku i want to be, with a pure heart to fly in the flying nimbus, or how was it called in spanish? or in japanese? does it matter? it matters a lot but nothing else matters. and viceversa, given the case. on that cloud (nimbus), so many analogies and metaphors, anyways, imagine them now. i just finished a cd, with 17 or 18 or seven teen or eight tin, but really fifteen, that means 15, what happened is that i forgot how many and while i checked i made a little time with this, hehe. its called 'happy but sad', its so cool, send me your address and i send it to you, listen to it and do of it whatever you like/want, my art my music from me free to all earth to me for me, how selfish, thats whay i give away my music. i burn the cds, do the art on the cd sleeve, i print them out in my printer and with that glossy photo paper they even look better that those ugly things from the factory. i give them out in the club and where ever, leave my email so they tell me if they love it or if they hate it, put nobody e.t. phone home :{ butits ok, that im my most faithful listener and how lame, ive heard that one before. but there are people who understand and other that dont, and ive heard that one too, and that one before, i said ive heard it, again. ive heard. theyre the voices in my head, or better yet the muse kissing my in the back of it, with the cigarrete and all (although i dont smoke), like the oil paint that i painting with oil painted that green guy with purple, inspired and there sitting smearing the letters, like when i was a boy(wasabe wassup wacamole for another poem) with the soup of pasta. only that the spoon is all/nothing and the pasta is nothing\all. in my mouth, which is for kissing, which is so rich and cool, and like everything right? it has to be tender but firm, like fibi said in friends, that crazy bitch that i like, i dont know, isnt that the point of those sitcoms, that you identify and that you watch them? but in context of culture how can you hate tv, hate the jack asses that i dont know? dont hate, better, well, better hate, dont listen to me. those idealists, so fucking angry and so sure, they remind me of the cops. and if we were to leave us all alone would it be different, of course not, its different anyways, only move change and death and resucitate, do fucking something fucking shit!!! that if it isnt us whom change the earth thenwho? well just by itself all alone right? and dont remind me so much, that like that alone by itself is that is works and does what it has to do. this so crazy generation and so left alone, dont you/they see? and what if it ends? its also not a tragedy that my battery runs out and that we all die out and that the earth ends. but then later comes jose, or better yet cirino(the gardener) and puts some new earth for the plants and feeds the dog, feeds sonny. loyal dog inteligent labrador hairy that sees the ball and runs and kisses and doesnt do anything else but to be beautiful without barking and biting, that if he was my best friend i would feel a man, but never have i believed that shit with the dog and the friend and the man, better yet the cat. and the pussies. hehe. everyone enjoying the party in peace, and when the war arrives we fuck each other up, and we smoke two joints, the one from the toys, that song in inglish, spanish and french, the one from the wise rastafaris, i dont even know what they are so dont believe me nothing, that i dont know anything. only the stupid things i see on tv. and i say the same fucking things i hear in songs and i repeat the same crazy things they tell me and my teachers repeatme and my friends, whom are like the words 'why' and 'is', and why is it that i see things so ugly, and so pretty and so crazy and serious. binary, but in a way that it can do what/where/who/with/whom ever you want, and say what ever you want. like a computer, this shit stuck to me myself i made it, like a bionic arm but more interesting, like a pool filled with electricity and posibilities (thats from a comercial). that computers this and computers that, they do what they do and if you dont notice that theyre like plants and like the lenguage, they evolve too and those backwards delays/echos/reverbs that are heard in science, and maybe also in fiction. the movie of kubric/speilberg/renassance/dream_of_all_starwars_fanatic were gonna like that one with the artificial intelligence. buttititees like everything, interesting and leaves and opens so many doors and inspires so much/many that it makes me cry, but to scream and to run but better yet write and compose. and paint, there waits for me one empty white canvas a lot of white paint and green with yellow. that later when i feel all like a bee with my little mouth with honey in my brush smearing this white sheet in blank standing in this stand blinking and renewing that which i do day by