Sunday, November 26, 2006

Symphony Chronicles:

So today was the first day of rehearsals for Handel's "Messiah" It's Handel's most famous work, and it's pretty much a huge Christian Choral Orgy. It's all about the life of Jesus or something. I'm not really sure. I'm basing this off of the fist sentence off the wikipedia article I linked, and the lyrical cues that the conductor kept singing during rehearsal today.

Anyway, for many reasons, I am excited about Messiah. First off, the music is challenging, but not so hard as I struggle badly to play parts of it. It's hard, but I'm actually really happy with the sound I'm making.
This is probably in part due to one thing: our temporary new addition to the cello section!

In a feeble attempt at protecting the innocent** let's call him Neo.

(**I do this under the assumption that only one of my readers is actually doing to attend this concert. I hope he wears his suit)

Now, most of you don't know Neo. This is fine. He's a nice guy. He majored in Minimalist Music in university, and he lives with his mother. His interests include teaching himself how to play cello, and figure skating. He's at least in his 30's. And he lives with his mother.
But we'll start this story off at the beginning:

Rehearsal got off a bit late because the symphony's new curator was a bit late. (She had to pick up the conductor from the airport, and didn't unlock the church doors for us, so the principal violist had to get keys) So I unpack my cello, and take a seat in my usual chair. The third chair. Right behind principal. My usual place because we only have three cellos generally. But, I remembered! We have a new player! How exciting!

So the cello section settles, but we're short one player, our second chair. I figured the good Dr. would arrive shortly, so I ignored the empty second chair, and seated myself comfortably in the third chair. Our new addition, Neo, sits down beside me. Now I've played before with him. He was first chair that time, and it was at a Strauss Ball last year. I was sight reading bass parts for that concert, so I didn't pay much attention to him, but I still had a vague memory of what it was like being in a section with him. Even with that experience, I had no idea what I had in store.

The first thing I remember Neo saying to me when he sat down beside me was: "it's good skating weather. I'm trying hard to get myself in great physical condition". I'd forgotten what Jordan had told me about him last year. This guy has aspirations to be an olympic figure skater. In fact, a few years ago, when a bunch of professional figure skaters came to Prince George, he allegedly cornered one, and asked them what it would take for him to make it on the Olympic Figure Skating Team. He was told to keep it as a hobby. But! that apparently didn't phase him. I'm pretty sure at this very moment, he's getting prepped to win gold at 2010.

Now, before I go into this any farther, I have to let this be known: This was the most difficult symphony rehersal I have ever attended. Much harder than the first Nutcracker rehersal, where I was sweating, and nearly in tears because I was convinced if I miss a note, that the conductor will kick me out. Much worse than having to sight read tenor cleft for the Magic Flute. No, this one took the cake.

Not that Messiah is that hard. It's quite easy compared to other pieces I've performed. Its baroque, so the rhythms are simple and metronomical, and everything is pretty much just simple scale runs in first position. But the music was not what was making this taxing.

No hard bowings.

No legnthy fermadas.

No odd time signatures.

In fact, it's almost entirely in common time....4/4....and I was reminded of this...every time there were any rests....because I could hear 1...2...3...4...1...2...3...4... constantly being the other cellist. And when he wasn't counting beats, he was loudly tapping his foot. Only, sometimes he wasn't on the beat, and it would throw me off.

Now, I'll be the first to admit, no one is above counting beats. No one. It's actually a good habit, to just always have the numbers running through your head, helping you keep your rhythms in check. I've seen the best of them do it. Juan Alderate De la Pena, bass player for the Mars Volta, mouths beats in performance during parts with weird time signatures. It's cool. Because he's playing through a 1000 watt ampeg cab, and NO ONE in the audience can hear him. I do it. Constantly. But in my head. You know, that little voice you hear in your head. It chimes beats for me when I'm reading music, much like as you're reading this you may be hearing a voice in your own head (unless you read my blog out loud, which is kind of weird....) Well, I guess this guy eliminates the need for that internal voice, because the ENTIRE string section can hear him. Or at least hear him TAPPING HIS FOOT. At one point Les, the conductor, noticed this. The look on his face was priceless and sad.


Authors note: I never finished writing this. But I'm going publish what I have done. If anyone is at all interested, the performance went very well, and my one expected attendee didn't wear a suit, but it's okay because he didn't know the concert was happening until 15 minutes before the performance. My brother also came to watch, and was disgusted by all the religious content. I'm glad he attended.

