Wednesday, June 22nd 2022
Well, we are over the hump. It’s 5:30 a.m. and I’ve been up for a while. I’m just starting to get moving. I got woken up in the middle of the night by somebody important to me thinking hard about me for the first time in a long time. We missed connections, relying on the written word to express some feelings and thoughts about our lives.
Yesterday I had two deep conversations. A truck driver friend of mine checked in in the middle of my day. He was in his truck supporting the evil empire and I was here in the quiet listening to birds and trying not to smell gasoline.
I feel like I don’t belong anywhere anymore. I can think of several pieces of literature that Express this. Sometimes a person leaves one place and goes to another and becomes a person who doesn’t quite belong in either of those places anymore. Americans are deeply Disturbed people. I can sit here and analyze it all day. Many people in the world analyze Americans and Americans just sit around and think everybody wants their money. Americans only think about money. That’s all they do. Self justification in all things. There is nothing else but money.
People here are the same. Sometimes they say that it’s always been this way but I know for a fact that’s not true. They used to do something different here and they used to put money way to the back of things. They used to rely on ingenuity, human effort and friendliness to get by. I would try to explain to you how pervasive it is to be around such people. I can sit here and say words like how it is a breath of fresh air or how you always thought life could possibly be. But then the world just drives over you like a steamroller again. It’s hard to find intimacy in a money world. Intimacy has had a bounty on its head for a long, long time.
It was nice touching base though. There is a familiar rhythm and music to conversations with Americans. There is a brightness. In literature, I think they often refer to this as American optimism. Perhaps it’s just a heightened electricity. People actually get paid for their movement, at least in comparison to local economies around the world. Pretty much no one in the world has the money Americans do but then again, Americans are physically no different from anyone else. They are just formed into a different mold by money. They couldn’t stop even if they wanted to.
I stopped. I stopped a long time ago. I stopped because I didn’t want to go anymore. I stopped because I didn’t understand why I was going. I stopped because I didn’t believe in the propaganda. I stopped because I couldn’t see any road leading me to any sort of millionaire status and I didn’t see what was so great about being a millionaire. I didn’t see anything great in all of this shit that money can buy. I just couldn’t see the point in it.
This is not to say that I found Paradise here. This place is not Paradise. Functionally and exactly at this moment, this place is closer to hell than heaven. This place is now run on military fear. That’s creeping up on us for a while. They weren’t so prolific at it at first. We understood that there was a creeping power. There were people standing up to fight it. But there weren’t many of them and punishments were very harsh. People don’t fight back anymore. They just live in a daze and pretend to be Americans.
This is actually ironic because propaganda has taught people to hate Americans. This is part of my personal hell. Again and again I say this but people can’t stop objectifying each other and unfortunately, my point of dismissal is never acceptable.
Point of dismissal is my own theory of how to deal with people in the world. It has to do with how much respect you get. The theory goes that eventually, people are going to get tired of your shit and want to go back to their own lives. Some people believe they should have all the attention forever and ever but this is just unrealistic. Unless you have other financial control over another’s life, they are not your slave. It’s another irony that if you told people that the love they were looking for comes only from a slave for their master, they wouldn’t like it and they would protest and run from it. Only people with lots of money who run businesses and keep slaves themselves truly understand this.
So we live in the world where we have all of this unrequited love. We sit around waiting for people to devote themselves to us when in fact, unless you have millions of dollars and can physically buy people, that sort of devotion doesn’t work. And in this country and probably everywhere in the world where the economic weight of life is truly felt because of the vast difference in wealth compared to Americans, they don’t believe any individual can truly support them. They just won’t trust you. They will look at you as a potential slave owner, they will just doubt the size of your wallet and therefore, you never even get that thing you were looking for.
How many people bought themselves Russian wives thinking they were getting some devotion for their money? How long did it take him to learn what 50/50 really means? And how many people never figure it out before it’s too late?
This was another one of my unfortunate objectifications. This didn’t come from here, this came from Americans. They all figured I was just here to take advantage economically. They figured I was into it for the easy pussy.
I don’t know. I probably got some opportunities that I wouldn’t have gotten if it weren’t for the objectification. And I did have a business here for a while and had people working for me. But the truth is that it’s just a bunch of people tapping you dry. There is no sense of common vision, there is no sense of working together as a team. It’s just a bunch of 50/50 people waiting for a paycheck and pretending to give a crap about their work. This is true both in business and impersonal relationships.
