Your ears ring like a falsetto choir within the great chamber auditorium of your head,
And the show is never over!
I don't even remember purchasing the tickets.
Welcome to a runny nose, and welcome to a style of up and down.
Because that's all up and down are; styles for the miles of crowded planet.
Drink your tired music like a bowl of wonton soup
Chunks will surprise you.
Swipe your debit, credit, hallmark card to purchase them
All of them.
Every inch of their REM.
I woke up to the winter concealed in valleys
Filled with fortune and ethernet cables.
What's your wifi password?
"Thanks, love."
Alright, thanks, love.
What a beautiful way to say "careful."
Carefree.
Curvature of some invisible decimal point.
I love you.
Saturday, June 30, 2012
Thursday, June 28, 2012
All Wretch, and No Vomit
It's been said a million times before, but most of us live quite backwards lives.
As Alan Watts once said.. lives of "all wretch, and no vomit."
Lives carried through on the tragic basis of co-opting oneself through fear of a great anonymous authority which demands that you sell your time to others; allows your existence to become commodified and monetized to a great factory of futility, always struggling and sweating and toiling in vain chasing order, cleanliness, and a foolish semblance of certainty in the same way that a dog attempts to chase its own tail, yet lacking the nonsensical lust for nothing which permeates the intangible flow of nature.
We live under the grand illusion that, when we work terribly boring, utterly draining, and bitterly humiliating jobs in the name of nothing more than money, that we are working towards a future of quite the opposite.
We push and struggle against the stream in an attempt to reach that crescendo of bliss and pleasure; we see work as the gateway towards truth, when, in fact, this futile pursuit does nothing more than convolute and warp the truth to such unrecognizable extremes that the struggle becomes the majority, and the bliss a fragmentary illusion; 2 days of symbolic release. Even within our traditional linguistics, we are tricked into believing that work comes first (hence why there is the 5-day 'work-week,' and the 2 day 'week-end') and all other pursuits are nothing but secondary fantasies which one can entertain in order to remain sane.
The insanity of 'work,' in this context, is that it is on-par with being at the bottom of a waterfall and attempting to swim back up, despite gravity and reality which flows on unabated, undisturbed, and blissfully carefree.
The fear of not making the attempt to swim back up the waterfall lies not in reality, but in abstract linguistics looping through abstract linguistics looping through abstract linguistics; collapsing inwards towards a great self-destruction as opposed to simply letting go of the practical concerns which suffocate the mind in opposition; "I would love to simply walk out on this office and hitch-hike to Los Angeles, but where the hell would my next meal come from? For the sake of self-preservation, I'll remain at this desk."
Even the Western Zen idea of 'treat work as play, and you'll have a much better day' is a strange coping mechanism that, in many ways, attempts to make an individual ignore their Tao which is telling them to let go of such a job and let themselves fall back down the waterfall and flow on with the river, wherever it may lead. That isn't to say that there aren't jobs which one can treat as play.. but the attitude of play towards a job should not be forced; it should come naturally. You should not be attempting to shut down that part of your mind which keeps telling you that you are wasting your time laboring for nothing more than self-preservation, the uphold unnecessary luxuries, and simple conveniences. There are 'jobs' out there.. or, rather, ways of making a living.. which do not require you to step away from life in order to sustain it, but are instead just as rich an aspect of true living as long trips to mysterious parts of the planet you have never visited before, reading books which click your constitution in a brand-new direction you would have never even imagined had existed prior, or getting up and taking a walk down the street simply because you feel like it.
Freedom exists. But it resides, as I would expect should be an obvious common sense, away from all forms of force. 'Freedom' does not reside in money or subordination to business owners.. it does not reside in the ability to choose which brand of paper towel you wish to purchase.. and it certainly does not reside in the decision to fill out your tax-return form tomorrow rather than today.
True freedom resides beyond all obligation, and in the ability to walk in and out of societal conception as one sees fit. A truly free individual can work a terrible job. Not out of a feeling of need, but out of a feeling of want. They can just as easily call up work one day and tell them they won't be showing up for any more shifts, and then take the meager amount of money they have made, pick a direction, and start walking, riding, driving, or flying for no other reason than because it is what they want to do. Because it feels natural, and it feels right.