Voodoo driving hex?

I've had way too many close calls driving this week. The weather being crazy is more than likely a contributing factor, but I probably could have died or been severely injured at least three or four times in the last 5 days. I'm almost starting to question my skills as a driver because of it. I mean, I like to think I'm a safe driver, but too much weird stuff has been happening at once.

Okay, well, I can pare down a few. Almost getting T-boned by a semi on Ospika was a mix of the semi being CRAZY and running a red light, and me being too tired to bother looking both ways before proceeding through an intersection. It feels weird saying that icy road conditions probably saved my life though. Good thing my tires have little traction!

I think other drivers being idiots has a lot to do with it too. I spend a lot of time driving, so the odds of me encountering more dangerous and erratic morons are slightly higher than most. But still, I don't like that. Coming to terms with my mortality everytime I leave my house is not something I like to plan on doing every day.

I've started packing survival gear in my car, in case I crash and have to wait for rescue. Well, actually, I just have snow pants and a huge jacket there becuase I was going to go sledding yesterday, but didn't, and was too lazy to carry it out of my car afterwards. Hopefully it will never come in handy.

Anyway, I have to go drive to a Symphony Rehersal. Handel's "Messiah" better be worth it.

Wednesday, November 22, 2006

HEY! You with the face....!

Last couple of days were cool. Highlights included:
  • Killer blizzard that stranded me in town
  • seeing Paul and Chantal and going on an adventure with them that included.....
  • ........going to the XXX store and hurting ourselves laughing at porno film titles.
  • also, while on the topic of the XXX store, LOBSTER CLAW DILDOS AND ANAL BEADS GALORE?!?!
  • Japanese food, and caffeinated beverages became involved in the equation (but only after seeing several movie covers involving elderly lesbians, and hairy hairy fat men that enjoyed sodomy too much. In retrospect, probably a good thing we didn't eat before going to the porn shack. Many things seen on those covers were definetly gag worthy. SO MUCH BACK HAIR, MY GOD)
  • driving around on icy streets, in search of an empty icy parking lot to do e-break slides on while blasting the Aqua Bats at midnight.

And that was just day one!

Day two:

  • Began with waking up at 7:15, after staying up til 3:30 on a caffeine high, trying in vain to convince anyone to go sledding with me.
  • practically freezing my hands to my steering wheel while driving
  • spending 10 hours confined to a small room with Josh, recording, mixing, and myspace whoring.

The results you ask?


I provide this link for your listening pleasure. Please add us, share us, comment, and do what you will with us.

Monday, November 20, 2006

I have very few emotional attatchments in my life and my car is one of them.

I have a little story to tell you.

Last month, for about two weeks in a row, I had a few run ins with a young man driving an Orange VW Jetta. It would happen like clockwork. I think it was because I would be jamming with Josh, and leave his house at the exact same time every day to make it to College Heights to teach guitar. I'd hit the same busy traffic at the same time. And there'd always be this prick driving really really agressively, trying to loop in and out of traffic, go really fast, and generally just be a douchebag. I'd always wind up around two cars ahead of him, and observe from my rearview mirror as he's trying feebly to get passed everyone.

So, being a responsible driver, I'd pull up beside the first car I could find with a veteran plate, and match speeds with them. Locking this poor fuck behind until the car in the right lane would turn off. This would happen at around the turn off to Superstore, or Costco. The VW would zoom as fast as he could up the hill, racing to the top as fast as he could. So I'd always turn on Davie, cut through Baker, bypass the light, and wind up infront of him again.

This happened at least two or three times. It would unfold exactly the same way everytime. I didn't really think much of it.

Until I was on the boredinpg forums this morning, and I found a link to a Volkswagon Internet Community for PG. I figured, 'hell, I drive a fox, maybe they could help me get a new door for my glove box.' So I took the link, and went to the subforum for Fox's and found this topic.

I nearly started crying. This was not something I wanted to see at 11:30 am after not sleeping for two days. Now, as if finding out some creepy douchebag in College Heights has been stalking me in traffic wasn't bad enough, he had the odacity to say my car was a piece of shit.


But being stupid and curious, I checked out this guy's profile and found a link to his myspace. On it, was this picture:

I'm going to have to find a different way to drive to College Heights.

