Many non residents went to Loth and helped today. It would seem that's been happening for a week. It was a good thing to do, even if all I did was mostly put books into box's.
Somebody asked me if I knew any people from the old days, and on Loth's facebook page is a comment by a girl named Alice Ogden-Nussbaum. Her dad's name is Mitch, he lived in Loth in 1979, as did her mother, Genie. I have not seen them since then, but I remember them being people who cared about the well being of the house.
The house has a huge collection of books, many of them being books that were simply left there when their previous owner's moved away. Now I know why people get degree's in Library Science, a serious librarian would probably cull a lot of those books. All those books have to go into box's and into storage while the house is rehabilitated.
There are a few things I can help them move, will help them move, and a couple of moving tools I own that will be very handy for doing it. Experience really helps when moving a piano, and I've moved a number of them.
This fellow who was breaking up discarded furniture in the drop box outside borrowed my sledge hammer for a little while, and he broke it. I told him how to put a new handle into it, but I will fix it myself. If he gives me a new handle for it tomorrow, I'll use it, but I expect to buy one myself. Fascinating fellow, he's a writer, he could teach me so much. Many of the members are really interesting folks. I wonder if they realize what an extraordinary group they are? Probably not. When I lived in Bag End none of us thought we were anything special, either individually, or as a group. If I'm exceptionally fortunate, they'll let me share their company for a couple of years.
Thursday, September 19, 2013
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
How long does such an investigation take?
The very first place I ever lived in Madison, is a place on Lake Mendota about 3 blocks from the Memorial Union. It caught fire recently. In order for the insurance company to proceed with fixing the damage, the fire department has to finish their investigation into the cause. There are many things in life I've never cared about, such an investigation is on that list. Since I'd like to live there again, all of a sudden it's interesting. So far, as of mid day today, no public announcement.
My interest in this place started a couple of weeks ago. For some odd reason, a thought flashed through my mind, I wonder if I could get into Loth? So, I drove over to the neighborhood, parked, and rang the doorbell. This kid came to the door and took me to the kitchen where I met about 4 people who said come to dinner on Thursday, so I did, and that started the process of coming to a total of 3 dinners. After the 3 dinners they have a house meeting, and decide if somebody can live there or not. I was all set to attend the 3rd dinner and got an email from the house saying they'd had a fire and to get back to them in 3 to 6 months.
The more I've thought of it, in spite of the changes I'd have to make to my life, the more attractive the idea of living there has become. And the more attractive living within a few blocks of campus has become. I'd REALLY love to walk down to the Union with this laptop in a bag, sit at a table in the 2nd floor reading room, plug it in, and write.
What was Loth like when I lived there before?
There were a couple of Iranian's who lived there, a brother and sister. They came from a privileged family, part of the Shah of Iran's aristocracy. These days if you said Shah of Iran, most people would say, WHO? Back then, there was this guy called the Shah who pretty much ran Iran, he was buddies with the American military, and the middle east was a fairly quiet place. The sister attended East High School, I don't recall her name. The brother was a Math major at the university who claimed he was a Marxist revolutionary. He lead Marxist study groups, and went around the house demanding new people attend these study groups. I told him I wasn't interested, and he told me he'd see to it that people wouldn't like me as a result of my refusal to attend.
My thinking then was their parents shipped them off to the United States, to prevent the Shah's secret police from making them disappear for being anti government. I'll bet the guy is a big shot at an American insurance company or something like that these days. He should be just getting ready to retire. I wonder if he's ever told his colleges at work about his Marxist study groups? Probably not.
I recall a little of a single Loth house meeting. The primary issue was noise and partying. There was this guy from up north someplace who was small, about 5' 5". He liked playing the music loud and throwing parties that mostly only he came to, in the living room. There was a guy who lived directly upstairs from the living room who was tall, well over 6', and he objected to the noise keeping him awake. The little guy claimed that unless the music was obnoxiously loud he couldn't have a good time. I don't recall a result. And this has brought back a number of Co-op memories that I haven't thought about in many many years.