The general attitude towards people of such a nature is one of disregard; they look at them like they have no consideration for others, as they leave co-workers dead in the water and 'forced' to work much harder due to the sudden absence. This is only a problem insofar as these co-workers take their jobs, as well as their society, seriously. In the same way that any philosophy which takes itself with absolute seriousness is, at its very basis, entirely wrong (regardless of the fact that what it may have to say is indeed interesting and valuable), our society is not only incorrect, but doomed in all aspects due to how seriously it demands to be taken. The truly free individual could have given two-weeks notice to make sure his co-workers could cope to a satisfactory extent, but then his message, or rather, his affectionate slap-in-the-face would have been missed entirely, and his very small part in attempting to better our society with a show not of malicious apathy, but of verve light-heartedness would never have had the chance to show itself at all.
In some situations, and in certain regards, such a message would be nothing but futile; but would be a futility far more meaningful than the 'Grand Futility' of treadmill labor. In other regards, it would make a positive dissident impression on many, whether sooner or later.
This isn't to say one shouldn't participate in society; but it is to say that nothing will get better until people start taking humanity, politics, philosophy, religion, and all things conceptual and consensually constructed far less seriously and, ideally, not seriously at all.
If a majority of your time is spent making a living as opposed to living, you can rest assured and admit to yourself that you are not at all free. What you consider to be 'living,' however, is entirely up to you.
Just follow your flow, absolutely and unconditionally.
As Alan Watts once said.. lives of "all wretch, and no vomit."
Lives carried through on the tragic basis of co-opting oneself through fear of a great anonymous authority which demands that you sell your time to others; allows your existence to become commodified and monetized to a great factory of futility, always struggling and sweating and toiling in vain chasing order, cleanliness, and a foolish semblance of certainty in the same way that a dog attempts to chase its own tail, yet lacking the nonsensical lust for nothing which permeates the intangible flow of nature.
We live under the grand illusion that, when we work terribly boring, utterly draining, and bitterly humiliating jobs in the name of nothing more than money, that we are working towards a future of quite the opposite.
We push and struggle against the stream in an attempt to reach that crescendo of bliss and pleasure; we see work as the gateway towards truth, when, in fact, this futile pursuit does nothing more than convolute and warp the truth to such unrecognizable extremes that the struggle becomes the majority, and the bliss a fragmentary illusion; 2 days of symbolic release. Even within our traditional linguistics, we are tricked into believing that work comes first (hence why there is the 5-day 'work-week,' and the 2 day 'week-end') and all other pursuits are nothing but secondary fantasies which one can entertain in order to remain sane.
The insanity of 'work,' in this context, is that it is on-par with being at the bottom of a waterfall and attempting to swim back up, despite gravity and reality which flows on unabated, undisturbed, and blissfully carefree.
The fear of not making the attempt to swim back up the waterfall lies not in reality, but in abstract linguistics looping through abstract linguistics looping through abstract linguistics; collapsing inwards towards a great self-destruction as opposed to simply letting go of the practical concerns which suffocate the mind in opposition; "I would love to simply walk out on this office and hitch-hike to Los Angeles, but where the hell would my next meal come from? For the sake of self-preservation, I'll remain at this desk."
Even the Western Zen idea of 'treat work as play, and you'll have a much better day' is a strange coping mechanism that, in many ways, attempts to make an individual ignore their Tao which is telling them to let go of such a job and let themselves fall back down the waterfall and flow on with the river, wherever it may lead. That isn't to say that there aren't jobs which one can treat as play.. but the attitude of play towards a job should not be forced; it should come naturally. You should not be attempting to shut down that part of your mind which keeps telling you that you are wasting your time laboring for nothing more than self-preservation, the uphold unnecessary luxuries, and simple conveniences. There are 'jobs' out there.. or, rather, ways of making a living.. which do not require you to step away from life in order to sustain it, but are instead just as rich an aspect of true living as long trips to mysterious parts of the planet you have never visited before, reading books which click your constitution in a brand-new direction you would have never even imagined had existed prior, or getting up and taking a walk down the street simply because you feel like it.
Freedom exists. But it resides, as I would expect should be an obvious common sense, away from all forms of force. 'Freedom' does not reside in money or subordination to business owners.. it does not reside in the ability to choose which brand of paper towel you wish to purchase.. and it certainly does not reside in the decision to fill out your tax-return form tomorrow rather than today.
