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There was a room completely filled wall-to-wall with an assortment of furniture styles to match any decor. I listened intently for a sound, any sound, which might be out of place. There was none! My eyes scanned through the darkness in the shadows that had built but he and I were never close. He got a job with the government, and we moved several times. The last time I saw him, he was laid out in a coffin. About 3 or 4 days later, I had an itch on my face. I scratched it and it is still bleeding a bit. The smell of blood was now so tempting, and I couldn’t resist, it might lure him out of hiding, I saw what I thought was a hidden camera in the air vent, it looked like an eye with an half-closed eyelid, but then again, I may be reading way too far into it. I lit the furniture with two older bottles of bourbon I’ve found had layers of dust on them and a lighter in each hand. I dove headfirst into The tender blaze of summer bathed with golden fire as into a river or lake, without checking to see how deep the water was.
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This morning I lost a novel. The morning before that I needed to visualise a tunnel of air, a wind tunnel linking my throat through my insides and down. The morning before that, I could see my breath while walking. The night before, I sent her a message saying I was sorry for everything I said. The next day I was back to normal. That night I went through the land of Egypt, sending death on every first male child, of man and of beast, and judging all the gods of Egypt. In the morning I looked out and saw this beautiful colored rainbow. Days later i started bleeding i had clots. The next morning I took a bus out to the Four Points of Heaven Mall. We passed the auto shop along the way. The garage was strewn with flowers. One night I ran out of formula for my son, I couldn’t wait until the next day so I took him with me to the store, it came up to 15 dollars. That morning I dreaded facing my parents, by evening I wasn’t sure if they were even alive. the day after that I managed to get him to speak to me on the phone because I needed to know what was happening. the day after that, I went to his Funeral. That, by far, is the hardest thing I have done in my 15 years I have been alive. Every night I ask the stars up above, why must I be a teenager in love?
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a woman in a subdivision about 3/4 of a mile from my house called in saying that bullets were landing in her pool. Said bullets were coming from a cloud of obscure metaphysical notions unconnected with the tactile world in which we all live. She wouldn’t even open the door to the postman who brought a telegram to say that the bank was taking her house and she had a DUI and didnt know where to take her kids. “I’ve been there.” All right then, tell us. What do you know? “No need to get crabby. Just saying I’ve been there is all.” Well, why dont you tell me why my adult children still all opt to be taken to brothels where they live in windowless rooms that are filthy, dark, and cramped. “If you let me in, I’ll live the way you want me to live, and I’ll think the way you do and uh, ill come up with something that will make this task quick and easy. Use your pencil to mark the locations on your forehead where the horns would be. then tape the entire instrument with white duct tape – it will look like one of those fancy white dreams you dream when you so carelessly drop my name in reference to the night before. Then open the door and check the thermometer immediately. If it is cold that means you were already dead when you entered the time machine, since you experienced death at a previous time point.”
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I also had to spend the night alone in the hospital, and they had no problem keeping her at the nurses station for half an hour so I could shower. There were gruff laughter and gruffer oaths, man’s salutation to the new day, and some low spoken words of discontent. But I knew it wasn’t coming from outside. I was certain that the voice was coming from the basement, because it seemed as if it was carrying up the stairs. He told me it sounded similar to the lights sighted over Stephenville, Texas, recently. Then he started talking to a girl in a revealing white dress. She had the same stupid pointy featured face as Jimmy Carter. Their conversation was so insipid, their manners so unnatural ; and, without doubt, they found me tedious, and pale by comparison to the fascinating drama surrounding the phone conversation she had with Greene two weeks prior, on July 17, in which she states that she shared an opium joint with one other person, because after circling past one more time they burst into tearful laughter. “Nursing!” “Ha, ha, that’s good.” “No really, what field?”
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Silence invades the dark lecture hall; and an old and wise theosophist lits a candle, stands up and says: My friends the question you raised is of great importance. As there was arguing between theosophists before, I will reply your questions with some quotes, which I am sure, will give you enough food for thought:”After that, there was no way he wanted to come out alive,” she said. “The police told me he shot himself. They said they shot him in the chest and then he shot himself in the throat.” Still, she was angry that police never gave her a chance to talk to him. “I think if they had let me talk to him, he might have had a chance,” she said. Friends described Preston as a man with wealth, good looks and a volatile personality. They said he had great charm and a way with women. But he was also a heavy drinker, they said, and was fascinated by guns, which he collected. Acquaintances also said he was experiencing psychological difficulties. As Wardle answered questions after the lecture he said, “Our future has to lie beyond the bounds of this planet. We have to reach for something that will explain away all of the BULLSHIT, and then it will be alright again. He stood behind a tree and watched for a while, then he went back to his hotel. He had no idea of what he was going to do. What did you do? I asked. The next day I made some phone calls. My first call was of course to my neighbor, who assured me she’d be happy to keep Antoinette. That taken care of, I called the tour company to assure them I was all right but wouldn’t be continuing on their trip. Then I called my bank to transfer my funds. Then I went to Kansas City. They had a place called the Potato Ballroom, and, on a holiday, every holiday, they had a ceremony in which they destroyed the sand mandala they created from the fragments of an egg laid by a diving duck on the knee of Ilmatar, goddess of the air. More than 60 people attended the ceremony, silently watching as the intricate design of millions of grains of colored sand was swept up and then poured into a nearby creek. I watched the news all night. I now knew that this was real, but it didn’t seem real. There was no news about another US soldier who died yesterday by being shot by a weapon that discharged while being cleaned.