The first time I ever seriously shared a room was in North Campus Co-ops, in a house called Bag End. I shared a room with a fellow from St. Louis named Rob Tanaka for a year. We were the odd couple for sure, he was a 4.0 student, and I had a job and wasn't a student. He lived in the bottom bunk and I lived in the top, and we were pretty good friends. The houses in North Campus were set up in 4 halls, each hall had 2 singles and 2 doubles, room selection was on the basis of seniority. Now that I think of it, there were 2 housemates I should have married while I had the chance. A lady from New Mexico named Sue, and a conducting major (music) named Doug. All in all, the finest group of people it's ever been my privilege to share a building with. The bathrobe Doug gave me for Christmas finally self destructed a couple of years ago, I failed to read the hint into the gift at the time.
Xanadu had a huge living room that adjoined a big dining room, and was a huge open dance floor when the ICC Halloween party was held there every year. These were big parties, 100's of people would show up. Not long after one Halloween a fellow showed up at a house meeting who wanted to throw for profit beer parties, he was a friend of somebody. Steve Lurie spoke most eloquently and his words came back to me when I was remembering that Loth house meeting over the living room parties mentioned above. Steve said, "This is my home!" He went on to say a lot about he didn't want drunks doing what drunks do where ever in our house, but the "This is my home!" comes back to me over and over. First, last, and always, it's home. Needless to say, we did not approve those for profit beer parties. And Xanadu was a home, 364 days of the year, with the exception of Halloween. We had no choice about that either, it was decreed by the ICC (Inter-Cooperative Council).
I now feel remiss about that Loth house meeting of years ago, but it's consistent with me in a house meeting. I should have stood up and been counted and sided with the tall fellow who wanted to be able to sleep. At house meetings I usually avoid taking a side or a stand, as it's not worth somebody not liking me.
My interest in this place started a couple of weeks ago. For some odd reason, a thought flashed through my mind, I wonder if I could get into Loth? So, I drove over to the neighborhood, parked, and rang the doorbell. This kid came to the door and took me to the kitchen where I met about 4 people who said come to dinner on Thursday, so I did, and that started the process of coming to a total of 3 dinners. After the 3 dinners they have a house meeting, and decide if somebody can live there or not. I was all set to attend the 3rd dinner and got an email from the house saying they'd had a fire and to get back to them in 3 to 6 months.
The more I've thought of it, in spite of the changes I'd have to make to my life, the more attractive the idea of living there has become. And the more attractive living within a few blocks of campus has become. I'd REALLY love to walk down to the Union with this laptop in a bag, sit at a table in the 2nd floor reading room, plug it in, and write.
What was Loth like when I lived there before?
There were a couple of Iranian's who lived there, a brother and sister. They came from a privileged family, part of the Shah of Iran's aristocracy. These days if you said Shah of Iran, most people would say, WHO? Back then, there was this guy called the Shah who pretty much ran Iran, he was buddies with the American military, and the middle east was a fairly quiet place. The sister attended East High School, I don't recall her name. The brother was a Math major at the university who claimed he was a Marxist revolutionary. He lead Marxist study groups, and went around the house demanding new people attend these study groups. I told him I wasn't interested, and he told me he'd see to it that people wouldn't like me as a result of my refusal to attend.
My thinking then was their parents shipped them off to the United States, to prevent the Shah's secret police from making them disappear for being anti government. I'll bet the guy is a big shot at an American insurance company or something like that these days. He should be just getting ready to retire. I wonder if he's ever told his colleges at work about his Marxist study groups? Probably not.
I recall a little of a single Loth house meeting. The primary issue was noise and partying. There was this guy from up north someplace who was small, about 5' 5". He liked playing the music loud and throwing parties that mostly only he came to, in the living room. There was a guy who lived directly upstairs from the living room who was tall, well over 6', and he objected to the noise keeping him awake. The little guy claimed that unless the music was obnoxiously loud he couldn't have a good time. I don't recall a result. And this has brought back a number of Co-op memories that I haven't thought about in many many years.
The first time I ever seriously shared a room was in North Campus Co-ops, in a house called Bag End. I shared a room with a fellow from St. Louis named Rob Tanaka for a year. We were the odd couple for sure, he was a 4.0 student, and I had a job and wasn't a student. He lived in the bottom bunk and I lived in the top, and we were pretty good friends. The houses in North Campus were set up in 4 halls, each hall had 2 singles and 2 doubles, room selection was on the basis of seniority. Now that I think of it, there were 2 housemates I should have married while I had the chance. A lady from New Mexico named Sue, and a conducting major (music) named Doug. All in all, the finest group of people it's ever been my privilege to share a building with. The bathrobe Doug gave me for Christmas finally self destructed a couple of years ago, I failed to read the hint into the gift at the time.