I am robot.

Apparently I live for the extra edge you get from being perpetually sleep deprived. I've been unable to get a good night's sleep. I've been sleeping irregularly for the last couple of weeks. Last night I got no sleep, and tonight is proving to be no different.

I don't know what it is. Maybe I'm over taxed. I'd assume that being over taxed would make me more tired, and thus want sleep more. But I guess I am over tired and want sleep, I just can't get it.

I hate sleeping without dreaming. Even horribly bad dreams are better than no dreams. I went through a long string of just blank nights. I'd sleep long, like a solid 8 hours, but I'd have no recollection of anything.

The last dream I remember having was really pleasant. It was a beautiful summary of a few nice things that I wish would happen. Nothing outlandish, not asking too much. Just best case scenarios. And then I woke up. I felt a bit bitter that morning, for a few reasons. Namely because I know that what I dreamed, no matter how hard I wish, will never happen. I guess I was also slightly bitter that I woke up too. I haven't slept well since.

I remember when I was younger I had really really terrible dreams a lot. Sometimes there were the standard nightmares, like some incomprehensible monster persuing me, and I'd try to run but my legs are too weak to move, and I'd try to scream, and only air seeped through without a sound.

Then there were those weird dreams that just had a bad vibe. They were strange, and I would just be expecting something bad to happen. Then I'd wake up from them, and my day would just feel as if it were a continuation of the dream. The same dull forboding feeling, following me around.

All of that made sleeping harder for me when I was a kid. I got over it though. It wasn't really a huge problem for long. I remember when I was having nightmares a lot, my mom told me that if you dream something, it means the opposite is going to happen. I know she just said this to make me feel better, but it really stuck. Knowing my luck, it holds true for both the good and bad. I've never been afraid of having nice dreams. Maybe not afraid. Maybe I'd just prefer not to. Fuck optamism, I guess.

I guess when you go long enough without sleep, it sort of feels like dreaming. For now I guess it's the next best thing. It's a strange drunkedness. Everything becomes automatic. Probably some prehistoric survival instinct. Maybe I should write some songs about it.

I don't know why I'm typing this. I'm going to eat breakfast cereal and drink some coffee.

Sunday, November 19, 2006

Paycheck vs. Lottery....?

I never get good ideas for songs when I'm in a good mood. But I can never complete one when I'm a bad one. This is a strange coincidence. Lets just say that right now I have a lot of ideas going nowhere. And it's frustrating. I wrote this really hard cello part for a song that I would barely have the indurance to keep up during a performance, but damn if it doesn't sound neat. It's probably heavily influenced by me listening to too much Sibelius while feeling sorry for myself.

Right now I'm on a very tight music regiment. It includes endless hours of daily practise, playing in three different orchestral ensembles and one chamber ensemble, at least two hours per day of listening to influencial orchestral pieces, and noteworthy solo cello pieces (on rotation right now is Beethoven's Fifth Symphony, and Bach's Cello Suite No. 5 in C Minor. Both are stunning), studies of theory, and engulfing myself in the history of western music. This includes knowing time periods (Baroque, Classical, Romantic, Mordern), note worthy composers of said period, other specifics of the period (art, literature, architecture) outside influences (religious, political, etc) and specific aspects of style particular to the given period.

This is all in preperation for music school. Auditions will be held, applications will be sent, and I know in the process I'm going to forget what I'm doing and why. I'm already starting to get that feeling. I don't know what I'm doing. I seriously have no clue. I feel completely aimless. I go through this routine tirelessly, and without break, week after week. Punching in time til I don't know when. The only thing worse than that feeling of being almost zimbie like is my complete indifference towards all of it. I know I'm going through all of it, but I don't know why.

I feel like I severely need a break. I've never been more stressed than I am right now. I just feel small, and like I have no control of my own actions. But, this is paradoxical because all of this ha been my own choice. I wanted to be a musician, I want to learn, and perform, and play, and write. I worked hard to reach the present level I am at. There's no doubt in my mind that it's what I need to do with my life. But I still feel this immense doubt.

Everyone's advice is just another layer of confusion to add onto an already intricate parfait. And everyone is so biased. But also, the reasons for my hesitation are fickle at best. So much so that I don't even want to admit them to myself.

