Paw of the family anna tx

Coldplay tickets for Sweden Gothenborg for sale the 11th of July!
Me and my partner were supposed to be heading to Coldplay in Göteborg on the 11th of July and we were so excited but we have to cancel our trip as we've family weddings to go to here in Ireland and it would be very expensive to go to the concert now.
So if anyone wants two genuine standing tickets to Coldplay on the 11th of July please get in contact with me! I can easily transfer the tickets on ticketmaster too!!
All love from Ireland :))

Hi, I have been skating on Suregrip Fames with Avanti Aluminium plates but I recently got a pair of VNLA Luna skates and my trucks are making a clicking sound when I lean. The click is more noticeable on the left skate. I can also feel a slight pop in my boot when it happens.
Are my trucks possibly too loose? I switched out the stock cushions to the 80a gorilla cushions and loosened my trucks out of the box. While at the rink I noticed my maneuverability was very much lacking so I loosened the trucks 1/4 turn and that's when the clicking started. I didn't hear it while skating but I can hear it whenever I move my foot from side to side. I was at the rink and the music was loud so I may have just not been able to hear it while skating.
Please excuse the odd location of the video. I had family over and had to find a quiet corner to take the video. The Skates may look a bit odd because I just threw them on and tucked the laces into the top without fully lacing them. I kept accidently lifting my wheels on my right foot while trying to exaggerate the motion causing clicking.
I've scoured the internet for answers and the only thing I've found was one YouTube review of a different Vnla skate but same plate where the guy mentions Vnla is using new cushions that fix the geometry and stops the clicking. Since I am using the version 2 cushions this really wasn't that helpful other than letting me know this might be a known issue with Gorilla plates.
Can anyone help me identify the cause and let me know if this is just an annoyance or if I should be concerned?
https://imgur.com/a/lqURdK3
If it helps, these trucks don't have adjustable pivots and I made sure the cushions and pivots were fully seated when I reassembled the trucks.

Looking for the perfect destination for your next family vacations upstate Ny? Look no further than The Country Place Resort, nestled in the picturesque landscapes of Upstate NY. Our family-friendly resort offers a range of exciting activities and amenities that guarantee a memorable experience for the whole family. Enjoy thrilling water park adventures, relax by the poolside, or embark on outdoor excursions exploring the beauty of nature. Our spacious accommodations are designed with families in mind, providing comfort and convenience during your stay. With a variety of dining options and entertainment facilities, there's something for everyone at The Country Place Resort. Create lifelong memories and bond with your loved ones in the serene and welcoming atmosphere of Upstate NY. Choose The Country Place for your family vacation and let the adventures begin!

Hi guys. So I met this guy online when I was 15 and he was 16. He’s from Portugal and I’m from Asia. We are never-mets and we hit it off pretty well. We didn’t really label the relationship because we were both afraid of the long distance and we were technically just kids. We were great friends but didn’t really entertain other people.
Anyways, it was good for almost 2 years until we were constantly fighting about meeting each other. He had a job and would be able to travel. Meanwhile, as someone from an Asian+Catholic household, my parents were very strict and I was basically sheltered. They didn’t approve of him as well. I promised we’d set up a meeting once I finished college and financially stable to travel outside of the country, but he said that would be too long for him to wait. We drifted apart and ended things after a very heated argument. He was 18 at the time and I was 17. He sent me an apology a few weeks after that fight but I didn’t read it until 7 years later because I changed my Facebook account. I only logged back in to download a few family photos.
Now I am 24 and he’s 25. We’ve recently reconnected. I read his message and all the yearly birthday greetings after that. I replied and apologized for the very late reply. He is single and so am I. He has told me he is suffering from a genetic illness that is incurable and would hate it if he died without seeing me. I teared up because I’m graduating this year and I’m now planning to meet him in Singapore in the near future.
I am so scared of being with a man again after my last breakup. But I also remember loving this man back when I was 15 and how blissful it was. We planned on a whole life together and the only problem was distance. I can’t shake off the anxiety right now. Should I give this another shot? Should we?

Sorry if this sounds kind of silly. But yeah. I just graduated college and want a house relatively soon.
My family is very doom and gloom about the housing market and the prices. But I want the American Dream. How do I go about finding a house in today's economy without screwing myself?

3M Hearing Loss, also known as 3M's Military Service division, is a specialized company that focuses on providing solutions to individuals who have experienced hearing loss or other injuries as a result of their military service. The company's primary mission is to help military veterans and their families access the resources they need to receive high-quality hearing healthcare and compensate for hearing injuries.
3M Hearing Loss offers a range of hearing healthcare services, including audiology exams, hearing aid services, and hearing protection. The company's audiologists are highly skilled professionals who specialize in working with individuals who have hearing loss as a result of their military service. They provide comprehensive hearing assessments, testing, and counseling to help determine the best course of action for individuals' hearing care needs.
In addition to audiology services, 3M Hearing Loss also provides expert advice and support for veterans who are navigating the process of receiving compensation for their hearing injuries. The company's experienced workforce are knowledgeable about the various benefits and services offered by the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs (VA) and can help individuals understand the eligibility criteria for compensation and the steps necessary to file a claim.
3M Hearing Loss is a highly respected and well-established company that is dedicated to helping military veterans and their families access the resources they need to receive competent hearing healthcare and receive compensation for hearing injuries. The company's commitment to providing exceptional customer service and helping individuals navigate the sometimes complex process of receiving hearing healthcare and compensation for hearing injuries makes it a trusted and valuable resource for those who have experienced hearing loss or other injuries as a result of their military service.
https://www.oav4trk.com/KCFGJB7/2TP63BD/

I severely fucked up my freshman year in college. When finishing my bachelors, even if I made 4.0 for the remainder of my time, it would only bring my GPA to about 3.3-3.4 which is obviously not going to get me any MD acceptances. My freshman grades were a result of things outside of my control, which I address in my essay/PS, but at the end of the day, it comes down to me being ignorant and not dropping the classes properly to avoid GPA impact.
That being said, I’ve seen some posts and comments about schools that only look at the last 60 or so credits/GPA; Are these MD and can anyone name a few (preferably in the south or east coast, but willing to relocate)?
Also, will schools consider applicants with a good sGPA (3.6-3.8) but a 3.2-3.4 cGPA?
I post a too much on here so thank y’all for your advice and information. My family is indigent and most didn’t even finish middle school, so I’m on my own here!