Xanadu had a huge living room that adjoined a big dining room, and was a huge open dance floor when the ICC Halloween party was held there every year. These were big parties, 100's of people would show up. Not long after one Halloween a fellow showed up at a house meeting who wanted to throw for profit beer parties, he was a friend of somebody. Steve Lurie spoke most eloquently and his words came back to me when I was remembering that Loth house meeting over the living room parties mentioned above. Steve said, "This is my home!" He went on to say a lot about he didn't want drunks doing what drunks do where ever in our house, but the "This is my home!" comes back to me over and over. First, last, and always, it's home. Needless to say, we did not approve those for profit beer parties. And Xanadu was a home, 364 days of the year, with the exception of Halloween. We had no choice about that either, it was decreed by the ICC (Inter-Cooperative Council).
I now feel remiss about that Loth house meeting of years ago, but it's consistent with me in a house meeting. I should have stood up and been counted and sided with the tall fellow who wanted to be able to sleep. At house meetings I usually avoid taking a side or a stand, as it's not worth somebody not liking me.
Sunday, September 15, 2013
Is this the answer to my question of the last few posts?
13 or 14 years ago, I met an internet predator. Yes, unfortunately I met this monster in person. What was this person like, and what happened to him/her. Him/her? Yes. On the internet and even here in person, this man claimed the identity of a woman. A caricature for sure. I'd be willing to bet that those silicon injection breasts are a real health hazard by now.
Now, after looking this he/she biker up on the internet I find he/she was the subject of a restraining order in 2001. The petitioner was his/her (I don't want to get sued but look that person up and see what she does for a living). He paid everybody who ever helped him out by crapping on them.
This guy was a biker, complete with biker ink. He was a very small man, about 5'6". The biker logo tattoo on his right shoulder was covered with white tattoo ink, but you could tell it was an over painting job. When he came here, somebody he'd been staying with in Texas drove him here, and dropped him off at the door. I suspect they were delighted to be rid of him, and since he was gone they were spared any further troubles from him. He spent a lot of time on the internet looking for his next victim, but it was too close in time, he couldn't find anybody quickly enough to move directly on to a next victim from here. Where was he, last I knew? In Florida living with his mother.
Where was he a biker? Miami, Florida so he claimed. Did he speak of violence like you see on TV? Yes, he spoke of beatings, crime, and all kinds of delightful stuff. Was that a club you can't really quit? Yes it was. Where was he from originally? Boston. Was his name really Willow? Nope. He never changed his name. On his drivers license it said William Richard X III. X? Yes, I'll leave it to anybody with enough ambition to fill in that X with the real last name, but given the modern internet it's an easy X to fill back in. What was his relationship with his bike club? I'm pretty sure they'd love to find him to this day, but I don't know and don't care.
All I know is here he took great delight in causing as much trouble as he could, all the time. Once he was gone, I breathed a sigh of relief, and went on with my life, and mostly forgot about it. I'm sure he was hoping a judge would award him possession of my apartment, with me responsible for the rent and utilities, it didn't work out that way. The judge gave him a day to pick up his things, and he came and picked them up that day. The end. Until now. If people want to discriminate against me in housing because of this, there is nothing I can do about it. All I can do is say, I'd forgotten about the whole thing until I started researching me on the internet and it's one of the reasons I keep to myself and am VERY CAREFUL about who I accept as friends.
Now, after looking this he/she biker up on the internet I find he/she was the subject of a restraining order in 2001. The petitioner was his/her (I don't want to get sued but look that person up and see what she does for a living). He paid everybody who ever helped him out by crapping on them.
This guy was a biker, complete with biker ink. He was a very small man, about 5'6". The biker logo tattoo on his right shoulder was covered with white tattoo ink, but you could tell it was an over painting job. When he came here, somebody he'd been staying with in Texas drove him here, and dropped him off at the door. I suspect they were delighted to be rid of him, and since he was gone they were spared any further troubles from him. He spent a lot of time on the internet looking for his next victim, but it was too close in time, he couldn't find anybody quickly enough to move directly on to a next victim from here. Where was he, last I knew? In Florida living with his mother.