Author's Note:

I forgot I wrote this, and I also neglected to publish it. I'm going to now, though odds are no one will read it as it's a week old and will show up below all my newer posts. I have changed my mind about a lot of this. It's amazing what one good week can do for a person.


Thursday, November 16, 2006

Out of Egypt, into the great laugh of Mankind...

Today was sweet. I recorded cello tracks for this guys album, in an actual studio. Like, with two rooms, and pane of glass seperating the mixing room from the recording room. And they paid me to do it. It was pretty cool. It was a sort of soft rock/r & b album. Not really my thing, but I found it really really enjoyable. Nice guys too.


Tuesday, November 14, 2006

Listen to more Stravinsky

I hate being in a good mood. The extreme highs of jubillation spell nothing but trouble to me. This comes from experience. The wisdom that comes from understanding that the universe has some inherent need for balance. A twisted way of leveling off the average, by use of polar opposites.

Last week was fantastic. This week has officially blown. It's had a few redeeming qualities, sure, but I just can't get over this feeling of having accomplished nothing.

Now, I hate complaining about things. Makes me feel like a self centered asshole, and I have tried to make a habit of supressing how irritated I am by most things. I can generaly keep calm, maintain composure, and ensure that my rage is contained to the confines of my own mind. But the quality and consistancy of pitfalls this week is just too much. I've had to deal with more stressful scenarios in the past without losing any sleep, but this time, I don't know. I just feel exhausted.

I hate feeling uninspired too. I usually have at least some idea running through my head at any given moment. A melody, or ideas for lyrics, or beats, or something. Right now, nothing. If I wasn't so lethargic at the moment, I'm sure it'd be driving me crazy.

I'm going to listen to L'Orchestre de la Suisse Romande and call it a day.

It's not even 1 pm and I'm already giving up on the day. SUPER! Stupid Tess being right. I should stop posting when I'm happy. Fucking karma.

I should probably stop feeling sorry for myself too. YAY!

Saturday, November 11, 2006

If my life were a TV network...and my dad were Benny Hill....

..then my programming day would have started at
midnight: Relationship advice columnist Chantal Short advises call in viewers. This week features a confused indecisive fool who know's she has to bite the bullet, but is still too much of a coward to do it. OH DRAMA.
12 30 am After School Special, featuring a young fresh graduate getting thrown into a world of drugs and debauchery. Will she make all the right choices? Will she be strong enough to follow Jesus to salvation?

Channel off air from 5 00 am - 3 00 pm because nothing intersting happened

3 00 pm: Now begins one of those automotive shows where you observe mechanics fixing an old beater. The car being highlighted today was an '88 Volkswagon Fox. The ailment: the clutch snapped and ceased to function.
4 00 pm: Here we flip channels to "Survivorman" where Naomi is stranded in a large truck yard on the wrong side of the Frasier River for two hours with nothing for protection from the wild but her big wool jacket, and nothing for sustainance but a pack of Bubblemint Extra. OMG HER ADIDAS SHOES PROVIDE NO PROTECTION FROM THE COLD, AND WIND CUTS THROUGH HER COAT LIKE A HOT KNIFE THROUGH BUTTER!! WILL SHE MAKE IT TO SAFETY, OR HAVE TO BE RESCUED!??! WILL SHE LIVE THROUGH THE COLD LONG ENOUGH FOR HER RESCUERS TO ARRIVE?!
5 00 pm: Oh thank god we changed channels back to the mechanics show. They've jimmied the clutch back together, by utilising a crane, some chains, a crow bar and several different sizes of screw drivers. Turns out it was a ring or something that was placed wrong, and it caused a lot of extra tension in the clutch. When it was lest depressed, it somehow was given some slack and decided to fly off, disconnecting the clutch pedal from the clutch cable. So after two hours of labour, that was put back together.
5 30 pm: We start our evening off with a movie "Speed III". The film's tag line: "THERE'S A BOMB ON THE CLUTCH" Essentially, it's me, as depicted by Sandra Bullock, trying to drive a VW Fox from the BCR Site to my house, without making ANY stops or using the clutch at all to shift gears. If she touches the clutch, it may break, causing the car to explode. Rated R for Retarded.
6 00 pm. Just in time for dinner! A delightful cooking show commences. Our chef is preparing shrimp, sauteed with onions, and green curry, served over cheese ravioli (that I can't eat). Not only is it pleasing to the pallet, but very visually stimulating as well. Truly a wonderful blend of exotic eastern flavours, with a traditional European favourite.
7 oo pm: To end our evening off light heartedly, we will retire to the family room and enjoy the wholesome comedy of Benny Hill. Only, he's had a little bit too much to drink haha. Oh Benny! You kidder! Watch him go on the deck and bark for two hours at the neighbours dog! A laugh riot I tells ya! And look! He's doing that gag where a line of characters are chasing eachother on and off screen to hilarious trumpet music! OMG BENNY! BE CAREFUL THAT DEER IS GOING TO GET YOU! OH LOOK! THE TABLES HAVE TURNED, AND HIS FAITHFUL CAT CEDRIC IS HELPING HIM PUSH BACK THAT ANGRY ANGRY DEER. NOW INTO THE HOUSE, WHERE THEIR CHASE HAS BEEN JOINED BY A RANDOM BOBBY, SOME GIRLS IN BIKINIS, A NUN, AND THEY'VE ALL CONVERGED ON BENNY'S FRIGHTENED CONFUSED DAUGHTER...
...who has since retreated to the basement to play guitar alone. At least things have quited down. I fucking hate TV anyway.