True freedom resides beyond all obligation, and in the ability to walk in and out of societal conception as one sees fit. A truly free individual can work a terrible job. Not out of a feeling of need, but out of a feeling of want. They can just as easily call up work one day and tell them they won't be showing up for any more shifts, and then take the meager amount of money they have made, pick a direction, and start walking, riding, driving, or flying for no other reason than because it is what they want to do. Because it feels natural, and it feels right.
The general attitude towards people of such a nature is one of disregard; they look at them like they have no consideration for others, as they leave co-workers dead in the water and 'forced' to work much harder due to the sudden absence. This is only a problem insofar as these co-workers take their jobs, as well as their society, seriously. In the same way that any philosophy which takes itself with absolute seriousness is, at its very basis, entirely wrong (regardless of the fact that what it may have to say is indeed interesting and valuable), our society is not only incorrect, but doomed in all aspects due to how seriously it demands to be taken. The truly free individual could have given two-weeks notice to make sure his co-workers could cope to a satisfactory extent, but then his message, or rather, his affectionate slap-in-the-face would have been missed entirely, and his very small part in attempting to better our society with a show not of malicious apathy, but of verve light-heartedness would never have had the chance to show itself at all.
In some situations, and in certain regards, such a message would be nothing but futile; but would be a futility far more meaningful than the 'Grand Futility' of treadmill labor. In other regards, it would make a positive dissident impression on many, whether sooner or later.
This isn't to say one shouldn't participate in society; but it is to say that nothing will get better until people start taking humanity, politics, philosophy, religion, and all things conceptual and consensually constructed far less seriously and, ideally, not seriously at all.
If a majority of your time is spent making a living as opposed to living, you can rest assured and admit to yourself that you are not at all free. What you consider to be 'living,' however, is entirely up to you.
Just follow your flow, absolutely and unconditionally.
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
A Guide to Happiness: Socrates on Self-Confidence
The basics of philosophy seem to reside in the Socratic method. It is the simple truths of life that drove Socrates into the marketplaces and streets to begin his famous interrogation of society at large; not in order to prove his superiority over it, but instead in an attempt to wake the average man from his slumber of loose assumption.
Socrates, although born and raised in the Athenian cradle of democracy (which was, in reality, quite a masochistic display of male dominance, and was more of a guised dictatorship much like the modern illusion) was vehemently opposed to the way in which his particular democracy functioned. He believed the 'will of the majority' was not necessarily the right road to follow, as it did not always seem to tread a well-considered path, and was more liable, instead, to simply follow lazy assumptions and the power of opinion.
He believed that the truth, whether it regarded politics, philosophy, or general well-being, resided exclusively in logic. I am unsure as to what his alternative to democracy might have been, but I found myself, while watching the video linked above, opposing both arguments; that of Socrates, and that of democracy, leaving me in an undefined outside-middle-somewhere-where-the-hell-am-I position that resounded with the thought that on each side of the philosophical firing lines, both the democratic and the Socratic interpretations were archaic and too steeped in logic to truly grasp the intangible essence which resides beyond 'all of the above' (and by beyond, I mean that it is right underneath your nose and therefore seems almost too easy to be true).
I both agree and, at the same time disagree with Socrates thoughts on thinking.
Thought, as is represented in Eastern (most notably Buddhistic) thinking, is the root of much suffering. I agree with this if one is to whole-heartedly accept Socrates faith in logic and believe it to be the be-all and end-all. Grasping such a stiff rod and refusing to ever let go because it is the one and only way to reach that loose term we call the 'truth' is the same sort of faith which Socrates looked to abolish in asking the population of Athens to let go of their faith in popular opinion and lazy assumption. It is, ironically, a lazy assumption to assume that Socrates was right.
Philosophy, in my mind, is a beautiful tool as well as an interesting game in which intelligence whirls into intelligence, and eventually flushes the thought toilet to the point that it returns to the intangible essence upon which life is built. To read any philosopher and feel elation or depression at the lazy assumption that they must be right because they gave such-and-such so much thought is a flaw within the philosophical paradigm itself, and is a stage that many of us much traverse in order to come out on the other side where we can read Socrates, Epicurus, Buddah, Alan Watts, Descartes and Sarte, yet still say, 'no, I somewhat disagree.'
