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midsummer

By rmolauzon ·
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7eleven

by rmolauzon In reply to midsummer

Ok for those who knows the stranger nowadays, they'd point out that I literally live near the roadside, near a certain big mall, and a new 7eleven being built. If any of this prophecy (stolen from <span class='ljuser' style='white-space: nowrap;'><a href='img">http://bench.livejournal.com/profile'><img src='http://stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif' alt='[info]' width='17' height='17' style='vertical-align: bottom; border: 0;' /></a><a href='b>bench</b></a></span>">http://bench.livejournal.com/'><b>bench</b></a></span> holds true then I hope its the 7eleven that being built near where I am. On second thought, discovered for what?<br /><br /><center><table border="1" width="450"><td><br /><table border="0" width="450" bgcolor="#000000" cellspacing="0">
<tr><td bgcolor="#EEEEEE" colspan="3" align="center"><br />What does your future hold?</td></tr>
<tr><td bgcolor="#EEEEEE" width="15%"></td><td width="70%" bgcolor="#EEEEEE" align="center"><font color="#000000"><br /><b>You will be discovered by a big Hollywood director at the 7-11<br /></b><br /></font></td><td bgcolor="#EEEEEE" width="15%"></td></tr>
<tr><td colspan="3" bgcolor="#000000" align="center"><img src="http://www.quizgalaxy.com/result_images/crystalball.jpg" alt="eerie crystal ball!" /></td></tr>
<tr><td colspan="3" align="center" bgcolor="#999999"><a href="http://www.quizgalaxy.com/quiz.php?id=51">Take this quiz</a> <font color="#FFFFFF">at</font> <a href="http://www.quizgalaxy.com">QuizGalaxy.com</a></td></tr>
</table></td>
</table></center><p><div class="blogdisclaim"><a href="http://fullview.livejournal.com/56119.html">This post originally appeared on an external website</a></div>

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Addiction

by rmolauzon In reply to midsummer

Not only did I once again find myself in the middle of things - <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0117951/">wishing for a Trainspotting scene</a>. But while the oranges bled red, the dragons drove and all that, the music kept on playing:<br /><blockquote>And if you can't be, with the one you love, honey, love the one you're with,<br />love the one you're with, love the one you're with, love the one you're with.<br />--<a href="http://www.csny.net/">CSNY</a> [Love The One You?re With]</blockquote><br /><br />And for the addiction in you, a short news:<br /><center><a href="http://us.gizmodo.com/gadgets/coffeebeer/index.php">Coffee Beer a Swiss Invention</a></center><p><div class="blogdisclaim"><a href="http://fullview.livejournal.com/56556.html">This post originally appeared on an external website</a></div>

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Untitled

by rmolauzon In reply to midsummer

<p><br /> <br /><br /></p><p><div class="blogdisclaim"><a href="http://fullview.livejournal.com/56630.html">This post originally appeared on an external website</a></div>

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Fox Hole Kid

by rmolauzon In reply to midsummer

<div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/midsummer/62459006/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://static.flickr.com/30/62459006_10a701c78d_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /></a> <br /> <span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/midsummer/62459006/">Fox Hole Kid</a> <br /> Originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/midsummer/">midsummer</a>. </span></div>How does one even think of revenge when you are so near the finish line. I often wonder how it feels to have the enemy on site during times of war. How the hesitation should feel before the trigger is pulled.<br /><br />Jim Morrison recited in an <b>American Prayer</b>:<br /><blockquote><i>...<br />Strangers in the mud<br /><br />These mutants, blood-meal<br />for the plant that's plowed<br />they are waiting to take us into<br />the severed garden<br /><br />Do you know how pale & wanton thrillful<br />comes death on a stranger hour<br />unannounced, unplanned for<br /><br />like a scaring over-friendly guest you've brought to bed<br /><br />Death makes angels of us all<br />& gives us wings<br />where we had shoulders<br />smooth as raven's claws</i></blockquote><br />And smooth as raven's claws, here a poem from Grantland Rice:<br /><blockquote><b>Two Sides of War (All Wars)</b><br /><br />"All wars are planned by older men<br />In council rooms apart,<br />Who call for greater armament<br />And map the battle chart.<br /><br />But out along the shattered field<br />Where golden dreams turn gray,<br />How very young the faces were<br />Where all the dead men lay.<br /><br />Portly and solemn in their pride,<br />The elders cast their vote<br />For this or that, or something else,<br />That sounds the martial note.<br /><br />But where their sightless eyes stare out<br />Beyond life's vanished toys,<br />I've noticed nearly all the dead<br />Were hardly more than boys."</blockquote><br />Why war? The <b><i>Stranger</i></b> doesn't know just yet...<br clear="all" /><br /><center><b>...birds of prey, birds of prey, flying high?</b></center><p><div class="blogdisclaim"><a href="http://fullview.livejournal.com/56868.html">This post originally appeared on an external website</a></div>