day, so when i fill my room i buy a house and the one market and a warehouse and the horizon always stays there, standing waiting for them to catch up. walking that its classic, like in that movie where lifes a bitch (amores perros), at the end with the old guy, it looked ugly the horizon, but i bet you it smelled like shit, mmmmmmmmh. theres nothing better for the plants so they get all pretty and with flowers and with leaves and doors, pdrrrrrrrfff, that one sucked!! i fix it later... but if it stinks and sucks, stinky you fix it and notice that you dont have all the keys and that later it changes and that you have to do like the borg, adapt! adapt! adapt! i will not comply! that seven of mine(9) is the crazy cybernetic dream that is matrix cero one, to me all those things type matrix type keanu in the computer and all those crazy things that we are all conected in the internet and all those programers and genieus of the desk/top, broken up by acids and aminoacids, and im rhyming like am on acid, withno sense for poetry and does a poem and its finished. tan tan. and that is the problem , to know when/how to finish and how/when to start, but if you notice time is that. i was in the schools restroom and read in the wall 'time is calibrated eternity', and the another wrote 'time is money', and then another wrote (like that on consecutive days, fucking smile peeing) 'time doesnt exist'(or was it something else?), and i notice and i listen, but dont convince me all in all, so i take what i want and the other what the fuck, keep it, that it does you good, that i saw it and its true. like that reverse psicology works, with yourself if you let you, isnt it is obvious, but if you are a jack ass and stupid it does. the case is that time is the same, surf it and leave it in obvlibion, that alone youve learned to see what time it is and all of the calendar and fuck off, how is it that time doesnt exist dont we not say it over and over again. its only that it doesnt do what it says, but what it does, like that all subliminal it escapes and if youre stupid ass leaves you there thinking what you did? what will i do? and it doesnt leave you do anything, talk like you want or resume what you were doing. and for that death, and the word and, that when i use it so much i finished like ing it, even though its my favourite , that and the e and la x and la eme and without fucking yourself up, with the mind/body healthy sane sonny songs suns that i take everyday when i can and i run and i do abs and i try to look like trunks and spiderman, with dexter inside and goku flying on his flying nimbus, with gohan behind that sometime i will be a father too, and if i dont understand now myself how is it that i will understand my music my words and my cabeza, someday all organized but just as crazy, just as organized but even crazyier, fucking nuts and with the computer and the muse on my fore/back/butthead, kissing me and making me love. that besides fucking and fucker sometimes is pretty with love, with everything else. because ive lived it before and because its scary to do it again. but with no fear its not worth it, the bungee, the red eye, and all those who wanna die. i like em, they amaze me, i watch them on tv and inspire me to leavem smeared in a good song. and those who get married (with or w/o children) and kill, from a bridge, like in the movie with downey jr. and the guy whom is always smoking weed (but calls it cannabis), the one that stared with that black dude that thought he was a vampire, like brad and tom, all beauty and conflictive, all femenine and thinking romantic but with violence and blades and taste of blood on the lips between the absorbing teeth, leaving its binary marck, dont i tell you, one way orf another, like the internet and the servers, connected and recipients, of all of our dreams and our business our destinys and i dont know what other shit that they always repeat in the tv and the movies. the technology has its relation with the organic and metallica and if you choose to divide plats in kingdoms. wellitsok, give it names and say that the correct manner to speak is the proper. but the stormtrooper gets tired with all the politically correct and all the lies and all the shit that feeds the plants and fires up the deathstar. that salinas excaped with all the money, like cartman who always only wanted money, like my uncle that grabs on to all the things produced by money, good and bad and the ugly, he knows it. money is as money does what its got to do too, its just that like cocaine and heroine, better ignore them and dont try them, not out of fear, but because there are things that dont like and cause tommy ache, to fix it and reproduce the means of pruduction, fuckingwise altusser. well known and learned what he says and keeps telling me with these things i read. its just that if you