No matter what philosophy I read, I do not feel depression or elation because I think so-and-so is right or wrong... I feel, a majority of the time, an elation at the very existence of such layered consideration readily available to me, and only ever really feel depressive if I think, in my own interpretation, that who I am reading missed a key point regarding a very simple truth. This is why I completely reject nihilism. Not because I disagree with some of its tenements.. such as most things being objectively meaningless.. but because its unappreciative, pretentious and destructive attitude towards life misses so many key points that it almost seems like idiots invented the idea in the first place. Most philosophers that follow nihilism simply do it out of being locked in a Western hubris that has yet to be cleansed from our society's thought paradigm, yet which Socrates himself embraced so whole-heartedly: "As for me, all I know is that I know nothing." And that is the highest flight of human intelligence.. more accurately titled 'wisdom'.. which our Westernized thought process seems to ignore with a careless and ungrateful arrogance.
We have yet to fully transcend our ancient Roman roots.
I do not mean to say that Western thought is wrong and Eastern thought right; but I do think that the East/West divide is a hubris-driven abstraction which exists in a 'concrete' form only to the West, and exists to the East insofar as they wish to distance themselves from Western arrogance and capitalistic nihilism.
I suppose my point is.. any philosophy that takes itself very seriously is, at its very root, entirely incorrect.
Friday, June 22, 2012
It is addictive.
The countours of her face seem kind. Smooth. Elegant in the same way an old woman would be elegant, but it is only foreshadowed. It isn't now. Now she is a girl.
The shades of color she wears are not boasted. They are simply there, yet at the same time, hold a humid humility of necessary silence in her complete image.
I can't hear what she's saying, but the way her mouth moves, and the perceptual silhouhette of her face cast a feeling of warmth and gentleness upon the space between her and I.
I glance confidently back and forth between her stanced existence at the library's counter, and the scene I am echoing upon the screen.
Looking at her, I don't feel an immediate sexual attraction. I feel appreciation. I am happy she exists. I am glad there are still people like her in the world, which is filled with a dark self-imposing cynicism brought on by the flaunted shell-shock of consumer society. A great regressive immaturity is lost in her; she is still real.
I know through a strange pang of intuition that she has the potential to overwhelm me with her humid innocence. She could wrap her arms around my mind so gently as to make me revel in our great oneness and forget it to be a beautiful transcience, as if she owes it to me to be here. She could take me like Kiera took me. A silent integrity.
I used to fear such a silent integrity in women, but only because I felt I did not always possess it myself.
I no longer believe in 'falling' in love. It is dangerous. I have only lost myself in falling. Even if I had found myself before I came across such a sharp junction.
Falling in love, I think, is part of our society's great regressive immaturity. It is addictive, though.. like a pinched vein pumped full of heroin, or that aesthetic craving one has for coffee as their feet become one with puddles and rain, and they know the whole walk is ahead of them because the busses have finished their rounds for the day. The whole walk, you can not make the most of the beautiful unpleasantness. All you can think about is that piping hot cup of coffee, and what's in it for you.
But a cup of coffee is more like the dawn of a relationship, just as you stand on the precipice of self-bondange. The pinched vein full of heroin is more adequate to describe the chained and tortured depths of 'true' love. You fall so hard, you completely forget yourself and, for that matter, completely forget your lover as well. When finally the relationship comes to a nuclear ending, you are left struggling to find the peices amidst a cloud of tears. Sometimes you don't realize how sharp a peice you are picking up, and end up cutting yourself on the rubble. Your first impulse is to cry harder and let yourself bleed to death because there is something easy and fluent and beautiful about waiting around for death and pity.
Something addictive.
We forget how to rise in love, because it is always easier to sink than to swim. But if you truly want to survive, you will swim. Not only will you swim, you will climb. You will fly. You will become an astronaut of reality and see the Universe is really who you are. You will discover you are never alone, but to do that it takes a mountaineer; it takes a lifetime of energy, effort, and inexhaustible passion to find the truth.
But it is far easier to fall.
It is addictive.
The shades of color she wears are not boasted. They are simply there, yet at the same time, hold a humid humility of necessary silence in her complete image.
I can't hear what she's saying, but the way her mouth moves, and the perceptual silhouhette of her face cast a feeling of warmth and gentleness upon the space between her and I.