I feel like everytime I complain about something my bf doesn't get that I DON'T WANT ADVICES, I already have a plan to get out of every sticky situation but I just want to talk. I feel like he thinks I'm stupid or just a bitch for how much I complain but I just want to talk. I hate how every person in my life doesn't care if I just want to talk, they always want to feel like the hero, but guess what? I don't want your help. (I already told both my bf and my family that I don't want any advice but they just continue giving them to me)

​
Hi everyone! This is a complete English translation of the Aniara sequel book by Harry Martinson called Doriderna that was put together after the author died. This translation was put together using various translation programs that can be found online, so I can't guarantee that it is a perfect translation, but it's better than nothing. I will also post the original in Swedish so you can improve the translation or look up words etc. if you want. Hope you enjoy!
I would also like to let everyone know that I am also working on my own Aniara fan fiction short story that I call "The Lost Voices of Aniara". This story tells about the events aboard the Aniara from the view point of another passenger and attempts to add more details to the story. It should be ready in the next week or two.
​
HARRY MARTINSON
The Dorides (Doriderna)
Remaining poems and prose pieces in selection and with preface by Tord Hall Albert Bonniers Förlag
​
PREFACE
For reasons I will not go into here, Harry Martinson did not publish any new work in the last years of his life. There is therefore a very large literary legacy, the publication of which began in the fall of 1978 with "Längs ekots stigar" (Along the paths of the echo), published by Georg Svensson. This collection contains only a few purely scientific poems - the emphasis is on nature poetry. The selection was made from unpublished material - which had nevertheless reached the proof stage - in three previous collections.
It remains to address other lines of thought in Harry Martinson's work: the ideas in Aniara, which in various forms occupied his imagination until the end. To follow the continuation of this great theme - at least in part - is what I am trying to do in this second selection from the surviving archive.
​
The 103 songs in Aniara were part of a larger set of poems, and the author then worked for several years on a sequel, to be called 'The Dorids', the people of the tribe of Doris. Around 1959 there were about 80 songs - most of them in more or less completed drafts. The dominant figure in the Dorids would not be Isagel or the Mimarobe, but Nobia, the Samaritan from the tundra planet and deportation site of Mars. Nobia would be a norna (fate goddess), though not a cruel goddess of fate, but a norna who weaves goodness into the fabric of the world.
But the whole project remained a large-scale endeavor. The reasons were many: illness, world events, which seemed to be moving towards a fulfillment of the prophecies in Aniara, and which gave him an increasingly dark view of life: he told me that "Aniara has become a neurosis" ... I feel like Mima being blown apart'. But the decisive reason was surely his demand for absolute freedom in his creativity. He did not want to be confined, and the result was, as he himself said, 'I have stepped out of Aniara'.
The fact that Harry Martinson stepped out of Aniara, and thus also out of the Dorides, does not at all mean that he left the motifs or ideas found there, which cover the scientific field from atoms to stars. Rather, it means that he was able to write without direct connection to the characters of Aniara and the Dorides in particular.
I have therefore considered it justified to call this entire collection the Dorides, even though the prose pieces and several poems do not have a clearly visible connection with such a title.
In order to comment briefly on the selection, I would like to say a few words about Harry Martinson's attitude towards modern science (it is my intention to return to this subject in more detail).
There are two main lines. One is deterministic, and has its roots in classical physics, founded by Newton, which dominated until the end of the 19th century. It has a philosophical form in the law of causation, which means that if you know enough facts about a certain course of events in the present and in the past, you can precisely specify the course of events in the future. Examples of such events in the 'big world' - the macrocosm - are solar and lunar eclipses.
But in the world of atoms - the microcosm - this determinism does not apply. Heisenberg demonstrated this through his uncertainty relation, also known as the indeterminacy principle. In the atoms, individual events are indeterminate, we cannot discern any causality - there is randomness. But chance can be mastered by the methods of statistics, and we must content ourselves with a "statistical causality", which describes the course of events in the atom with the highest possible degree of probability.
It is this second, indeterministic line that has long been followed by most physicists. But there is one major exception, and that is Einstein. At the 1927 meeting of physicists in Brussels, for example, he asked Bohr, Heisenberg and others with mild irony whether they really believed that God plays dice - "ob der liebe Gott würfelt". Einstein was convinced that the universe follows an ordering principle, a geometric structure, which can be called a world soul. This is a pantheistic view that is reminiscent of Spinoza.
Similar ideas are already present in Aniara, but in this selection the picture has become more sharply defined. Harry Martinson does not believe that chance plays a decisive role in the course of the world, as is clear from several poems and prose pieces. He believes more in Einstein than in dozens of other Nobel Prize winners. Apart from these authorities, he follows his intuition.
His approach to religion has often been quoted: he chooses the Riddler over the God. This belief is reflected in 'The Riddle'. In 'Poems on Light and Darkness', published in 1971, Harry Martinson, with 'The Inner Light' and 'The Bird in the Phoenix Bell', presents the events inside the atom itself. These poems show that - although 'Aniara' and 'The Dorides' are more about stars than atoms - he never lost his interest in the microcosm. In this selection, it is the atoms that are more interesting than the stars.
The bard enters the atom. He describes the course of events in a world which is completely beyond our senses and which, despite the enormous aids of science, we will probably never be able to understand exactly. The story itself probably comes from Gamow's book "Mr. Tompkins Explores the Atom". Published in Swedish translation in 1946, it is, along with "Mr. Tompkins in Wonderland" (also 1946), the versatile Gamow's best popular science books. Harry Martinson rated them highly.
The two poems 'Submerged as in a dream but still awake' and 'Actually, the comprehensibility was slight' depict a journey of thought into the atom, and the same motif recurs in several other places.
The poem "A Cosmic Thickness Lying Boundlessly Spread" poetically depicts a world development related to the hypothesis of the "stationary universe" put forward by Hoyle and others, and to Klein-Alfvén's "symmetrical cosmology". For several reasons - mainly aesthetic - Harry Martinson did not like the theory of 'the big bang', which was celebrated by most scientists. His poem should have been written quite a long time ago, and perhaps he would have changed his mind if he had been given the opportunity to understand what the "cosmic background radiation" - with a temperature of about 3 degrees above absolute zero - means for the credibility of "The big bang". It took natural scientists some time to become convinced that this radiation can best be interpreted as a fading glow after an unimaginable cosmic explosion some 18 billion years ago.
This selection also contains several pieces of prose, which in general do not need any comment. But I would like to mention a few. For "The Figuration Patterns of the Goddancer's Juggling Program", in three sections, there is a drawing by Harry Martinson, reproduced on the cover of this collection. The spread comes from Hindu philosophy: we see 'Siwa's juggling dance before Brama'. The dominant curves are so-called lemniscates, which were already known to the ancient Greeks. The lemniscate looks like an eight and is the mathematical symbol for infinity. It is defined as the trajectory of a point under the condition that the product of its distances to two given points is constant. In the center of the drawing there are several small curves. They are ellipses, and an ellipse - also first studied by the Greeks - is defined as the trajectory of a point under the condition that the sum of its distances to two given points is constant. The result is a geometric pattern, similar to a flower, which at the same time provides a poetic image of the complex interplay of forces in the atom with outward and inward energy impulses The juggler finds it increasingly difficult to work with his ball-particles as he progresses through the periodic table of the elements. In the end, he "dances the spectral theme in the dance of the Phoenix" - a symbol of the indestructibility of both energy and poetry, and a recurring motif in Martinson's poetry.