Or in other words, if this was true and I was only here for cheap pussy, my life has been another failure and I don’t consider my life to be a failure.
No, I came here because my grandfather said I was from here one day when he was living with us and I was maybe 12 years old. We had a globe and for some reason the town I’ve lived in for the last 20 years mostly was written on this map. We are not even the capital but yet there it was. He was from here. That meant that I was from here.
So I came out here and met a really beautiful girl on the train who probably gave me more time and attention then I would have gotten had I not been American. I’ll give you that. But it was something completely different. She was completely different. I met her family and her friends and learned about her life and she was just not economically bound. She was into me and she believed that she was doing the right thing by doing so but she was herself and living her own life. This is a different thing. This was the sort of person that was definitely not made in America.
And then of course the Russians decided to take over everything. Oil money buys a lot of cocaine I guess. Oil money buys a lot of people and makes many slaves. The Russians came in here about the time they went into Ukraine and the only difference was that we didn’t put up a fight and we said thank you for coming. What can you do? Forgive the we, it’s the easiest pronoun to use.
Exactly when that happened, the same propaganda that had me a respected person suddenly had me as a horrible person. Americans get named as the enemy all the time and whatever my public image was, and it had nothing to do with who I am or my personal philosophy or even my professional skills, went all to shit. Throw in a natural ageless anti-semitism and please, do not tell me I’m in heaven.
But then again, right now I am. Nothing but bird sounds already. So much quiet. My neighbors are filthy people. Pollution junkies. Money junkies. Low rent money junkies. Several times a day they have to destroy the sound and destroy the air with their pollution. You can’t talk to them about this. They believe they are right. I just try not to notice it. I count the number of hours without them. It well outnumbers the time with them and so I just try to ignore the fact that they are poison. What can you do?
But when they are not using their cars and I don’t have to hear their chicken voices, their hysterical clucking, I just have the birds and the bees and the insects. I have the sound of the wind in the rain and the rest of the trees. I have the beautiful faces of the flowers, worshiping and following the Sun in its trip across the sky. Far away from town, I have an endless canopy of stars on clear nights. And I have brilliant seasons, genuinely different seasons. True, a lot of wet and gray but also moments of beautiful white and vibrant green.
Or I can’t even wax poetic about that. The moment I start saying that something like this exists, we have to remember that everybody is hard at work destroying it. My American friends are hard at work putting that gasoline into the air, feeding the trucks, making sure that the drugs get delivered, working for the evil empire because there’s no other option to it.
The Republican Belarus is not having. The Republic of Belarus is a disaster. The Republic of Belarus had the right idea a long time ago but sold its birthright for cocaine and cheap hookers. It threw away its ideology for money for a very few people. It sold out everybody and didn’t care who died in the process. I’m not even sure the Republic of Belarus exists anymore. We are nothing but a Russian colony. We are voteless and I personally have to suffer physically because I can’t even get medical care that doesn’t go through Russia.
The doctors blamed the Europeans until I pointed out that there was no problem getting medical supplies from Europe. Then they blamed the Russians. Now they are blaming the local bureaucracy which is in fact under the command of Russia.
No, this is not heaven. I don’t have any desire to go walking in town on the holidays. I don’t want to look at young girls photographing themselves. I don’t want to listen to Young people’s insults. I don’t want to be approached as a foreigner and I don’t want people competing or comparing themselves to me. I don’t want their food and I don’t really want to listen to their horrific music. It’s just too fucking noisy. It’s visually and olfactory too noisy.
Perhaps there was a time though, when the river was clean enough to swim in, before the seasons got screwed up by global warming, when people still treated each other kindly that there was quite a bit of life to the town. I remember when people used to be able to play hockey on the river in the winter. This was before they built a sports Palace and people had to make do with what nature offered them. I remember when going to the river didn’t mean walking through a garbage dump. I remember sweet Winters with white winter vacations where people could play on the main square. But then they rebuilt the main square and they also rebuilt the environment. We don’t even have nice weather anymore.