I glance confidently back and forth between her stanced existence at the library's counter, and the scene I am echoing upon the screen.
Looking at her, I don't feel an immediate sexual attraction. I feel appreciation. I am happy she exists. I am glad there are still people like her in the world, which is filled with a dark self-imposing cynicism brought on by the flaunted shell-shock of consumer society. A great regressive immaturity is lost in her; she is still real.
I know through a strange pang of intuition that she has the potential to overwhelm me with her humid innocence. She could wrap her arms around my mind so gently as to make me revel in our great oneness and forget it to be a beautiful transcience, as if she owes it to me to be here. She could take me like Kiera took me. A silent integrity.
I used to fear such a silent integrity in women, but only because I felt I did not always possess it myself.
I no longer believe in 'falling' in love. It is dangerous. I have only lost myself in falling. Even if I had found myself before I came across such a sharp junction.
Falling in love, I think, is part of our society's great regressive immaturity. It is addictive, though.. like a pinched vein pumped full of heroin, or that aesthetic craving one has for coffee as their feet become one with puddles and rain, and they know the whole walk is ahead of them because the busses have finished their rounds for the day. The whole walk, you can not make the most of the beautiful unpleasantness. All you can think about is that piping hot cup of coffee, and what's in it for you.
But a cup of coffee is more like the dawn of a relationship, just as you stand on the precipice of self-bondange. The pinched vein full of heroin is more adequate to describe the chained and tortured depths of 'true' love. You fall so hard, you completely forget yourself and, for that matter, completely forget your lover as well. When finally the relationship comes to a nuclear ending, you are left struggling to find the peices amidst a cloud of tears. Sometimes you don't realize how sharp a peice you are picking up, and end up cutting yourself on the rubble. Your first impulse is to cry harder and let yourself bleed to death because there is something easy and fluent and beautiful about waiting around for death and pity.
Something addictive.
We forget how to rise in love, because it is always easier to sink than to swim. But if you truly want to survive, you will swim. Not only will you swim, you will climb. You will fly. You will become an astronaut of reality and see the Universe is really who you are. You will discover you are never alone, but to do that it takes a mountaineer; it takes a lifetime of energy, effort, and inexhaustible passion to find the truth.
But it is far easier to fall.
It is addictive.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
My Dark Night of the Soul, Hip-Hop, Evenings of Legal Inebriation, the Past, the Present, and the Future
So, we're more than half-way through June, and I haven't posted a thing since near the end of last month.
I've contemplated new posts since.. but whenever I considered how much had occurred between then and now, I could never dredge up the motivation to write about it all. But I suppose I can get around to it now, espresso in one hand, a shimmering and lustful hope for my future and present in the other.
To start with.. I am officially 19! On the date of my birthday itself, I was actually doing my radio show, and as such, ganged-up with my 19-since-September co-host (one of the best friends I've ever had) to hit the bar before, during, and after being on air.
Turns out... I am capable of being significantly better at rapping when I'm drunk, once I strip away all the social anxiety's which would otherwise hold me back from giving it my all. I have since learned how to adapt without being drunk, and have noted myself to be growing exponentially in my free-styling, as well as my written-rap abilities. The fantasy of one day becoming a professional paid rapper is becoming less and less a dream, and much closer to reality.
However.. I have been getting far too drunk, far too often since my birthday, and have as such made the decision to lay off of alcohol for a little while so I don't start abusing my new-found 'privilege.'
I'll go back to sticking with the illegal drugs while I recuperate from the legal one.
The intense existential anxiety I've been experiencing lately is finally starting to subside now that I have completely faced it on numerous occasions at its worst, which has caused it to dissipate quite significantly. I believe I may be exiting what the Buddhists call "the dark night of the soul." And I'm happy for two things: 1; that I got to experience such profundity, and 2; that I am finally over with it to move on to new things in life. Perhaps, in the not too distant future, I will write about what this severe existential anxiety was like. Part of me truly wants to write paragraphs on it, while another part of me would rather leave it unsaid so I don't suddenly condemn someone else to it in reading about mine. However... I do think it's something everyone should go through at some point in their lives, because it really does wake you up in all aspects, and whether it was simply an illusion created out of anxiety or an honest truth, it really does feel like I walked through the 'valley of the shadow of death.' The strangest part about all of it is.. this is the most detailed I've gotten about it at all. Even on the occasions I felt it intensely in the presence of friends, I never really felt like telling them about it would solve anything, so I usually rode it out in complete silence amidst a small crowd.