"Delsaga om tidens ariadnetråd" (Part of the saga of the Ariadne thread of time) is almost a fantasy about four-dimensional space, where you have to be careful not to get on the wrong track. The selection of prose pieces ends with "Some fairies dancing in the summer night near a quiet lake". It is a cheerful tale where the author combines a love of the Swedish summer with a love of light.
​
I made this selection at the direct request of Harry. He even said several times that I should have all his scientific poems and prose pieces. But I think I judged this offer correctly when I saw it as an expression of his great generosity towards his friends. I always replied that he himself should complete and select what was to be published. But in his last years he did not want to publish anything. I therefore promised to make a selection if he did not change his mind.
​
He did not, and this collection is the result.
Finally, I would like to thank Ingrid Martinson and Georg Svensson for the understanding and assistance they have given me in bringing this selection to fruition.
​
Tord Hall
​
​
The Dorides (Doriderna)
The book you hold was written in Mima's hall.
Now, on a secret wavelength, it is sent home to you, my friend, who for some years inhabits a spherical beach called the Valley of Doris.
In other words, it was written so close to your own being that nothing could be closer to you than those described here. You are one of them.
​
Over the graves, the indifferent wind spreads
the whisper of the immortal gods
that no loss is foreseen in the grand scheme of things.
But what do the gods - those wasteful billionaires of the heavens - know about the beautiful and wonderful Doris?
how she was worth saving forever
and that whoever loved her
can never be comforted by the gods' continued waste.
About her a bird sings now alone in the tree of the grave. Of her as she was, the glorious one, if no other, the Dorides' thrush sings.
​
The window was full of stars,
The Leonids' swarm of stars came, then you know the time.
Autumn was gone, its yellowing burnt.
The lookout tower, closed on the wooded mountains.
I stood as a child of a time that saw the stars detach from the roofs towards a room where novas frightened a more distant valley, I found other myths than those I was used to picking hurled at me from the space of the Leonids.
I stood in the cathedral of fear of dreams.
The great copper woman who lay there with her back soldered to the lid of the sarcophagus drove horror into me, cast my foot with lead.
That the copper woman knew who I was, I immediately sensed as a deadly weight, and that I had been summoned here by herself, by the queen of copper, of that I was certain.
In empty benches sat forgotten years, from the emptiness of the auditorium the organ pipes shone like stalactites in the vault of a cave and there was nothing, no light, no hint that gathered my crumbling courage.
For everything was fulfilled as it was written in stone once when the water abandoned the green and it was said that man will go away and become the dead slave of the dead dust.
And as I stood there gripped, filled with horror
for this judgment and epitaph
which was predetermined and rehearsed
in the mute trumpet of the seraphim of the stones,
bells fell suddenly from the towers to the earth that rocked with an ore-broken thunder, and the copper woman rose, a scream of remembrance drawn from afar to her lips as she drew me in close to her copper body in terrified death.
He woke up. There was light. It was day.
And the Samaritan Nobia sat silent, but still heard the echo of the screams his dreams had squeezed out of his fear.
She searched for words simple enough for a stranger to grasp, but not so simple as to drive away his trust, hardly won yet.
In simple action she finally found them.
And she stood up and smiled with milk
From the moors of Gondrin to the mouth of this fugitive.
​
​
It is no exaggeration to say that space gave us long winter evenings rolled into one - the one that lasts. Our leisure time finally became a grim question with ice in our eyes and a frozen flame.
It became necessary to tell stories from reality - as it can be taken. I chose to tell about King Basii, who, supported by Chefone, forcibly turned himself into a god and magician in a celestial drama.
The Goldonder King felt like God and determined to live up to the gods he built himself a city in the sky.
It was a global world city of goldonders assembled into a kind of hive heaven.
But Basil's space-city, though it contained twelve million men in his service, was not enough for him; he had another built, and the greatest city in the world was soon in space. That city was a marvel to behold: a mighty golden dome, surrounded by three bionomically serving drabants, one of which was called the Vegetable City, one the Fish Drabant, and the third the Sting.
​
The names reveal their role and purpose.
So Basii sits in his heavenly land. The aquarium dragon orbits faithfully and Stings follows it with fattened animals and the vegetable moon amounts to the redwood.
The golden dome was the city of retreat for all climbers and celestial rebels, for gamma was a poison to all alike and all poor and rich alike had to choose between death and escape.
So many preferred the city of Basil.
But although he rules over twelve million
inhabitants of the great city of space, he is still very rarely happy.
And although the dragons in a faithful circle
raise animals and grow fish and wheat
Basil's only pleasure is when he gets
with Vulvis, the royal slave, to bathe in Lethe.
But all the deliciously good virginity
that can be enjoyed in Basil's harem
is in its nakedness a skin of fear.
of frightened dissimulation. And his love story
...is but a tale to be seen from the outside..,
and all his lust a forced voluptuousness.
​
Thus in The Night of Aniara I draw a little picture that everyone can understand from the rich treasure of reality.
And every time I make an arabesque in the hall of Mima about this space grotesque that Basil's space city can probably be said to be, I can for an hour or so make people sigh: the best is here anyway.
From Basil's false heaven we preserve. No, I'd rather travel with Aniara.
But soon the alarm goes off. The bells proclaim that the images of the fairy tale are overtaken by visions here that distress ignites.
And quickly to the halls I return.
​
The Goldonder's garden bubbled with glamour. A party was being held there and Chefone was there. He showed us a picture of the smith of happiness: the goldonder king Basii, a portrait jubilantly taken on the day the fifteen thousandth goldonder lay in the field ready for the wave of endlessness.
Then we were each seized by thoughtfulness and went to our own in solitude.
For in every ship of this number there was a Mima locked up in its cage.
The Rapid criminal was much loved and could operate as he pleased under the protection of the admiration he aroused. He always appeared at great speeds and abducted women whom he brought to Chefone in light blue rapid rockets.
Of course it was criminal, the people of the valley thought, but the charm was so close to the deed that the rampart was breached by sheer admiration and open worship soon followed the advice of restraint at the murder pedal.
​
Tucked away in a corner of our gondola, I pretend to smile at some rough fellows who spend their evenings with mockery and violence, with a devilish flutter as their sole aim.
They look at me and find me mortified,
- The clear approval is what they expect...
and I'm close to being squeezed badly
every time they jokingly glance at my grave door.
The brute is approaching, his dull face with many a foolish whim weighing on his mind.
And many a scowl missed by pigs from the worst corners of the soul he throws at me.
And when, full of fear, I strike with depleted strength in the dull face, the troll is only amused by my blow and raises his eyebrow with interest.
Then I flee between the troll's legs and out the other side of the danger of death.
How this happened can only be fully explained by the light of the gopher and the fourth tensor theory.
​
Here came the sober, composed and sober man who always kept his soul in trim and stuck to the dry, honest maxims of life.