To make a long and useless story short, I had a nice talk with Tel after seeing the marvellous Borat movie. I then went to a party where I wound up observing a lot of people high on K. I was then coaxed into playing guitar, and got to see a dancer do interpretive liquid dancing stuff to one of my songs. Also, I was designated driver, which I love being at parties, but I've never been to one at a party where I've seen a real life crack pipe*****. That was right about when I decided to leave.

Anyway, the next day commenced, and after 4 shors hours of sleep I was up and adam, ready for the day. After I taught guitar, I gave my student a ride to meet his dad at work, but right when I dropped him off my clutch finally gave out on me. His dad fixed it, but warned me that my clutch cable was only hanging on by a thread, so I had to use it as little as possible on my drive home, otherwise I might wind up snapping it, and not having anyway to start if I have to come to a stop. So, in one try, I had to teach myself how to shift gears without use of a clutch. I even managed to figure out how to gear down with out. It was pretty sketchy. And HOLY CRAP I WAS COLD. I had to stand outside for two hours while he tried to fix it (cudos to Rick, my student's father. It was just my good fortune it broke down there, and Rick happened to be a mechanic. It could have had far far worse timing.)

So I made it home in one piece (I only had to stop at one light, so I only had to use my clutch two times the entire drive!!). I drove up to my house to see that my dad was up to his wacky antics, as is his usual fashion. Oh fun times were had. Then I had to cook dinner. And it was a great dinner that I cooked. And tea is delicious. But my toes are still cold.

I haven't proof read this. I hope it's more coherent than I think it is. So far this weekend blew.


One up note though! I got a random call today. From Rocketfish Productions. I've been hired to do some session work for this guys album. They want me to play cello. And it's paying a pretty penny. Hopefully it will compensate for the majour headache that's been the last 24 hours. We'll see I guess.

****it has been brought to my attention that what I saw, was in fact, a speed pipe. I apologise for my ignorance.

Thursday, November 09, 2006

Dear Mitch:

Your constistancy of blogging has dropped dramatically. This saddens me. Even Tess's has, but that's just to be expected. Still... you both have failed me. I don't want to be the only person kicking a dead horse. That is a team effort! Horses are large animals. They require a team to triangulate around them, like so:

So you see, you must blog more. It'll encourage Tess hopefully, which will in turn, encourage me, and so forth. It will universally increase productivity.

Enough is enough.

I can't beleive I've gone this long without going off on a rant about this. I've managed to supress it for some time, but I just have to let this out.

I don't understand everyone's fixation with Japan. My confusion goes beyond being irritating at this point, and is now nearing rage.

Now, I do understand that fads, in their nature, tend defy all reason, and are as such, inexplicable. I mean, they generally have to be fickle, flashy, and relatively entertaining in a way that doesn't make you think too much.

Just think back to fads long past:

*Pet Rocks

*Tony Danza


*Having Go-Go Dancers/a Tambourine Player for anything

*Being on any medications

*Boy Bands

*Jean Claude Van Damn movies

*Being fashionably emo

*Bashing Nirvana

*Voting at elections

*Going to college

*McAuly Caulkin

*New Wave

*Being depressed

*Club Kids (take that Michael Alig)

*Outwardly being nice to Jews while secretly still hating them

But what is it about this small Pacific Rim nation that we find to endlessly fascinating? Is it their sense of national identity, especially after a politically, socially, and economically crippling War in the 1940's? A sense of guilt on the part of the allies for being singhandedly responsible for the deaths of millions of Japanese civillians? Is it Pocky?