Where was he a biker? Miami, Florida so he claimed. Did he speak of violence like you see on TV? Yes, he spoke of beatings, crime, and all kinds of delightful stuff. Was that a club you can't really quit? Yes it was. Where was he from originally? Boston. Was his name really Willow? Nope. He never changed his name. On his drivers license it said William Richard X III. X? Yes, I'll leave it to anybody with enough ambition to fill in that X with the real last name, but given the modern internet it's an easy X to fill back in. What was his relationship with his bike club? I'm pretty sure they'd love to find him to this day, but I don't know and don't care.
All I know is here he took great delight in causing as much trouble as he could, all the time. Once he was gone, I breathed a sigh of relief, and went on with my life, and mostly forgot about it. I'm sure he was hoping a judge would award him possession of my apartment, with me responsible for the rent and utilities, it didn't work out that way. The judge gave him a day to pick up his things, and he came and picked them up that day. The end. Until now. If people want to discriminate against me in housing because of this, there is nothing I can do about it. All I can do is say, I'd forgotten about the whole thing until I started researching me on the internet and it's one of the reasons I keep to myself and am VERY CAREFUL about who I accept as friends.
Saturday, September 14, 2013
I wonder what the truth really is
That building really looks bad. Once again I decided to ask Fast Eddie what he thought. Should I simply forget that place or perhaps wait for something that's worth waiting for.
His brother Junior was there, so I got a chance to talk to him too. Junior used to drive cab, that's where the name is from, he's only Junior in the context of cab driving. He claimed that the building would get fixed in a few weeks unless the insurance company contests the claim. How does he figure? There are a lot of out of work people, a contractor will put as many as 20 people a day on the job, and it will finish fast.
The place continues to advertise for people, and the advertisement says fall semester which is consistent with what Junior was saying. They told me to get back to them in 3 to 6 months, but that was really quickly after the fire. So, I wonder.
Are they just putting me off? In 3 to 6 months I will have moved somewhere, forgotten about them, and the problem of wanting somebody else, who ever comes along beside me, is solved.
This entry, as the other housing entries will self destruct when I solve my housing issue.
His brother Junior was there, so I got a chance to talk to him too. Junior used to drive cab, that's where the name is from, he's only Junior in the context of cab driving. He claimed that the building would get fixed in a few weeks unless the insurance company contests the claim. How does he figure? There are a lot of out of work people, a contractor will put as many as 20 people a day on the job, and it will finish fast.
The place continues to advertise for people, and the advertisement says fall semester which is consistent with what Junior was saying. They told me to get back to them in 3 to 6 months, but that was really quickly after the fire. So, I wonder.
Are they just putting me off? In 3 to 6 months I will have moved somewhere, forgotten about them, and the problem of wanting somebody else, who ever comes along beside me, is solved.
This entry, as the other housing entries will self destruct when I solve my housing issue.
Friday, September 13, 2013
Guess that housing option isn't going to work. Damn!
The Co-op I was looking at had a fire Tuesday night, and it really burned the building a lot. The photos on the internet this morning are really grim. The fire department is investigating, and until they're done the house is off limits to all the folks who lived there. So, even if your room didn't get burned, in the short run, you've lost everything. Tragedy!
This means I can't live there until the place is declared inhabitable by the city, and none of the others can either. Declared inhabitable? Yeah. You think you can move back in and fix the place while you live there? Nope, can't do that. You need permits and contractors and inspections, and in the mean time you need a place to stay. A nightmare for sure.
How did it happen? The fire department is investigating that. On the internet it says the fire started on an outdoor deck. It says the fire started about an hour before bar time. Surely an accident. It also says the fire department had to go back twice to finish the job because it was a very persistent fire.
My heart goes out to all the folks who lived there, and the neighbors too. The neighbors are going to suffer from the construction project to repair the place.
This means I can't live there until the place is declared inhabitable by the city, and none of the others can either. Declared inhabitable? Yeah. You think you can move back in and fix the place while you live there? Nope, can't do that. You need permits and contractors and inspections, and in the mean time you need a place to stay. A nightmare for sure.
How did it happen? The fire department is investigating that. On the internet it says the fire started on an outdoor deck. It says the fire started about an hour before bar time. Surely an accident. It also says the fire department had to go back twice to finish the job because it was a very persistent fire.