One solid thing I learned from this experience.. fear is the mind killer. Now I face it all despite the fear. Not even death worries me anymore. Free yourself from fear, because that is what freedom really is.
On the work front, I am getting little to no hours at the bakery I've been working at since the end of April. I worked yesterday (Sunday), and don't work again until next Sunday. So, I've been offered a chance to get a job that pays upwards of $17 an hour, and am pretty dedicated to pursuing said opportunity, even if it means I may have to ditch the place in Lund to work in town. $17 an hour, at enough hours, will guarantee my way to the city in September; and that's my current focus in terms of goals at this point in my life. As long as I can save a minimum of 1 grand by that time, I'm good and gung-ho to go.
So, that's really it that I can think up at the moment. I'll be getting around to more philosophical and socially-related articles as the summer begins to hit full-force... I've also been brainstorming a few potential short story plots, so keep on the look out for those between now and apparent end-of-the-world this December! I can guarantee at least one more short story before the planets align and we all explode into spirit dust.
Peace out blue planet, I love you!
I've contemplated new posts since.. but whenever I considered how much had occurred between then and now, I could never dredge up the motivation to write about it all. But I suppose I can get around to it now, espresso in one hand, a shimmering and lustful hope for my future and present in the other.
To start with.. I am officially 19! On the date of my birthday itself, I was actually doing my radio show, and as such, ganged-up with my 19-since-September co-host (one of the best friends I've ever had) to hit the bar before, during, and after being on air.
Turns out... I am capable of being significantly better at rapping when I'm drunk, once I strip away all the social anxiety's which would otherwise hold me back from giving it my all. I have since learned how to adapt without being drunk, and have noted myself to be growing exponentially in my free-styling, as well as my written-rap abilities. The fantasy of one day becoming a professional paid rapper is becoming less and less a dream, and much closer to reality.
However.. I have been getting far too drunk, far too often since my birthday, and have as such made the decision to lay off of alcohol for a little while so I don't start abusing my new-found 'privilege.'
I'll go back to sticking with the illegal drugs while I recuperate from the legal one.
The intense existential anxiety I've been experiencing lately is finally starting to subside now that I have completely faced it on numerous occasions at its worst, which has caused it to dissipate quite significantly. I believe I may be exiting what the Buddhists call "the dark night of the soul." And I'm happy for two things: 1; that I got to experience such profundity, and 2; that I am finally over with it to move on to new things in life. Perhaps, in the not too distant future, I will write about what this severe existential anxiety was like. Part of me truly wants to write paragraphs on it, while another part of me would rather leave it unsaid so I don't suddenly condemn someone else to it in reading about mine. However... I do think it's something everyone should go through at some point in their lives, because it really does wake you up in all aspects, and whether it was simply an illusion created out of anxiety or an honest truth, it really does feel like I walked through the 'valley of the shadow of death.' The strangest part about all of it is.. this is the most detailed I've gotten about it at all. Even on the occasions I felt it intensely in the presence of friends, I never really felt like telling them about it would solve anything, so I usually rode it out in complete silence amidst a small crowd.
One solid thing I learned from this experience.. fear is the mind killer. Now I face it all despite the fear. Not even death worries me anymore. Free yourself from fear, because that is what freedom really is.
On the work front, I am getting little to no hours at the bakery I've been working at since the end of April. I worked yesterday (Sunday), and don't work again until next Sunday. So, I've been offered a chance to get a job that pays upwards of $17 an hour, and am pretty dedicated to pursuing said opportunity, even if it means I may have to ditch the place in Lund to work in town. $17 an hour, at enough hours, will guarantee my way to the city in September; and that's my current focus in terms of goals at this point in my life. As long as I can save a minimum of 1 grand by that time, I'm good and gung-ho to go.
So, that's really it that I can think up at the moment. I'll be getting around to more philosophical and socially-related articles as the summer begins to hit full-force... I've also been brainstorming a few potential short story plots, so keep on the look out for those between now and apparent end-of-the-world this December! I can guarantee at least one more short story before the planets align and we all explode into spirit dust.
Peace out blue planet, I love you!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Copyright