I think it has more to do with their use of cartoons. Much like Ciggerette companies, Japan has been using cute memorable characters to hook the youth of America. Joe Camel has nothing on these shifty God damned Asians.

I think this is all Walt Disney's fault. I'm fairly certain that in the 1950's he captured small sects of asian workers to be in sweatshops and produce cartoons (probably in accordance with some treaty signed at Yalta or something) and I'm sure a few managed to escape and took what they learned and created anime. If he'd been less of a cheap asshole and hired security guards with better aim, we could have dodged this bullet entirely.

What this boils down to is that I remember a time when cartoons were great. When Bugs Bunny faught the Nazi's and introduced us to classical music. The first time I heard Wagner was on Merry Melodies. I play songs in the symphony now that I recignise from when I was 3 years old, watching Bugs Bunny running around getting shot at by Elmer Fudd while it was playing in the background. You all should know by now that I'm all for cultural enlightenment, and I encourage myself and anyone to experience as much of different cultures as we can, but don't lose your own in the process.

Now I don't know if this is intentional or not, but this has been their greatest revenge on the west. How do you think FDR would feel if he knew that his great great great grandchildren know the all the words to the "Sailor Moon" theme song, but probably don't know that he and Teddy Roosevelt were related. 50 years after we beat them in the battle, they've won the war by taking the minds of our youth.

The thing I hate most about this Japan fad is that the most fickle frivillious aspects of Japan are being objectified. The parts that I find resemble America more than anything. Their fashion, their television, their music (though Ryan G has sent me some pretty cool Japanese bands) but I mean music that is either terrible J-Pop or punk/post hardcore/indie bands with Japanese singers. Bands that are so terrible, the only thing they have going for them is they're Japanese.

Japan has a rich history, epic, in its scope of art, music, tradition, religion, mythology, and horrible tragedies both acted out by them, and inflicted upon them. In this nation is a strange and wonderful culture, and above all, an influence that reaches all of us, but is understood by so few effected by it.

But forget all that crap, they have Pocky, right? How silly of me.

Sunday, November 05, 2006

Phones are awkward, thank God for the internet.

With every passing day, I have begun to notice one irritating fact constantly reaffirming itself like some sort of terrible ulcer:
Having a cell phone would be practical and would probably save me a lot of trouble.

God damnit. I don't want one. I've been putting off getting one quite successfully. It'll be expensive, ridiculously trendy, and just another thing to irritate me with. But even my parents (who were advocates against cell phones from as far back as the early 90's, for their alleged--and according to my parents, proven--cancer causing tendancies) are saying it's a good idea. My Dad seems convinced I'll be constantly using it, arranging drug runs, or calling my crack buddies, or whatever it is he probably thinks I do when I'm not at home, but at least it'd be a way for him to keep tabs on me in the process...!

What probably would wind up happening is, if I got one, I'd have it turned off constantly. Or "lose" it somewhere in my car. Completely accidentally of course. See, I think I prefer being inaccessable. I guess I just like being difficult, but I think not having one does make my life a lot more simple in many respects. Though I'm sure that if, and when, I wind up in a ditch somewhere along the highway of tears I'd appreciate being able to at least attempt to call for help. But I guess I'll burn that bridge when I get to it!

Maybe if I get one, I'll only give my number to like five people. But I'm sure each one of those people knows five more people, and they all in turn, know five more people, and then in less than a week the whole world would have it. Damnit.

Or I'll just start not leaving my house anymore. That'd save me a lot of fuel money. Then I could revert back to the glory days of summers past, when I'd hide in the basement and play bass all day.


Friday, November 03, 2006

So is this where we draw the line?

I just broke the 5000 mark on total amounts of posts on a forum. I am now allowed to have a custom rank. I don't know if I should be proud, ashamed, seeking help, or even admitting to this. I mean, imagine how much time this must have taken. Even on regular cable internet, it would be a long process. I'm on friggen dial up. This is frightening. Maybe now that I've reached the highest milestone that is recignised on this particular forum, I'll cut down. We can only hope.
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