fuck (up) something up to the point where it doesnt fuck anymore why the fuck? that what the computer is for, to repeat all those loops like the/that song the things that are too much for us, and like simbionts, like the mediclorians of quigonyin, giving you force, to lift stons and rocs from the mud with yoda reminding repeating you and telling you the same so you learn byourself and go into the cave. and discover that your dad is darthvader and you are inside and everything changes and teaches you that when you met your dad there in the plaza lalameda it was like starwars. you with your green light and him with the red saber, we shared the bullet on the roof from pancho villa or one of those. with bull balls the cerveza the tequila alo mexicano, in the historic center of mexico city. and after falling and screaming through that tunnel, the millenium falcon, with lea and lando and the wookie and the androids. like that poem in the forum that inspired me too, like all, doing the same, so repetitive that tires but gives meaning and does what we cant do with the help contact with everything else. its only that lea +the princesstarwars+ is my brother mar and we dont notice that we are twins but different, like cuates, best friends without thinking and itall butok, if he leaves me and i let him, like all brothers and the example the other the one (a)cross(ing) the street where the grass looks greener and more crazy. with no envy no decipt with enigma theres secrets when you answer when you want and when you dont well you stay quiet. like that comfy alone or withyou or with no(every)body. on the beach with out time existing, repeating the same but different, crying on my bed because nobody wants and nobody loves me. shit in my mind sudden drop, but if you notice is not so sudden and later you learn and dont even have to think about it, alone then cures faster if you notice how it works. have you seen that blue angel that intrigues and tires and its like everything in the forum, in the internet? the one with poetry where everybody gives themselves strange names and kindatell where they live and leave it there all smeared of esence, filled up with terabites and gigahertzs of ceros and ones, that it starts to get old right? and like all midi messages, there are one hundred twenti seven or 127, and if you start from cero finish on 127, and if you start with 1 or one, you finish on one hundred twentee eight, then there are 128 midi mesagges and not 127? or isit 128, it is just that cero is cero and the absolute is cero is one, and if youre mayan its twenty and if its seven your favourit number how boring and if it is eight well fuck8, and if im saying crazyness is because im all fucked up. im all bent up cause i broke my clavicule, cause surfing the assfalt like crazy, all agile and crazy that fucking story that i keep saying over and over. and its already morning that ivebeen typing all night with all my forces and philosophing that thats what i like/want and what fucks me up, every day is a blanco page/monitor, sounds like a cliche but not so much. so i feel all crazy and thats bad, but later it goes away, like everything, like my mom keeps telling me, be good get good get some ass, not the one of erzbeth who/whom loves to say ass, and jack ass that is so funny with the guy eating shit, and its all oh! 'k'. reminds me of my brother, the metaphor in the restroom with no paper and the vomit of the (hi)story, that its context and thats why its intelligent, knowing it not to be an ass, but because im crazy, and it opens doors and learn, and if you squeeze all the juice out of the book the photon the atom molecule mat/hemp/atics social school. how bor(g)ing. its summer, how strange and its just like vivaldis movement, analog and if you let it and if you notice that music is like the tree like life and how you describe every thing you say. let the words loose their meaning and dont be so frequent, that it gets tired, and it makes me sleepy, and i/it get/s so old and with spiderwebs waliking on them and singing ska. i have a thousand(miles) of things to say, millions of ways to say it and gugolplexes of dimensions to change and surf and master/teacher, so i dont force it and leave some for later, that today has been enough, efficient, withno cliche, only obvious, repetitive but with the force(s), that like that they and if they change and does things that noone has seen to live, cause its interesting, and if you leave me i repeat and continue, and if you tell me to shut up i let you, with all my craziyness, and my music and my poetry and fucking everything, that if i notice theyre all fucked up well learned and done and misinterpreted, like all, with out understand(ing) me you, alone, in my room, happy but sad, listening to my cd, that if you want i send it free whereeverenever: guasamandr@macias-group.com