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Einstein Board

by rmolauzon In reply to midsummer

<div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/midsummer/64536580/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://static.flickr.com/25/64536580_968e3d9d88_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /></a> <br /> <span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/midsummer/64536580/">EinsteinBoard</a> <br /> Originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/midsummer/">midsummer</a>. </span></div>The image says it all:<br clear="all" /><p><div class="blogdisclaim"><a href="http://fullview.livejournal.com/57427.html">This post originally appeared on an external website</a></div>

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Soul Found and Given

by rmolauzon In reply to midsummer

It was pretty well summed up by Ursula K. LeGuin:<br />"<i>The only thing that makes life possible is permanent, intolerable uncertainty; not knowing what comes next.</i>"<br /><center>and</center><br />"<i>What sane person could live in this world and not be crazy?</i>"<br /><blockquote>Soul was found, immediately the universe conspired to have it offered - given up. The Stranger journeys on, incoherent and lacking sleep - tomorrow shall take care of itself.<br /><br /><b>r a n d o m i m a g e s</b><br /><img src="img">http://static.flickr.com/28/64759331_a790183629.jpg"><img src="br">http://static.flickr.com/33/64759330_16a3eec3e3.jpg"><br /><br><img src="img">http://static.flickr.com/29/63368656_54e0895621.jpg"><img src="br">http://static.flickr.com/28/59983878_5a4f5caeb9.jpg"><br /><br><img src="img">http://static.flickr.com/25/59983883_e8dd9d6670.jpg"><img src="/blockquote><p><div">http://static.flickr.com/30/64759335_4ddaf688d7.jpg"></blockquote><p><div class="blogdisclaim"><a href="http://fullview.livejournal.com/58049.html">This post originally appeared on an external website</a></div>

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I Kiss the World with Fingers Crossed