Now he went into the fire with his imagination.
His cool reason was completely burned His sober composure was fried in seconds when the photo turbo in Xinombra exaggerated the cold matter.
And yet I can't help but admire the man as he made his way to the office where he had been employed for many years
and where, despite offers to flee to the tundra, he provided punch cards for thousands who broke up every day.
There died a man who never raised his voice, who always remained true to his calm tone, the martyr of calm composure who was burned when the cruel fires of excess were lit.
​
One is often chilled to the rock crystal by everything one hears before the ear falls like gray-white ash into the cremation hall.
And the girl from Rind who sees nothing is often heard to ask beyond the eye: how is the world of such torment visible? What is to be seen in this madness, where eeriness against eeriness is heard to answer?
Cultivating insight seemed futile
and many fell away from the faithful crowd.
and its program which was to see through
so that with the transparency of evil
as lens and instrument
try to find new signs
and new ways for the land of Gond.
Most people grew tired and withdrew from the room of the Truth Service, and Nobia sat for long periods almost alone, trying to hold on to her looms, always tormented
by the blood moisture of evil memories, the echoes of horror
surrounded her days
and made the Mara a bedfellow
who tore the fabric of the noman
and raped Nobia's dream
and the mood of life over the moors of Gondria.
It is as important to us to have friends
in the houses of distant worlds as at home by
the familiar road of the green earth.
You are reflected in endless eyes, watched by immense spectators.
They never interfere, but they watch the sewing and the mining,
the nurse and doctor on the rounds and the weapons in the shamelessly cruel wars.
Your own position under their eyes may be likened to the position you take with one whom you do not wish to grieve, but to share joy and to please.
So spoke the old astronomer, and then laid his head down to rest.
And he went smiling to the eternity that had been waiting by his side all his life.
His forehead shone with its ideas, even in the dead of death in the years of space.
He was among those who know the fairies of everything, those who get to comb Berenice's hair.
​
But for the longest time I still want to believe that this is the torment of an evil dream and the ship Aniara a phantom from which I will wake up in the Valley of Doris.
Perhaps everything is a nightmare and I want to wait with poison and a knife. They say there are dreams of a kind that seem as long as a man's life.
Out of the dust you were born, from its gifts you were supported.
You did not manage the gift, many a meadow you made desolate.
What is beyond this sea is called Going down deep among riddles too great to be found in a grave.
Faith can never cover more than what you see in spirit.
​
All the other things are too much to bear.
Do you hear the sound of the rescue team calling from an emergency station that is one of a thousand others, regardless of faith?
Now guess where the road leads and what Paradise is.
One of a thousand rescue stations scattered along the coast here.
Now I want to sing to my ear and ask it to listen to a voice that descends not to destroy the language I have collected for comfort. For the comfort of life and death, I whisper the price of sensitivity every time the sinful flow of language storms the breeze of the spirit.
​
One night Heba lay awake in the city of Aniara and heard the painter's joyful painting.
The skilled varnisher was varnishing the years that would one day end on a stainless steel stretcher.
And suddenly from Heba there was a shout against the smooth roof.
The skilled varnishers know their business well.
Too hard to become joy, too happy to become sorrow. The painters paint everything in Aniara's castle.
​
We know that we have been left out of the higher insight of the ocean of mystery and that we lack the tools to reach the depths of clarity that Mima once gave. But since Mima's death, the average of what we achieve of truth is not very high average is what is required if the choice of new paths is to be avoided.
A small number reach the values that should be the average to reach.
The others are satisfied with the flow of thought,
the rattle with which time is made to pass.
A daughter of my mother, called Tovi, was born in the night of space. Alas, dear ones, where can the crowd's demand for sensation and wonder lead us?
First came, as it should be, the blissfully sweet and indescribably pure birth, when the mimicry lay naked, uncovered and panting in the golden bed of the formula.
To her camp now came the mimicry and winged it
the naked one, as when the butterfly flies the honey chalice of its flower, in Dori's meadows. The description is not given (much to my regret) because there is always the possibility of a wave of miracles taking place in secret, to the great disappointment of many who wish to see how the mimagyne makes love, and from what angle the picture of the goddess's love life should be taken in order to really reach the audience.
Can it not be enough that Tovi gave birth to an allegorical child whom Isagel happily suckled at her breast and practiced miracles and consolation You may think so yourself, but others think otherwise.
For not even a mimagyn can defend the fruit of her womb against the human hyena who demands a clear answer on every point of what precedes it all: the prelude to sowing,
with the insides of the thighs well described in a clear image that gives the "public" a feeling that it was in the bed.
​
Yes, it has happened that I have sometimes asked myself (in private silence, of course) whether the smooth ice of superficiality does not have enough joy, and that the great swallows in these spaces are only terrible wakes which, compared to the agile princess and heartlessly threatening with superior power, will in the end become the cold room of beauty.
So small a strip bears, the other breaks, and all the incomparably large gapes with the same dark death which, unchanging with cold upon cold, only imitates itself.
To raise one's hand then with a light-year pound and demonstrate the fugue of eternity on terrible organs, while the girl in the icy distance dances, hardly greater to see than a fly flown away towards the light, it is to chill with the great weapon as when the superpower with the powers the element hides coldly makes its rows in the land of Gond against unsuspecting cities and, although itself dismissing all talk of sin punishment and trial, nevertheless treats the human with such terrible flame that this terrible torrent of loose gamma released by those who do not mean sin punishment nevertheless cruelly destroys both Yaal and Gena and melts down to ashes the wonder Heba
With the same fire they turned on Chebeba.
​
Posterity does not understand you so easily.
It judges according to the image of posterity
and counts up the time you lived in
as rows of negligence, as offenses
against the spirit of foresight, the duties of thought.
To this it adds the work of suffering
and piles up, as blind as a judge
as you were blind as a criminal, case by case.
Can those who have killed the foundations of joy and destroyed the great city of joy have the right to the joys of life?
Does Cain have the right to be happy?
Can those who strangled the joys of Xinombra and burned the valley of paradise have the right to heights of heaven other than Aniara's daily agony?
I ask but never get an answer. I have to arrange for pastimes
for the hordes of Aniara and manage its entertainment.
​
A wave of newly awakened hatred swept through the mountains where Nobia lived in deep mines and ghostly white lights illuminated every thread of life in the fabrics she wove.
She had sought and found the thread of life - a discovery of how healing rays are empowered by the inner council of things and fused with the heart of the atom.
And while hatred swelled around the mountains
and wounds screamed in the valley of time.
she wove day and night until the color of victory
and the skin of life rose in the hall of death.
Of her beauty little can be said. It was lost in a wave of radiation but the clear purity of the soul could be weighed; in healed wounds we saw her reflection.
​
Then I will throw you out of your chair. I will break your armchair view, because it is false and holds a convulsive security in a time that has slipped out of its rooms, but also the other way around: that it becomes a view without deep insight.
From this world, I shall send you happiness today to the kingdom of love, to the evil shore where the Samaritan Nobia and others spread works of love from country to country.