My heart goes out to all the folks who lived there, and the neighbors too. The neighbors are going to suffer from the construction project to repair the place.
Thursday, September 12, 2013
Thanks - reflection - the last house meeting
There is an entry that speaks of Xanadu, and a house meeting, I'll fill in the details. I also need to thank the people I'm writing this entry for, they've sparked some old memories that need to be remembered. What happened at that last house meeting and why.
In the fall of 1978, about a month after contracts had been signed, the ICC (the central organization) announced a budget short fall, and told everyone they'd been forced to assess everyone some amount of money. At our house, and every other no doubt, there were house meetings where the house treasurer explained this to the membership, and the membership got upset and said it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair, and probably wasn't legal either, but legal didn't matter, it was co-op business and fair was the primary concern.
I got up and told everyone that what would happen was the ICC would get the money no matter what the people in the house voted, discussed, complained or did. One day the house treasurer would announce that he'd been pressured by the division treasurer and the office people enough, and he just paid it. That is in fact what ended up happening, a few months later, after I'd moved here to Madison. The payment was retroactive, so everyone got tabbed how ever much it was, a few hundred bucks in a lump sum. The house treasurer went back to the ICC and told them that the house was resisting, like every other other house treasurer. Did I pay this assessment? Yes I did.
The ICC head man, a fellow named Luther, came to the last house meeting I attended at Xanadu. He wrung his hands, and pleaded, and the house was unmoved. The biggest obstacle was this guy named Greg who was the editor of the Michigan Daily (I'll leave Greg's last name out of this). Greg had a real sweet job lined up with the Detroit Free Press, or the Detroit News (I forget which), and he was as I was, leaving at the end of the semester. Greg was graduating and getting a job, I was moving here to Madison.
Greg was overweight, and kind of reminded us all of the character Bluto in the movie, Animal House. He danced out of the meeting, waiving his finger in the air and chanting, "I'm not gonna pay, I'm not gonna pay..."
I got up and tried to reason with the group, no dice. Luther pleaded with the group, no dice. Luther begged me to do something. I asked him what I was supposed to do, and told him I just did everything I could do.
There was no love lost between Luther and I. He liked nice placid students who didn't get involved much in the house, washed their dishes, graduated and moved on. I wasn't a student, I took responsibility in the house, and cared deeply about the house.
Now? It's someone else's turn to stand up and be counted at the house meetings. It's my turn to fix the house, and clean the house. Cooking? There are usually people who want to do that. If asked, I'd do what ever the group wanted. Does it need to be my house job for me to scrub the floor in the dining room? No, it needs to be a day when I don't have anything better to do for a couple of hours, which means I'd do it pretty quick if I was a member. What co-op job would I want? I don't care, they are all important and need to be done.
Why would I say 2 years of membership? There are places with age requirements that are real nice, and subsidized, and I've got my eye on one such place. In 2016 I'll be old enough to qualify. At that time, I'd have to ask myself real seriously if my feelings had changed, I doubt they would.
Writing? I've had writers block for a while. This exercise in asking for membership has jogged me back into wanting to say things on paper. Yea!!!! I see some good stories coming out of my checkered past. I'm not ashamed of my past, I've done a lot of really stupid things in my life, but it wasn't boring. Writing is really hard work, if you don't think so, try it.
Thanks to my father for providing me the opportunity to be a writer.
Oh yeah, why didn't I rush back into a co-op after I left Loth? Well, I did! Back then there was a place next door to a bar now called Wando's (The 602 Club back then), called the Green Lantern Eating Co-op. I joined that place, and was an influential member until I took a job working afternoons (3pm-11pm) and couldn't go there because of schedule conflict. My room mate for a few years was a fellow I knew from there named Dave Alsberg who is the guy who showed me the back door into the Univ of Wisconsin which resulted in my college career. What became of Dave? He screwed around and never got his Phd, went back to suburban New York City, got married and went to work for an insurance company as an actuary. What became of Dave after that? I don't know for sure.
In the fall of 1978, about a month after contracts had been signed, the ICC (the central organization) announced a budget short fall, and told everyone they'd been forced to assess everyone some amount of money. At our house, and every other no doubt, there were house meetings where the house treasurer explained this to the membership, and the membership got upset and said it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair, and probably wasn't legal either, but legal didn't matter, it was co-op business and fair was the primary concern.