by rmolauzon In reply to midsummer

The stranger was stuck on this song for awhile: last post <a href="b>(A">http://www.livejournal.com/users/fullview/54548.html?mode=reply"><b>(A Song for No One)</b></a>. It moved the air with a strange sadness, a strange melancholy - yet was very hopeful. Let me correct my previous post first:<br /><blockquote><b>Song for No One</b><br />By: <a href="http://wwww.ianbroudie.com">Ian Broudie</a><br /><br />From night sky's dressed in cloud<br />Morning came your taste in my mouth<br />I like the way that your hair falls down in your eyes<br /><br />And you blush when you smile,<br />when sleep becomes your sign and far away fly<br />I love the way that you stare<br />when the sleep fills your eyes<br /><br />So yesterday has gone, who knows<br />tomorrow may bring all we'll desire<br />Tomorrow, bring the sun<br /><br />Kiss the world with fingers crossed<br />I kiss the world with fingers crossed<br /><br />I've been praised, I've been cursed,<br />I've been blamed and I've won and I've lost<br /><br />On ways to thaw your heart the future glides<br />I hope the serpents in the tide are all gone<br />What's done is done<br /><br />A <i>song for no one</i>'s in my hand<br />A song they'll never understand 'til I have gone<br />And tomorrow brings the sun</blockquote><br />Should I simply be listening to Rivermaya's <i>'Balisong'</i>?<br /><blockquote>Your face lights up the sky on the highway.<br />Someday, you'll share your world with me someday.<br />You mesmerize me with diamond eyes;<br />I try to fool myself to think I'll be alright.<br />But I am losing all control -<br />My mind, my heart, my body and my soul<br /><br />Never in my life have I been more sure,<br />So come on up to me and close the door.<br />Nobody's made me feel this way before;<br />You're everything I wanted and more.</blockquote><br />Unlike the bravery and courage of <span class='ljuser' style='white-space: nowrap; text-decoration: line-through;'><a href='img">http://warehousejam.livejournal.com/profile'><img src='http://stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif' alt='[info]' width='17' height='17' style='vertical-align: bottom; border: 0;' /></a><a href='b>warehousejam</b></a></span>">http://warehousejam.livejournal.com/'><b>warehousejam</b></a></span> in her friendster blog: <a href="http://xtna.blogs.friendster.com/naranja/">Sweet Syncopation</a>. I have to agree with her, to catch the dillema before it creates too much ripple. I'd want to tell you dear friend how you have kept me alive - and for that alone I am eternally grateful. I have been non-existant as a friend, I know that and I will have yet to come out of my shell. Give me courage... let me entertain the uncertainty and cover it with fairytales, recover and dream. No I have not yet commited to staying in another reality, another person's life - not just yet, wait till I tell you what happened after the <b><i>weather changed</i></b>.<br /><blockquote><br />To speak or not to; where to begin.<br />The way dilemmas I'm finding myself in.<br />For all I know you only see me as a friend.<br />I try to tell myself wake up fool; this fairy tale's got to end.</blockquote><br /><center><img src="/center><br">http://static.flickr.com/27/66417428_c0d136d323.jpg"></center><br />Still I have to kiss the world with fingers crossed, a thin line of sanity escaping the insanity that I choose. This time around something's got to give. The tiny dance of rain falling covers what I wish to convey, I still speak in rhymes, in painful allegories of the abstract - to maintain the uncertain certainties? A suspension of disbelief? A mask for the pain? For whatever reason there is simply no rhyme in the Stranger's life...<br /><center><b>but then a glimpse of hope. A flicker of light - for the first time since I last met that soul.</b></center><br /><blockquote><blockquote>Now...<br />on to the maddening and ever lovable <i>Global Warming</i>:<br />You, who is most dedicated, I owe you one<br />I know I am all about the flying<br />all about the dreaming<br />but, I know I can watch the sunsets<br />listen to the fall of rain<br />stop and pause - in parks<br />some beautiful and other not<br /><br />there is so much more in this story<br />we have found ourselves in...</blockquote></blockquote><p><div class="blogdisclaim"><a href="http://fullview.livejournal.com/58222.html">This post originally appeared on an external website</a></div>