No, it’s not heaven here. Global warming is real. The environment is changing. The weather is not kind anymore. The world is diseased. The world has cancer. The world’s circulatory systems and excretory systems are fouled just like the human beings who live here. We have fouled our bodies and we have fouled our environment feeding people’s shit and demanding to put garbage and the residue of fossil fuels into the atmosphere. We are told to work day and night for lifetimes to support only our own economic ability to live. We sacrifice everything we have to do nothing but continue on.
Yeah, I got to talk to two Americans yesterday. They just keep working. Both are isolated people. Both have extremely small personal lives. Both rely on their work to justify their existence.
I’m no better. I only work. I’ve had this disease my whole life as well. I just work because there’s nothing else to do. I’ve had people here very angry at me because I didn’t want to play with them. I always tell them, I don’t like to play. I’m no good at playing. I just work. And it’s true.
But if I can take one thing for myself out of all of this, I believe I’m working for a better boss these days. I believe I’m working for the best boss anyone could ever work for. I believe I’m working for the only boss we were ever supposed to have. I work for the same boss as my flowers and all the creatures on my little parcel here.
I work for God. I work for God because God is nature and nature is God.
No. Of course no. That’s just not the way the world is. The world is about participating in the human centipede. We lock our lips firmly to the asshole of the person just above us and wait around until someone gets their food supply through our asses and then they sow us all up so we can’t get away. This is not survival. This is not romantic. This isn’t the start of stuff that breeds good memories. This only leads to embarrassment. This is just a pity.
Today I’m going to go to town because I need a few things. I have some human money bureaucracy to take care of. I need to purchase some more plastic or maybe, if I’m feeling it, some brass fittings. I need to buy some steel to trestle my grapes. And maybe I’m going to buy a skill saw. I don’t mind hand cutting boards but I’m not really into ripping 2 m boards by hand. It can be done but the opportunity for mistake so far outweighs the production.
Or maybe I won’t. Maybe I don’t need to spend the money. Maybe I don’t need it.
So I’m working today. Today I’m going to go into town. However, I will ride my bicycle to the train and then I will get around town by bicycle. I may call a taxi to get home if I end up buying more steel than I can carry but no matter what, I don’t drive a car and I will not drive a car. I will not buy a car and I will not support a car. Public transportation is good enough for me and it has been my whole adult life. And if it wasn’t worried about being able to water my garden, I wouldn’t need any of this.
And I’m still half thinking we might have been better off doing nothing but digging holes for berry bushes and trees. Maybe some pumpkins and zucchinis and let all the rest of it go to hell. Or heaven.
What’s the point of this rant? I feel tired and harassed. I feel restless. My stomach’s been bothering me since I tried taking prescribed aspirin. Every time I take one of those tablets my stomach aches.
Having an achy stomach puts you in a bad mood. Not being able to sleep at night puts you in a bad mood. Maybe having to go to town puts me in a bad mood.
Okay. The only way to get out of this mood is to do what I need to do. The only way through anything is to work your way through it. I agree.
I have my list of things that need to go in the bag. My leave is in exactly 3 hours. My route is planned. If I am lucky, I might get lunch with my ex partner. If I buy the steel today, I won’t be spending any time with my ex partner because I will have to transport it. Damn, there’s a choice to be made. In fact, if I buy anything unwieldy, I miss spending time with her all together. I know that she will say that I should just do what I need to do and I know this is true but still.
Maybe the truth is that I feel a sense of aggravation because I hung out speaking to two aggravated people yesterday. Maybe hanging out with Americans does this to you. The angst and hopelessness of perpetual wage slavery brings a particular texture into people’s lives. Maybe it’s just talking to Americans that’s not healthy for me.
Yeah, this is not reality. This is just a funky mood. I got this. I have some things to do. We have some wind and weather today. It’s not that big of a deal. Really, nothing that needs to be done all the way through the rest of the year including finishing this year’s writing project is any kind of a big deal. It’s just what I have to do on any given day. Just do it and quit your bitching.
***
The decision of the European council is this Friday and a push for a 7th sanction package is the topic of this Instagram post from the president of Ukraine. He is all in on Ukraine becoming a part of Europe.
I think Europe is pretty happy with this amazingly popular change that has taken place. For over two decades, all Slavic immigrants were mostly seen as pains in the ass. They were to blame for much of the mafia, prostitution and bad plumbing. Slavic ruthlessness was a bane to most people and as an immigrant class, they were probably amongst the least trusted.