I got up and told everyone that what would happen was the ICC would get the money no matter what the people in the house voted, discussed, complained or did. One day the house treasurer would announce that he'd been pressured by the division treasurer and the office people enough, and he just paid it. That is in fact what ended up happening, a few months later, after I'd moved here to Madison. The payment was retroactive, so everyone got tabbed how ever much it was, a few hundred bucks in a lump sum. The house treasurer went back to the ICC and told them that the house was resisting, like every other other house treasurer. Did I pay this assessment? Yes I did.
The ICC head man, a fellow named Luther, came to the last house meeting I attended at Xanadu. He wrung his hands, and pleaded, and the house was unmoved. The biggest obstacle was this guy named Greg who was the editor of the Michigan Daily (I'll leave Greg's last name out of this). Greg had a real sweet job lined up with the Detroit Free Press, or the Detroit News (I forget which), and he was as I was, leaving at the end of the semester. Greg was graduating and getting a job, I was moving here to Madison.
Greg was overweight, and kind of reminded us all of the character Bluto in the movie, Animal House. He danced out of the meeting, waiving his finger in the air and chanting, "I'm not gonna pay, I'm not gonna pay..."
I got up and tried to reason with the group, no dice. Luther pleaded with the group, no dice. Luther begged me to do something. I asked him what I was supposed to do, and told him I just did everything I could do.
There was no love lost between Luther and I. He liked nice placid students who didn't get involved much in the house, washed their dishes, graduated and moved on. I wasn't a student, I took responsibility in the house, and cared deeply about the house.
Now? It's someone else's turn to stand up and be counted at the house meetings. It's my turn to fix the house, and clean the house. Cooking? There are usually people who want to do that. If asked, I'd do what ever the group wanted. Does it need to be my house job for me to scrub the floor in the dining room? No, it needs to be a day when I don't have anything better to do for a couple of hours, which means I'd do it pretty quick if I was a member. What co-op job would I want? I don't care, they are all important and need to be done.
Why would I say 2 years of membership? There are places with age requirements that are real nice, and subsidized, and I've got my eye on one such place. In 2016 I'll be old enough to qualify. At that time, I'd have to ask myself real seriously if my feelings had changed, I doubt they would.
Writing? I've had writers block for a while. This exercise in asking for membership has jogged me back into wanting to say things on paper. Yea!!!! I see some good stories coming out of my checkered past. I'm not ashamed of my past, I've done a lot of really stupid things in my life, but it wasn't boring. Writing is really hard work, if you don't think so, try it.
Thanks to my father for providing me the opportunity to be a writer.
Oh yeah, why didn't I rush back into a co-op after I left Loth? Well, I did! Back then there was a place next door to a bar now called Wando's (The 602 Club back then), called the Green Lantern Eating Co-op. I joined that place, and was an influential member until I took a job working afternoons (3pm-11pm) and couldn't go there because of schedule conflict. My room mate for a few years was a fellow I knew from there named Dave Alsberg who is the guy who showed me the back door into the Univ of Wisconsin which resulted in my college career. What became of Dave? He screwed around and never got his Phd, went back to suburban New York City, got married and went to work for an insurance company as an actuary. What became of Dave after that? I don't know for sure.
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
A new home
I'm looking at a new place to live, and they're looking at me. What to say about it? It's what I wanted when I moved here a long time ago. I said in writing I was only interested in about 2 years. Why would I want it now, and why only 2 years.
2 years first. There are some very nice places to live in this town that have restrictions on how old you have to be to live in them. I have the place I want picked out, and I'll be the right age in a couple of years. Nicer as the place downtown is, the place I'm alluding to is really really nice. Allows dogs. Affordable. Quiet. Comfy. It will be a long wait.
Why do I want it now? Right now I need to simplify my life. I've got too much crap, and I do mean crap. AND I really need to write this blog up in book form.
2 years first. There are some very nice places to live in this town that have restrictions on how old you have to be to live in them. I have the place I want picked out, and I'll be the right age in a couple of years. Nicer as the place downtown is, the place I'm alluding to is really really nice. Allows dogs. Affordable. Quiet. Comfy. It will be a long wait.
Why do I want it now? Right now I need to simplify my life. I've got too much crap, and I do mean crap. AND I really need to write this blog up in book form.
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