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No Pictures Please

by rmolauzon In reply to midsummer

<p>Little did we know that the exploration of getting to know ourselves involved a little of each and every little pain imaginable. A pandora's box of all the vile and dreary - yet when you are just about to give up, at the very moment the pain is really unbearable you find a little bit of <em>hope</em>.</p>
<p align="center"><img src="http://static.flickr.com/34/67380565_064e831e69_m.jpg" title="" height="240" width="240" alt="Pandora's Box: Sacred Geometry Interpretation" class="" /></p>
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<p> <span style="FONT-FAMILY: verdana,arial,helvetica"><span style="COLOR: #333333; FONT-FAMILY: verdana,arial,helvetica"><i>"I decline to accept the end of man. It is easy enough to say that man is immortal simply because he will endure: that when the last dingdong of doom has clanged and faded from the last worthless rock hanging tideless in the last red and dying evening, that even then there will still be one more sound: that of his puny inexhaustible voice, still talking. I refuse to accept this. I believe that man will not merely endure: he will prevail. He is immortal, not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance. The poet's, the writer's, duty is to write about these things. It is his privilege to help man endure by lifting his heart, by reminding him of the courage and honor and hope and pride and compassion and pity and sacrifice which have been the glory of his past. The poet's voice need not merely be the record of man, it can be one of the props, the pillars to help him endure and prevail."</i></span>
<br />
<a href="http://www.quoteland.com/tellafriend/index.asp?QUOTE_ID=3547" /><span style="FONT-FAMILY: verdana,arial,helvetica">-<em><a href="http://www.quoteland.com/author.asp?AUTHOR_ID=1356">William Faulkner</a>, <u>speech at the Nobel Banquet at the City Hall in Stockholm</u>, December 10, 1950</em></span></span></p>
</blockquote>
<p>The day started innocently with a short but sweet delivery of a song quote: "<em>Do you like watchin' puddles gather rain?</em>" (from the Blind Melons). Followed by a series of disconnected but shareworthy life experiences. The friend who received that quote suddenly lost a home, a daughter and a previous life. She was left with a shirt on her back and couple of insignificant change to be able to get her one busride anywhere within the metro. Dropped in with a stick of *** but without a lighter she said shee needed to talk. The stranger then proceeds to hear her out and even introduce her to a couple of friends, a toast and a couple of bottles after - conversation mellowed to a glass stain reminder of the infinite, the realm of Morpheus the king. A hug and a few observers, quick glances of wiping tears away was broken by the proud and the brave cops of the city. Jumping forward with a verdict that we were in the middle of an act, a scandalous intimation that credited a short ride to the barangay hall and later the police precinct. Totally unbelievable but the Stranger with Ms. Weather just sat it out with the best of smiles and the humblest sales pitch ever in our lives. The four or more hours of 'slammer' scene finally ended with the cops begging us to help them out with their image, the best price for a calling card, a new design for their business cards even and of course a web site for their 'uhm' purposes - at which Randy comments, "<em>That site will be difficult! It involves a lot of commerce and of course e-commerce.</em>"</p>
<p>Anyhow, my favorite Russian writer has this to say about prison and society:</p>
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<p> <span style="FONT-FAMILY: verdana,arial,helvetica"><font color="#333333" face="verdana,arial,helvetica" size="2">"<em>The degree of civilization in a society can be judged by entering the prisons.</em>"</font> <font face="verdana,arial,helvetica" size="2">-<em><a href="http://www.quoteland.com/author.asp?AUTHOR_ID=1364">Fyodor Dostoyevsky</a>, <u>The House of the Dead</u></em></font></span></p>
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<p>My apologies for those who waited, those who had to carry my things back without knowing where I have gone off to. It was a weird meditation on freedom, sitting by allowing your spirit to be manhandled while staring at the season's decors. A motif of '<em>Separate Realities</em>' ("A warrior lives by acting, not by thinking about acting, nor by thinking about what he will think when he has finished acting." - Carlos Castaneda) with the Christian God's silver fleece - Christmas twinkle in the not so <em>silent night</em>. Sitting, waiting, smiling we realized the Christmas was around the bend and we were none the better for the magic it still supposed to cast.</p>
<p align="center"> "Real knowledge is to know the extent of one's ignorance."<strong>~ <a style="BORDER-BOTTOM-STYLE: groove" href="http://www.thinkarete.com/quotes/by_teacher/confucius/">Confucius</a></strong></p><p><div class="blogdisclaim"><a href="http://fullview.livejournal.com/58433.html">This post originally appeared on an external website</a></div>