Amazingly though, suddenly there’s a flood of Ukrainian immigrants hitting off into the world under a heroic flag. Suddenly, this ridiculous military endeavor, this utterly repulsive waste of resources has made ukrainians the heroes of the world. Crazy the way the media machine works.
When I tried to get in touch with the Tampa Bay Times last year in reference to one of my personal issues, I was told that Americans require a bit more blood before they become interested. It is quite possible that this is exactly the sort of thing that they were talking about. This is Roman Colosseum shit. This is genuinely spilling blood for the purposes of mass migration and human movement and gentrification and the opportunity to make money with building supplies and of course, for the oil business for all of the transport necessary.
And why does the war drag on? What exactly are the Russians fighting for other than access to Black Sea oil? Was it just anti-semitism? Was it just punishment for electing a Jewish president? Or was it just further Slavic infiltration? I mean, despite the popularity of the cause, are these really going to be different people from the Russians, Belarusians and Ukrainians who left over the last 25 years? Is it really going to be so dramatically different just because they are popular on social media?
And really, I understand that the popularity is pro Ukraine rather than anti-russia. I understand that the American conservatives are in love with the Russians. They don’t think the Russians are so bad at all. They like being in bed with the Russians. They want Russian oil to keep things going and they don’t give a crap who dies. And along these lines, I don’t see too many people voluntarily getting out of their automobiles in support of a free Ukraine. Because this would be the only thing that would truly support the end of this war. If people had en masse decided to start riding their bikes instead of driving their cars, this war never would have happened and if it did, it would have ended in about a week.
I’m sorry, I’m just a bit confused. I don’t understand why we need to do any of this. We’re wasting our time and murdering each other just to continue the right to continue a party that does nothing but enrich a tiny number of people and impoverished, enslave and physically harm the vast percentage of the population and eventually the planet itself. I just don’t get why we allow this to happen to ourselves.
So like I said, I’m going to go eat a small vegan breakfast. Probably just some buckwheat and cabbage leaves with some lentils. Not very much at all. And then I’m going to get on my bicycle and go to town and pick up a few small parts that I need to finish my water system. And I’m going to do all of this by public transportation.
I vote for peace. I vote for ecology. I do not vote for economy. I do not vote for jobs. I do not vote for perpetuation of slavery. I do not vote for massive divisions of wealth. I vote for agriculture and ecology and the survival of the planet and all the living things on it. I don’t vote for lies. I don’t vote for drugs. I vote for reality.
***
Well, it’s a little bit after 6:00 p.m. and I am crashed out in my ex-partner’s apartment. Today was probably my most smooth and successful day since I’ve been making my day trips to town this year. I was on time and under budget. Where there were problems, the fix made them better off than the original plan. My social interactions were enjoyable and sharp and most importantly, I got everything that I was looking for.
I had to run a little bit to get to the market on time but amazingly, though probably 90% of the market had gone home, the electrical shop and my favorite plumbing guy were both still there and doing business. From the electrical place, I got a new soldering pencil, some flux and solder to put together my electrical work a touch more professionally. And I got all the fittings I need for my pump. I have two options for this and we have an automatic shut off via our telephones just to make everything a little bit more smooth.
And then we got the best news and the best surprise of the day. Well I was sitting out in the garden and trying to figure out the architecture for trellising the beans, I came up with the idea of getting a skill saw. It is a tool that I don’t have but if I had a skill saw, I would be able to rip boards lengthwise into rather durable wooden sticks. I have all the junk wood I need for basically anything and hacking up 10 or 12 boards would give me enough sticks for anything my garden needs for the next 4 or 5 years. We’re not doing tomatoes this year, but if we did, here’s the sticks.
How I came to this conclusion was from all of my other ideas on how to suspend a board two meters off the ground. Our Bean Garden is really only 4 m long and no matter what I did, we would be blocking a significant amount of light. The boards I have are 11 cm across and no matter what you do to build with them, you’re cutting into the light. What I wanted was sticks.
Of course we have a perfectly good Forest and it’s not such a stupid idea to go walking around. I can probably find all the sticks I need growing naturally out there. The issue with this is simply that nature is not particularly straight. I could do this, it’s just a matter of trying to do it, but really what I wanted was something straight and repeatable. I am not really so much into aesthetics and certainly not as much as I’m into function but I wanted something smart and tight. I wanted something that could be built well and have some knowledge that it’s not going to fall apart.