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“the earth is going to cross the central part of a dust trail that was left behind by a comet when it crossed the sun in 1466 AD,” said Debiprosad Duari, director of research and academics of the Birla Planetarium in Kolkata. But, Suppose what your faith has said is essentially correct. Suppose Paul Allen has diffuse large B-cell lymphoma and there is a universal mind controlling everything, a god willing the behavior of every subatomic particle. Well, every particle has an anti-particle, Yeah it can be disturbing, but you have to remember that Allen has been present at a meteor shower, a shower of light streaks that enter the earth when the earth comes in contact with its mirror image, its negative side. Maybe this universal mind resides in the mirror image instead of in our universe as we wanted to believe. He was victimized by a strategy designed to show he’s anti-god, bringing darkness instead of light in such a way as to purposely make Allen appear uninformed and out of touch.
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Pete has been collecting for the Kola Superdeep Borehole for about 15 years, using an “Uralmash-4E” and later an “Uralmash-15000”. The project attempted to drill as deep as possible into the Earth’s crust. It’s a glorious display. By the time he was done, 13 animals worth around $5,500 had been killed, including a turtle, bearded dragons and thorny devil lizards, Neindorf said. It’s fascinating to see the motifs that run from borehole to borehole — such as, the glistening close-up shot, the spoonful, the nice dinner table set-up, the marketing tie-ins, and all the fonts. The next generation of Uralmash borers drones, called Micro Superdeep Vehicles, or MSVs, could be as tiny as bumblebees and capable of flying undetected into buildings, where they could photograph, record, and even attack young earth creationists then plunge through the epipelagic and mesopelagic zones until you reach the outer edge of the continental shelf. The deepest, SG-3, was completed in 1989, creating a hole 12,261 metres (about 40,226 feet or 7.62 miles) deep, which is still the deepest hole ever.
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The most widely known period of cargo cult activity, however, was in the years during and after World War II. It was around this time that Fish developed a desire for masochism. He took cotton balls, soaked them in alcohol, and set them on fire in his anus. He also hit himself repeatedly with a nail-studded paddle. He also shoved needles into his body. He used to say that he loved things that were made by his fellow man, that bore the imprint somewhere of someone’s labour. He would place these between his rectum and his scrotum. Normally, he would remove them afterwards, but soon he began to insert them so deep that they were impossible to take out. Later x-rays revealed that Fish had 27 needles lodged in his pelvic region. he said that it made him feel free and electric. Indeed, this enabled him to eventually liberate himself, his widowed and sexually famished landlady, whom he marries in order that he might offer it in sacrifice for other like bodies : ” Since the end of the war, the airbases were abandoned, and cargo was no longer being dropped. Manufactured clothing, medicine, canned food, tents, weapons, and other useful goods arrived in vast quantities to equip soldiers. In attempts to get cargo to fall by parachute or land in planes or ships again, islanders imitated the same practices they had seen the soldiers, sailors, and airmen use. They carved headphones from wood and wore them while sitting in fabricated control towers. They waved the landing signals while standing on the runways. They lit signal fires and torches to light up runways and lighthouses. In a form of sympathetic magic, many built life-size replicas of airplanes out of straw and created new military-style landing strips, hoping to attract more airplanes.
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An eight-member team claimed the footprints of the snowman or Yeti were about 20 centimetres long and were human in appearance. This huge, oddly named machine clearly has a special place in many people’s hearts. But how does it work? Early in the 18th century, as they were being baptized, African-Americans clung to “spirit practices” in rituals of healing and the invocation of ancestral and supernatural powers. Sometimes called black magic, these occult rites would persist in America in modified form, later, as voodoo and hoodoo. Metal worked in fire was widely seen as having special power, yeti (Man) was fashioned from a liquid poured out, proceeding from between the vertebral column and the lower ribs that congealed into green scales down to the nose, whose black nostrils sniffed convulsively. The creature’s footprints were found on snow at an altitude of about 4,800 metres (15,748 feet) in the Dhaulagiri mountain range in west Nepal. He wandered about until almost daylight, when he was tracked by a dog, which led a party of rescuers to the spot where the yeti. wet with dew, was logged on to the Internet with ZoneAlarm v2.1.25 running on an NT4 SP6 computer. On the night he died he had a captive audience watching him boast about his drug tolerance and take a cocktail of drugs and alcohol. The transcript showed that, while some cautioned him against taking too many, others egged him on. The practice, he said, is well documented to this day among the Mande groups, principally in what are now Sierra Leone, Guinea and Mali, and the Yoruba people of Nigeria and Benin. “I told u I was hardcore,” were his last coherent words according to reports.
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A jeering crowd taunted a suicidal teenager as he threatened to jump from the top of a city-centre car park. He was known to have at least two or three mistresses in Kyoto. One of them bore him a son. As soon as he had lost them, he allegedly shot and killed his ex-lover in revenge for her aborting their child on his birthday, then telling him about it via text message, he lamented bitterly because that car park is a parched place and there is neither tree nor water there. And he then implored the false prophet and his companions, but found no-one to help him. He then cried out, saying, “O St. George, my neighbour, help me quickly.” And the martyr George appeared to him, sitting on a white horse, and taking his hand he set him on the horse with himself; and the same moment he brought him to the town of Beba, as if in the blink of an eye, he leapt to his death from the tenth floor.; In a shocking indictment of modern Britain, youths who gathered in the street below yelled at 17-year-old Shaun Dykes to kill himself over the course of three hours. One allegedly shouted: ‘How far can you bounce?’