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Sandbox

by rmolauzon In reply to midsummer

<b>To my sandbox playmate, I miss you and I still love you. Russia had it all the last time, but then there's still this funny feeling that this lifetime hasn't been quite fulfilled yet.</b><br /><blockquote>As a child I loved the sandbox, it meant a certain comfort - a nation of my own, sovereign. It included enough dreams and enough space to create and recreate reality(ies). It had enough sand to make castles and enough space to be free. The sandbox had all the elements alchemists talked about: <i>earth, fire, air, water, dreams, passion and love</i> - where you say? Well it all begins in a little child play that forms the mind into a fortress of ideas, all encompassing. When one steps into the sandbox, everything around stops making sense, from a child to a buddha, a doubting thomas to a zealous paul - the sandbox (can't help repeating this) just had it all.<br /><br />There is also a certain comfort in the sandbox's limitation. How the litte, how reality seemed to only extend up till where the sandpile runs out. How this little boundary makes sense but does not bother is into a frenzy of limitations. A sandbox if you have never been in one, is your tiny little universes where you can be yourself, honest, bare and naked. What you did and what you brought was accepted, a bucket, a shovel and few action figures. A shovel, flip flops and flags. I cannot help but remember how you sat on steps thinking, when age took us away - we still had heaven in a glass, tiny umbrellas covering. Did you keep those tiny umbrellas by the way?<br /><br />You kept my soul.<br /><blockquote>By A. Pushkin<br /><br />If I walk the noisy streets,<br />Or enter a many thronged church,<br />Or sit among the wild young generation,<br />I give way to my thoughts.<br /><br />I say to myself: the years are fleeting,<br />And however many there seem to be,<br />We must all go under the eternal vault,<br />And someone's hour is already at hand.<br /><br />When I look at a solitary oak<br />I think: the patriarch of the woods.<br />It will outlive my forgotten age<br />As it outlived that of my grandfathers'.<br /><br />If I caress a young child,<br />Immediately I think: farewell!<br />I will yield my place to you,<br />For I must fade while your flower blooms.<br /> <br /><br />Each day, every hour<br />I habitually follow in my thoughts,<br />Trying to guess from their number<br />The year which brings my death.<br /><br /><br />And where will fate send death to me?<br />In battle, in my travels, or on the seas?<br />Or will the neighbouring valley<br />Receive my chilled ashes?<br /><br /> And although to the senseless body<br />It is indifferent wherever it rots,<br />Yet close to my beloved countryside<br />I still would prefer to rest.<br /><br /><br />And let it be, beside the grave's vault<br />That young life forever will be playing,<br />And impartial, indifferent nature<br />Eternally be shining in beauty.<br /><br />--<a href="http://www.pushkins-poems.com/">Views of St. Petersburg in the 19th Century</a></blockquote><br />No longer under cover of darkness, we stepped out of the sandbox, afraid and hoping we made responsible choices. Responsibility is a funny word, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Responsibility">its etymology ultimately relates to Latin <i>respondere</i> (to reply)</a>. Funny in the sense that it also pantomimes in direct proportion: Free Will (see article on: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Free_will#Moral_responsibility">Moral Responisbilty </a&gt - <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ex_nihilo_nihil_fit">hence ex nihilo nihil fit</a></i>. Nothing comes from nothing, a dogmatic conundrum especially when argued that creation was from a nothing, but then are we to argue this in a metaphysical context of syntax? Bordering on the sacred <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aum">AUM sound</a> and the sandbox rant may even lead to quantum physics, when all we wanted to tackle was the intentions of being in the moment, fully conscious and alive. And during the sandbox days as a child, I maintained in my journals a quote by Alan Watts: <br /><center><i>"No work for love will flourish out of guilt, fear, or hollowness of heart, just as no valid plans for the future can be made by those who have no capacity for living now."</i></center><br />And the entire statement may be taken as a good practice of Faith or what A. Watts called <a href="u>the">http://www.thedailyinspiration.com/archives/1003/17.htm"><u>the Wisdom of Insecurity</u></a>:<br /><blockquote>There is no formula for generating the authentic warmth of love. It cannot be copied. You cannot talk yourself into it or rouse it by straining at the emotions or by dedicating yourself solemnly to the service of mankind. Everyone has love, but it can only come out when he is convinced of the impossibility and the frustration of trying to love himself. This conviction will not come through condemnations, through hating oneself, through calling self love bad names in the universe. It comes only in the awareness that one has no self to love.</blockquote><br />Since in this sense, a presupposition is somehow taken in as a form of Faith, of having come from something - and I don't believe in conversion and arguments in the realm of the intangible. Hence let us just be comfortable in knowing:<br /><blockquote>"The self is a contrived collection of attachments, beliefs, and expectations. To exist, the self requires our full attention, like a movie requires the light inside the projector. When the light is turned off, the movie ceases. Stop the show and move into the moment."<br /><br />"The power of memories and expectations is such that for most human beings, the past and the future are not as real, but rather more real than the present."</blockquote><br /><br /><a href="http://www.thedailyinspiration.com/archives/0704/15.htm">July 15, 2004 - Watts</a><br /><br />Like the <a href="http://www.buddhanet.net/chant-metta.htm">Chants of Metta (Pali Buddhists Texts)</a>:<br /><br />May our decisions then in the now take us to places where are minds and hearts are truly alive and happy. Laughter, tears, smiles and whispers are all part of the moment fully expressed. May we never be questioned, never be thrown behind bars for expressing our passion. May our flights and dreams be one, in this way we may always be together. <b>Blessed BE!</b><br /><br /><center>Om Mani P?dme Hum</center><br />*note: Gen Rinpoche, in his commentary on the Meaning of said: "The mantra Om Mani P?dme Hum is easy to say yet quite powerful, because it contains the essence of the entire teaching. When you say the first syllable Om it is blessed to help you achieve perfection in the practice of generosity, Ma helps perfect the practice of pure ethics, and Ni helps achieve perfection in the practice of tolerance and patience. P?d, the fourth syllable, helps to achieve perfection of perseverance, Me helps achieve perfection in the practice of concentration, and the final sixth syllable Hum helps achieve perfection in the practice of wisdom..."</blockquote><p><div class="blogdisclaim"><a href="http://fullview.livejournal.com/59020.html">This post originally appeared on an external website</a></div>