I was going to do some shopping at the market. Obviously there are plenty of skill saws lying around. But last night, I went online and found a really good deal. A well-made instrument, no laser marker but well made with all attachments complete and for a very reasonable price. It was the best quality saw I saw until you reached even two or three times the price. This was a brilliant bargain.
I spent a little bit too much time at the Jewish community in the morning. I was enjoying my conversation with my friend over there and by the time we got finished, I had to run to make lunch with my ex partner. This pretty much settled the argument because I would have time to get to the market before they closed, but I would not have time to do any serious comparative shopping. Also, I won’t lie, I am more than a little happy that I don’t have to carry a skill saw around in my bike bag. Yes, I believe in bicycling. I’m also not angry when I get something delivered to my house.
Russia wins again. Sorry. I’m not perfect.
But then something crazy happened. At first, my ex partner asked me if I could wait on this instrument for a month. She said that they often have sales coming up and if we waited until next month, we might save some money. I thought this was an absolutely foolish idea. We need to trellis the beans and the peas now. I need sticks now.
She agreed and made the call and I made sure that enough money was available to pay for everything. The order was sent off, I did my last movements of the day and showed up at her apartment to take my first bath in about two and a half weeks. The water has been off in town and other than doing simple wash ups at home, which is not so bad, it is nice to avail myself of the luxury of a nice hot bath from time to time.
I was just about ready to turn on the water when I got a note from my ex partner telling me that we would be taking delivery on Sunday between 10:00 and 2:00. The problem was that the cost was too small. It was something like 25% less than we were supposed to pay for this item. This item was already underpriced. It sounded like a mistake.
We both Dove back into the system and found the order blank and sure enough, they had erased our original price and discounted the entire purchase more than 25%. It was 25% with the delivery included!
Listen, people laugh at cheap people. There are all kinds of jokes about people who are too frugal. I know that I’m a cheapskate. I can tell you all about the cobwebs growing in my wallet. I don’t like to spend money because I don’t like the things money can buy and having lived here for 20 years with the ridiculous economy we have had over those two decades, anybody who wastes money should be punched in the nose.
Was I happy with the savings? Are you crazy? Of course I was. It’s like Christmas. It’s like getting a good deal and then finding out you won something simply by making the right choice. It feels like we’re on a game show or something like that and today we won the big jackpot.
Let’s not overstate things.
Right now my ex partner is in the kitchen putting together a light something. I found a couple of tasty crackers at the store that will go well with some kind of potato dish and maybe avocados. It’s too hot to really want to eat too much.
My partner is on the midnight train heading north to visit her family. And even if this is true and she hasn’t found herself a new boyfriend somewhere, we can share a cab. I’ll drop her off at the train station and then I’ll head home.
There are some more nuances about today that I might talk about a little bit later. I got some more help with this week’s Torah reading. I might get to that tonight but most likely, it’ll be a part of tomorrow.
We got some rain today, there is none planned for tomorrow but for sure tomorrow night will be my first time using the new pump to water the field.
For the moment, I can’t really think of anything else worth talking about. I know I started in kind of a crappy mood today. The bike riding, the easy weather and everything that happened good for me here in town has sort of pushed me up. I don’t feel quite so bad anymore and I very much enjoyed the workout. I guess I’ll just let the phone charge for a little while and have something nice to eat. I’ll check back in a little bit later.
***
I think we should close this up for the day. I’m still camped out in my ex partner’s apartment and we’ve finally come to the time for some serious packing. We’ve been sitting around and talking quietly about important things for a while now. Adieu, adieu, parting is such sweet sorrow. The nunchestology begins before the journey and already we’re missing each other. I think she planned this trip when we were fighting.
But it’s nice I think to get away in the summertime. She has family a long ways away from here and I can’t blame her for wanting to spend time there. And really, I probably haven’t been paying enough attention. We all have our reasons. But then suddenly you have an opportunity to be kind to each other and suddenly everything changes.
We were just talking about how many women in my life want some intimate attention from me and, when they don’t get it, they pull all the strings they can possibly find to make my life miserable. Sitting here and laughing about it, there is a line of women who just absolutely hate me for no other reason that they don’t get the love they need from me.