Figuring out the ways of evil and tracking down all the poison in the city of hate was futile, for hate stood there with heavy blocks united row by row.
Within its walls there was life and movement in the birthing centers and squares where human beings were conceived and human beings were born and human life in the human gap was destroyed. It was best to pretend that this city of self-righteous evil existed as nothing more than a devilish childhood that would mature, grow tired of itself.
We resolved to keep on sending saints there for the longest time.
from the saints' camps as long as the funds lasted
and as far as the need still aroused the heart.
This plan was tried for nine years, during which the Rind camp of saints bled to death: an act of self-sacrifice based on faith in the powers of good. But the heavy wall of hate stood just as hard, and the fatigue of leadership followed the act of hate; only too great was the throne of victory we had.
A single city consumed the power which we had thought sufficient for the transformation of the world.
​
On a rare occasion, the happiness of being free from desire also came.
Then the emptiness suddenly became populated by a kind of spiritualized mystery.
We walked the spirit's path of happiness along the beach, exchanging thoughts, making fortune cards.
It was evening and sunset in the sea.
Night fell, but the land of thought stood firm.
He woke up. She said: guess where.
I can't, he said. How did you get here? The same way you did: up the gravel path and then straight to the left among the cypresses. There was a dewy path the moonlight itself went there with light steps which I tried to imitate.
And when everything was past and the path was over
I managed to become a clear crystal and find you, my friend, on this path.
It is so transparently wonderful here.
We no longer exist. All that was is over.
Neither god nor devil here reaches us anymore and the end is the cruel parody of life.
​
Where is the plain text?
This is what I'm looking for.
The one that fits but still gives song.
After thanking God that he was a wasp and not something else, he continued between the leafy branches and stung the farmer.
Laid out by spiritual mobs, the truth becomes worse than the lie. When the mob washes the barley, it is never clean.
The rabble always wash in the dunghill from the Augean stables.
​
​
Matema's camel bells ring in the deserts of speech where the caravans of unfinished quarrels
never reach their oasis, only become more camels.
Immersed as in a dream but still awake, I found myself changed and so naked that no dream has words for what it was like when, transformed by the stone, I cut down towards the inner realms and while this was happening I became smaller, smaller and even more stripped of layers and layers of time and space as I sank further and further into the stone, deeper and deeper into things.
Who undressed me, wore me down so much that no conceivable smallness so small on this earth can be imagined unless one is long since beyond what every comprehensible thought wants to deny.
And yet I was being stripped and reduced still further in no direction.
So sunk, unceasingly sunk in
towards even more breathtaking reduction
I retained in my dream a way of seeing
and understand that I was traveling into
to the dimensions, the innermost
who with their interior work with their interior
and whose interiors compose the world.
They scare children with darkness, criminals with punishment and sinners with realms beyond death where the vengeful desire to torment has transported its arsenal of tormenting images.
But sorrow follows us every day, and joy follows us every day.
We ourselves are the sorrow, we are also the joy, everything human is rooted in humanity, and no human being can escape humanity, not her hatred and her self-degradation, nor the joy she spreads, nor the love she forms.
There is a third land that is not death and not life, but the reality that pervades all realities, and spins the very thread of the fabric from which dreams are woven. Yes, I had come to the rooms where these threads are spun. When I arrived, I stepped out and saw no longer surprised the smallest fairy, who herself was not at all surprised to welcome me to her inner land.
And although we were both unimaginably smaller than two grains of traveling dust on a suit on earth, we thought we were big here in this smallest room to which I have now come and which nevertheless encloses with its vault a separate world of realities formed.
On the contrary, I cannot describe what I saw of strange things, but that will follow when the habit of telling stories has been practiced for other habits than what life offers,
and other things than those called death.
For though beyond all I have known
this was not death
and though within all I have known
this was not life.
​
Actually, the comprehensibility was slight, as when multiples arranged in layers, and layered in the directions of space, make the fabric of the dream omnidirectional structural and become a fabric consisting of paths where the thread is only thought of as a path as a sign that here the shuttle has gone, but where is the thread? The thread is the path. I saw how the gnome was in a quandary as to which of two different possibilities to give clarity.
Then came formulas of such an elusive nature that the gnome was again gripped by the anxiety
which arises when the explanation is attempted but little response is felt by the pupil.
And with a look that shone as if with sorrow, he signaled a break in the dilemma. And with a formula more magical than comprehensible, we left the atom.
We expanded to other contexts and sat on a leaf next to a bee eagerly searching for honey in a meadow.
​
The Dance
Around the great star of the day we shall orbit the years we have been given to live, and our family for a few thousand centuries, perhaps more, perhaps less, no one knows.
But the time that we are orbiting is so small compared to that of the suns where they wander around in orbits in the galaxy our family named the Milky Way, luminous to behold.
What can our eyes see, our hearts cry out at the thought of atoms going around in the same way with waves and particles.
Some have called this the dance of the gods - it is always being danced by everything in the universe.
All indications are that among the arts of the muses
the art of dance is the first and the last,
and we are in it, dancing out
our role in the dance, it is already being danced
in other worlds separate from our time,
in other dance theaters,
yet one thing is clear
that we are dancing our turns.
Our role in it
is ours and no one else's.
Our own role in the dance art of all worlds.
​
Economic overview
Our earth wanders alive alone, around the sun our dear parent.
As far as the giant tubes reach no living neighbor to see.
Desolate and empty on the one who received the name of the god of war, burning hot and desolate on the one who received the name of the goddess of love.
Jupiter, planet of Zeus
ice-clad to two hundred times the height of the Himalayas.
The others are death's door.
Beyond that, light years to the next planetary village.
So each sun has only one living person, and that one is a leased farm, indefinitely and to an unreliable and dangerous race.
​
Here is a world of light distributed in the mystery of things.
Here is the salvaged light in the innumerable rooms of the stone.
Wands point with poles directed to their rooms inside mountains and stones, spinning mystery.
Deep in her fairy tale, she lives for the sake of the tale.
the norn who has learned to spin the yarn from the wool of the riddles.
​
The spirit of Ideema from space in endless lines gathered the seeds into the durable wood of the suns.
From far beyond time the hydrogen came in modest garb and built for its God the ingenious nests of the atoms.
Come, let us nurture the foundation of our life. The green sphere we have been given to live on in the universe's lottery system.
When the next lucky draw can get rid of the Milky Way's big tombola we do not know and can never reach.
But we do know one thing for sure: the next draw will not include us.
​
A stranger called chance shuffles the cards and deals them to the local players.
Every single poker face keeps a straight face.
There are plenty of goldfish in the tureen here.
According to the law, the silent coincidence itself is the last to raise its hand, with ice in its stomach.
Soon jaws of granite are chewing the cigar.
Where is the bundle of happiness among the starlings?
That question is answered when chance wins.
Then the shot goes off, chance's life disappears. His house of cards collapses, but soon everyone at the counter thinks it was a nice fish, that no one won, that chance herself was told by Smith and Wesson what chance was.
by Smith and Wesson what chance should do.
( translation to be continued )