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Offlinegnrm23
Carpal Tunnel
Registered: 08/30/99
Posts: 6,481
Loc: n. e. OH, USSA
Last seen: 2 months, 26 days
Re: comercial [Re: guasamandra]
    #467887 - 11/24/01 12:36 AM (15 years, 17 days ago)

i used to like dexedrine once in a while...


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old enough to know better
not old enough to care


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Anonymous

Re: comercial [Re: guasamandra]
    #467992 - 11/24/01 02:06 AM (15 years, 17 days ago)

wowa...


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InvisibleChronicPride
Opening my boxof meows

Registered: 11/27/00
Posts: 304
Loc: Seoul, South Korea
Re: comercial [Re: guasamandra]
    #467995 - 11/24/01 02:12 AM (15 years, 17 days ago)

Kick ass...I'll take two of everything


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At this stage of human evolution,the truth about the meaning of life is too unattainably simple for us to comprehend,as contemporary thought is too bogged down with the notion that the answer to the riddle is so elusively complex. - Tonya Harding.


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Invisibletak
geo's henchman
Male User Gallery

Folding@home Statistics
Registered: 11/21/00
Posts: 3,758
Loc: nowhereland
Re: comercial [Re: ChronicPride]
    #468134 - 11/24/01 07:13 AM (15 years, 17 days ago)

tomorrow im going to read this....about 1 page in i was liek whoa he typed a full page thats alot, then down...whoa a little more what a type...little more wow, he is shrooming? isnt he?, little more holy shit, little more....i dont stop now, fuckkkkkkk will it ever end??!?!??!?! then i see hte comments. :] ill be back


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The DJ's took pills to stay awake and play for seven days.


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InvisibleJenny
part of thewhole
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Registered: 06/03/00
Posts: 5,614
Loc: Columbus, OHIO
Re: comercial [Re: guasamandra]
    #468303 - 11/24/01 01:04 PM (15 years, 17 days ago)

haha. that was long.

if you space and make paragraphs, its loads easier for us to read :)


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Mindfulness is the aware, balanced acceptance of the present experience.
It isn't more complicated than that.
It is opening to or recieving the present moment, pleasant or unpleasant, just as it is,
without either clinging to it or rejecting it.


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OfflineJammer
Computers areMORE Addictive!

Registered: 11/05/00
Posts: 3,998
Loc: (God's Country) - USA
Last seen: 11 years, 2 months
Re: comercial [Re: guasamandra]
    #468506 - 11/24/01 06:32 PM (15 years, 16 days ago)

HOLY SHIT!!!!!!!!!!

Congratts man!!

From the looks off it....

YOU HAVE JUST SET THE ALL TIME SHROOMERY RECORD FOR THE LONGEST PARAGRAPH WITHOUT ANY CAPS!!

Anyone care to dispute this finding?

(*grin*)





--------------------
>>Jammer>>


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Offlineguasamandra
Stranger

Registered: 11/23/01
Posts: 4
Last seen: 14 years, 10 months
Re: comercial [Re: Jammer]
    #472461 - 11/28/01 04:48 PM (15 years, 12 days ago)

ok, it is long, but did anyone read it? just curious.

leon


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Anonymous

Re: comercial [Re: guasamandra]
    #472798 - 11/28/01 09:21 PM (15 years, 12 days ago)

I read it... you going to e-mail me back?


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InvisibleUlysees
Power of Lard

Registered: 10/06/01
Posts: 5,060
Re: comercial [Re: Anonymous]
    #472804 - 11/28/01 09:27 PM (15 years, 12 days ago)

I haven't tackled this bad boy yet... so far all I've done is scrolled up and down, up and down... prettyyyy. ;)


--------------------


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Offlineguasamandra
Stranger

Registered: 11/23/01
Posts: 4
Last seen: 14 years, 10 months
Re: comercial [Re: Anonymous]
    #472915 - 11/28/01 10:56 PM (15 years, 12 days ago)

of course smack, i just been kind'a busy, but i'll send you the cd and tell what kind of music it is. see you around.

leon


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Offlineease3RT0
Stranger
Registered: 11/28/01
Posts: 16
Last seen: 13 years, 8 months
Re: comercial [Re: guasamandra]
    #472919 - 11/28/01 11:01 PM (15 years, 12 days ago)

How far thru your trip did you start to write that? And when did you stop? And how hard were you trippin'?
That is a mighty long - but none-the-less interesting "paragraph" you wrote!
WoW


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