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Strange Outfit Tips from Netscape.com & Reuters.com

by rmolauzon In reply to midsummer

The <b>Stranger</b> was just browsing around the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/World_wide_web">World Wide Web</a> this morning and found several interesting articles. A friend was just commenting how it seems that most of the <a href="http://today.reuters.com/News/News.aspx">headlines</a> for <i><a href="http://christmas.com/">the season to be jolly</a></i> seems to be focused on executions and/or deaths. Sad but true, anyhow the articles I cam across had the following headlines:<br /><ol><li><a href="http://channels.netscape.com/careers/package.jsp?name=fte/wearjeans/wearjeans&floc=wn-np">If you wear jeans to work every day, you could lose as much as two pounds a year. Find out the science! [click]</a></li><br /><li><a href="http://channels.netscape.com/careers/package.jsp?name=fte/sexyjobs/sexyjobs&floc=wn-np">Is your job on the "sexiest job" list? It isn't money that makes your job sexy in the eyes of others. It's something far more powerful and awe-inspiring. Click to find out what it is and the top 10 most sexy jobs. [click]</a></li><br /><li><a href="http://today.reuters.com/news/newsArticle.aspx?type=oddlyEnoughNews&storyID=2005-12-02T155528Z_01_DIT257314_RTRUKOC_0_US-CANADA-SEXSOMNIA.xml">Sexsomnia [click]</a></li><br /><li><a href="http://today.reuters.com/news/newsArticle.aspx?type=oddlyEnoughNews&storyID=2005-12-02T160548Z_01_DIT257931_RTRUKOC_0_US-LIFE-GORILLA.xml&archived=False">Lawsuit over ape's 'nipple fetish' settled [click]</a></li></ol><br />So I guess, in the most basic sense of it, the human race still has laughter or <i>strangeness</i> as it best medicine. Or will it just boil down to some sarcasm of the human soul rebelling against the stagnation of having nothing more interesting than a repetitive cycle of learning and relearning. After-all, a buddhic reply from Ms. Weather states that, "We keep continuing this cycle up until we have fully learned the lesson."<br /><br /><center><b>So Ms. Weather, is it time to break the cycle? Take flight then?</b></center><p><div class="blogdisclaim"><a href="http://fullview.livejournal.com/5**60.html">This post originally appeared on an external website</a></div>

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