My boyfriend's family, they're old money. They were going to this ski trip, my bf asked me to go with them, I told him I couldn't afford it right now since I'm unemployed and basically pretty much broke. And now he told me his mom already bought my ticket so I don't really have to worry about it.
The thing is, I do worry. I'm incredibly grateful to them, they are the nicest people I have ever met. And I thank them SO MUCH for this. But I can't afford it, I don't want to go to this incredibly expensive place, where I know everyone will pressure me to take expensive ski classes and that kind of stuff when I can't even afford a happy meal there probably lol. And I'd hate to make my boyfriend pay for my shit, that's not fair. I'm a 27 year old who can't pay for her own stuff, that's SAD.
I can't even say that I won't go anymore because the ticket is already THERE and it'd be incredibly rude and ungrateful of me to say no.
I swear, I'm just as broke as this girl from the MAID netflix series lol fml now I will probably have to do some kind of magic to make money appear for this trip. It is so embarrasing.

So I’m in my 30s and mom is mid 60s. She’s trying to retire (and I think she can) however she is financially illiterate, and I simply don’t know much about the retirement part of life. For me, it’s just saving in my 401k for the far future.
Anyway, here are her generalized details: - owns house - owns car - no debt - lives in medium cost of living area, but is generally frugal - owns vacation rental that profits $6k/month after expenses - has 1.4m in cash she wants to invest. I convinced her to put it in a low risk bogglehead-ish set of funds in September 2021 (terrible timing) and after it lost 20% she panicked and pulled out half of it. She’s quite libertarian when it comes to trusting institutions and while the half she left in the markets is coming back and spitting out dividends I don’t think I could convince her to try again, and I don’t want to be responsible if she perceives things to go sideways again. We have a good relationship.
So the question: what should she do with the rest?