I don’t know how I got that job. I don’t remember being a professional gigolo. I don’t remember making my money off women. I seem to recall that I was an English teacher. Usually, it was a matter of parents coming to me and asking me to make sure that their children got a broad minded and interesting education. Through me, they could have new and better ideas and maybe even improve their language skills if they did their homework. I don’t remember being beholden to women for my living. I don’t remember being under anybody’s heel.
Maybe this is just the times we live in. Feminism has made a great circle. How many celebrities have had their life stripped away because they attempt to use power to get sex. Can you imagine that? Of course you can. That’s the only reason to try and get power is to have it and to get what you can get from it. Look at all the people who I complain about on these pages and you tell me what it is that all of them have in common. They want to be in power and they are corrupt people. There is no other way to describe it. It’s just the same nonsense again and again. I have no idea why I have to be so lucky.
A friend of mine once called me a shit magnet. From his point of view, this is obviously correct. I got into some fast dialogue with Zhenya the bike mechanic about how talking to me was problematic because the KGB would come in behind me and tell people that they shouldn’t be talking to an American. He had no problem jumping in on that conversation. He knew exactly what we were talking about and that it was not anything connected to humor in any way at all. This was just a pragmatic retelling of our relationship. God bless the Russians for ruining everything.
Then of course there is my relative. My greedy son of a bitch relative that I am completely free of. We were talking about him standing in the road screaming at the top of his lungs about how much power he had and how his ass needed to be kissed. I mean, how did he get in this picture? I just noticed something weird in the baseball schedule one day and saw there was a chance for a once-in-a-lifetime trip up to Boston to see the Red Sox play the Giants. My dad was an old man, his team was the Red Sox and mine was the Giants. It was a perfect storm. That one had nostalgia and intimacy written all over it.
But then there was my relative in all his glory demanding that the attention all be paid to him. Mr power.
“Why didn’t you be nice to him?” This was my ex partner trying to be pragmatic and nice.
“Why should I?”
“If you were nicer to him, he would have been nicer to you?”
I’m thinking now of the fat lady who runs the clinic that takes care of my legs.
“Why weren’t you nicer to her?”
“What are you talking about? I don’t even know the woman”
“All she wanted was love.”
“And when she is deprived of her love, she becomes a mass murderer? This professional torturer, this person who takes pleasure by giving other people pain, are you genuinely trying to tell me that I am to blame because I did not immediately fall in love with her because of her massive power?”
“Isn’t that the way we live?”
Well, I’m just not good at it. No offense, I just like it when people do their job. In 20 years of teaching, I never required anyone to kiss my ass in order to get a grade or to get my attention. I didn’t need any fluffing up. I just needed the homework done. I just like people who did their homework and tried to learn to speak better in English. All this interpersonal shit had nothing to do with acquiring language skills. I just wanted a good conversation. I just wanted people to think for themselves.
Did I tell you that I wrote a couple of books about corruption? Does it mean anything to you when you hear me say the words that I have written a couple of books about corruption? What I mean to say is, do you think it’s appropriate to ask me to kiss people’s asses and fluff them up just because they have power? Do you think it’s appropriate to ask someone who has written two books about corruption, 16 plays and 3 million words about the effects of corruption on a voteless society to kiss someone’s ass? Do you really think I’m too stupid to understand the situation?
All I’m saying is, doing your job would not be kissing my ass. Maybe this is the curse of the corrupt. This is similar to a curse I learned about back in San Francisco many years ago. A friend of mine taught me about the curse of the liar. The curse of the liar is that they themselves cannot truly believe anyone else is telling the truth. They lose that bit of themselves when they sell their ass to the devil for a little more power.
Yes, the curse of the corrupt. Suddenly my mind goes back to a big band concert in the middle of Pinsk. This big band is sponsored by the city but they are absolute trash in 90% of their songs. The players don’t care. There’s no sharpness in what they do. There’s no attention paid to anything anywhere along the line. They’re just mailing it in and the music sounds like shit.
“The concert is a little disappointing, isn’t it?”
“Do you know how much they pay us? Do you really think we’re going to play for how much money they are paying us?”
“Maybe you just want to do it for the music. Maybe you just want to do it for the pride and love for playing really good music and being a part of a really hot band.”
Anyway, tomorrow is another day. While my ex partner is off on her train ride, I will be waking up to my Thursday. I’ve got lots of New gear to put together. Tomorrow will be fun.
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