• we live 5 hours away and are having kids and she wants to be a part of their life. Our house is way to small to host her regularly (and frankly to have kids).
  
• she likes the tangibility and control of real estate and we are good at it. She could get another vacation rental although there’s not ouch diversification in that plan.
  
• I keep reading things about long term care and insurances and stuff for older people. I don’t know anything about that. Should we consider this?
  

-she buys health insurance it’s expensive. What can we expect here?
-I looked into an annuity but she wants to leave something for me and my sister.
-she’s already taking early reduced SS.

• she has floated a plan: buy a bigger house where we live with an ADU. We rent from her, raise a family in the house, and she can use the ADU to visit. We live in a HCOL area so this would deplete her funds. It seems like kind of a crazy idea but it seems to check all the boxes: she gets a return on investment, she can visit her family, we get a bigger house to have a family, she trusts the tenants….

Anyway, I’m looking for thoughts and feelings from people like you who think about this sort of stuff and aren’t emotionally connected to the situation. And hopefully this post and replies can help others in a similar situation.

Hey Crew!
I’m a youth soccer coach in Cleveland and I’m bringing 2 teams and various family members down to cbus on Wednesday night for the Rapids game.
I had this thought that maybe I’d buy a tray of sandwiches or pizza and we could meet in a parking lot before the game since folks are coming down in different cars. Seemed like an easy way to meet up.
Is this possible around the stadium somewhere? If not, anyone have better ideas?

I (31 year old) F have desperately been trying to find a board cert. primary care doctor for my family.
Unfortunately, it seems that there are none in the area that are actually excepting new patients, and/or it is a waiting period of up to 5+ months for a 15 minute appointment.
I am seeing that there are some nurse practitioners and PAs with more availability, but I am also hearing mixed reviews about using a mid-level provider.
Am I going about this wrong? Is there an easier way to find a doctor that has availability?

This weekend a family member is coming to visit the town we both moved to.
I'm going to ask them if they can drive me back to the city we're from when they leave. Know I have to somehow stealthily pack and I'm not sure how to take our three pets with me. He has punched one and kicked the other, and has threatened to kill them if I leave. I think I might just have to leave the cage and take my pets in their carriers with minimal things like their food/bowls/blankets.
I don't even know if my family member will say yes. Hopefully when he sees all my bruises he'll say yes. All I have is 100 dollars as well. My boyfriend takes all of my money as well as sabotaging job efforts. Then he calls me useless and worthless because I don't have a job.
Don't know where I'll stay when I go there. Maybe my family member will watch my pets while I go to a shelter or I could stay with family member. I just know I need out and that my boyfriend will never get better.
I'm terrified of what will happen when he realizes I've left. I'm terrified he'll hurt himself or try to track me down. I honestly don't even know if I can go through with it.

My ex cheated on me, I immediately blocked him from everywhere.
When I said my friends and family about it, they said I was being childish and that even if he wanted to apologise he couldn't if I had blocked him.
I know that no contact is for healing. But one part of me wants to give him the chance to apologise.
But other part of me feels that if he wanted to he somehow would?
It's not tough to make a fake account and msg me on social media or he can send me letters? He could've also attempted calling, because I would still get the notification. But he never tried.
So maybe if he wanted to he would? Or maybe he is not apologising because he thinks I have him blocked so I'm probably still mad and there is no point of trying?
Idk this may sound very stupid, but I'm at the missing part.
PS: I'm the dumper, but he cheated.

Me and my boyfriend have been dating for two months. During these two months, I have noticed that he has a tendency to raise his voice when frustrated. So far, it hasn’t been directed towards me whatsoever (until yesterday at least). For more context, he has severe ADHD and takes his prescribed adderall maybe once or twice a week versus daily. He only takes it when “he wants to focus.” I normally don’t see his angry behavior when he’s on his medication for the day, but when he isn’t, he has terrible fits of rage.
It started as him being more and more comfortable displaying his road rage over time. And I don’t mean getting annoyed and a curse word here and there, I mean yelling at the top of his lungs, flipping people off, cutting people off, tailgating, speeding, and other lowkey dangerous driving behaviors that scare me. I have mentioned how I feel about this to him, and he just brushes it aside as his “normal” behavior and doesn’t see a point in changing it. He also has a big truck, which in my opinion can be extra intimidating to the car drivers that he’s directing his angry behavior towards.
Next would be his video games. I love video games, I play my Xbox and PC daily. My family is full of huge gamers and I’ve probably been playing ever since I was a small child. He plays his Xbox and whenever his friends don’t do exactly what he wants them to, he’ll mute his mic and lose his shit. Or if he loses he’ll get pissed and throw his controller at the ground and start yelling. I understand the frustration from losing, but I have never yelled for that loud and long and slammed things because of it. It’s not just video games either, he’s kind of a sore loser. We played a couple games of beer pong and when he won the first match, he made it clear to rub it in my face. I was like, “Well, whoever wins the next match will be the beer pong god.” I won the next match and he lost his shit at me for jumping excitedly and saying that I’m the god, like we agreed, in front of his friends because it embarrassed him. He kept insisting we do “best out of 3” on the way home and tried gaslighting me, saying that we never agreed on the second match being the god match. I dropped it because he started raising his voice at me. I said we could do a third match next time, and he responded, “cool” with an attitude.
Yesterday, I was trying to set up a double date with my best friend and her boyfriend. They wanted to go to lunch, so I suggested that me and my boyfriend longboard the canyon trail before going to lunch with them. I asked my best friend if she wanted to come longboarding, she said yes, but she wanted to wait and see if her boyfriend would come. Now, my best friend’s boyfriend’s family wanted to host the lunch so I was like, okay cool. His family is super nice and it’s a Sunday, why not. My boyfriend was taking a nap so I woke him up and said that if we wanted to get to lunch on time, that we should go longboarding now (it’s like a 30 min trail). He’s rubbing his eyes while we go outside, and the bright sunny day had become cloudy and gloomy. He checked the weather app and it was supposed to rain. I was super disappointed as we walked back inside.
He took a pot pie out of the freezer and started opening the box. Confused, I asked if he didn’t want to go to lunch anymore. He said that he didn’t know what the plan was. I gently reminded him that I mentioned it when he woke up, but since he forgot, that we were going to lunch with my best friend’s boyfriend’s family. He asked which canyon we were going to (Utah has multiple). I said I don’t know because her boyfriend was lagging on telling us the full details and I was waiting to know too. He starts getting frustrated and saying well, I didn’t know what the plan is so I don’t know why you’re getting mad at me. I was still talking calm at this point, but I was sad and defeated over not longboarding. I said that I don’t know either, that I’m not mad, and that I’m telling him what I know. I said that because I don’t know, if he wants he can call my best friend’s boyfriend and ask (because I doubt he’d tell me when he’s lagging on his own gf, and because the guys are much closer friends). This infuriates him and he starts yelling and cussing and throws down the pot pie. I tell him, “Don’t yell at me.” And soon as he starts spouting off curse words I say, “Don’t cuss at me.” He storms off into the room and slams the door. I leave to go to my best friend’s.
We start a text conversation in which he says that I had an attitude when I said he should call his friend. I told him that I didn’t have an attitude at him, that I was talking with a defeated tone because I really wanted to longboard. He said this over text, “You dont see me giving you attitude when I’m depressed or something I try to make you feel better still. Cause you know something? I’m depressed/ mad/ sad all the fucking time but still give you that smile and positive attitude cause you didn’t cause any of it. But seems like that’s hard for you.” The text conversation included a lot of back and forth, but the gist of my statement was that I wasn’t trying to direct any negative emotion towards him, that I’m sorry it came across that way even though it wasn’t my intention, that I can’t instantly get over things and that my emotions are valid (he always tells me to get over things instantly and to cope like he does). One of my last messages was, “But I’m done talking about this. Never yell at me again. Or start cussing at me. You can do that around your family, but my standards are higher than that. I expect more out of my partners.” He left me on read for almost the entire day until I asked whether he was apologetic or not. His final message was, “I’m sorry for yelling.” Then he came home and pretended like nothing happened.
TL;DR: My boyfriend blew up at me because he thought my disappointment in not being able to longboard was me being upset with him. Even after explaining that I was upset at the situation and not him, he lost his shit by raising his voice at me and slammed his food down. I said a hard boundary, but he doesn’t seem genuinely apologetic. Any advice on how to move forward?

Lets call the friend S and the gf D, Me and S knew each other for 6 months, S got with her gf D 3 months ago, before their relationship I had a big crush on S and I confessed cause she was a bisexual girl at first, she didn’t have the same feelings but I’m so stubborn I told her I’ll keep trying with her and she accepted, she challenged me to make her fall in love with me and I accepted, I managed to make her fall for me but her ego was too big to let her tell me so I was in the shadows, I stopped trying cause of lots of things happened with me I didn’t have time even for my friends and family and I guess my feelings faded away thanks to life being so hard, I guess she thought I gave up and then D came to her life and she fell for D, anyway now that life is peaceful I started focusing on my friends and family, S and D their relationship was great I never got any complaints, to S I was nothing but a safe place I guess or that’s what she said, we have so much fun together it’s like we’re not even friends, we flirt A LOT, few days ago we were texting like usual, usually things get sexual for a really short time like one text we laugh an thats’s it, but this time she was different, she kept being sexual even though I kept acting dumb and trying to change the subject but nothing worked, I played along I thought she’s being funny or whatever, I got turned on cause I had a crush in the past to be honest and she’s insanely hot, after a short time we went all out, after that we acted like nothing happened and we kept texting like usual but I feel weird, I talked to her about it but she said it’s ok cause I’m a man and it doesn’t affect her and her gf.