Path: mit-eddie!wuarchive!decwrl!lll-winken!brutus.cs.uiuc.edu!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!pt.cs.cmu.edu!andrew.cmu.edu!jf2z+ From: jf2z+@andrew.cmu.edu (John Charles Fiala) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Another Entrance (Take TWO!) Message-ID: Date: 5 Feb 90 20:47:09 GMT Organization: Class of '92, Carnegie Mellon, Pittsburgh, PA Lines: 33 The door opens. A man walks in, and trips over the end of the rug, landing flat on his face. He laughs. "Well, that teaches me about being the mysterious type, don't it?" Well, I posted an entrance message a week or two ago, but that was right after a 'potential' girlfriend LJBFed me, and I was under a light gloom. But! (and here I try and toss Mike a 'bill for a diet coke) I'm feeling much better now, and the tigre's advice helped me to cheer up faster than ever before. This seems like as cool a place as the guidebook said. I just recently bought my third copy of it, in fact. I keep loaning it out to people! To the Virtual n-tet: Well, I would ask to join, but the last time I played the piano, everyone else in the family asked me to stop. And they were in the next county at the time! So, I'll just listen to you all play, and try to pick up the rules to Canasta, and giggle at the chaos. (I'm a firm believer in the humor/power of Chaos, I am.) And a toast: To those who can laugh at their own misfortune! May I join thier ranks, for they are always merry! (I left my magic money-machine card in the machine this morning... sheesh!) The short man with the long fingers sits outside of the corner and remembers finally to toss the glass in. WHOOPS! CRASH! "Wow, I hit the fireplace! Off the front door, no less!" John Fiala jf2z@andrew.cmu.edu "Have you ever marvelled that the symbol of love is also the color of blood? Just as the rose is seen from more than one eye, so does everything have more than one aspect! Tell me... do you see love or do you see only blood?" --From Captain Harlock #4 Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!spdcc!mirror!necntc!ima!haddock!karl From: karl@haddock.ima.isc.com (Karl Heuer) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Karl returns Message-ID: <15864@haddock.ima.isc.com> Date: 5 Feb 90 22:10:41 GMT References: <15732@haddock.ima.isc.com> Reply-To: karl@haddock.ima.isc.com (Karl Heuer) Organization: Interactive Systems, Cambridge, MA 02138-5302 Lines: 33 >He closes his eyes and basks in the heat of the fireplace. Some time later he wakes up with a start, and looks around to recall where he is and estimate how long he's been asleep. Hildebaby, with a big smile on his face, is standing next to a pile of singles on the bar; that and the stream of people picking up drinks eventually makes Karl realize what must have woken him up. He joins the line. {Well, that's one less concern stopping me now,} he thinks as he puts away his too-thin wallet. {It's high time I visited the fireplace, before the Valentine's Day rush.} "What can I get that's neither alcoholic nor carbonated? Apple cider sounds good. No, don't bother; I drink it cold, regardless of weather." He picks up the glass and takes a sip. "As some people have already guessed, I come from a place that's much colder than this. No, not Pluto; Minnesota. I live in Boston these days, but my blood is still laced with antifreeze." He wanders back towards the fireplace, sipping his drink as he listens to Hildebaby's story and toast. "You do *not* need to apologize for having a happy story to tell. We certainly get plenty of the other kind around here. Speaking of which..." He looks around to see if anybody is ahead of him in the fireplace queue. The floor is available... ...But he sits down again. In the cyberspace around him can be seen the electronic equivalent of several crumpled wads of paper, representing failed attempts to reduce his situation to words. {I guess it's just not time yet,} he thinks. {Maybe if I trim the history and skip right to the present, I can fit it into a comfortable size.} He leans back and listens. Minnesotans tend to be better listeners than talkers anyway. --Karl Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!ucbvax!ULKYVX.BITNET!cfcohe01 From: cfcohe01@ULKYVX.BITNET (Rose Delckum) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: notes from Santa Cruz Message-ID: <2cfcohe01@ULKYVX.bitnet> Date: 5 Feb 90 16:39:00 GMT References: <1911@scorn.sco.COM> Sender: daemon@ucbvax.BERKELEY.EDU Organization: University of Louisville Lines: 95 The door doesn't open. But a short figure enters anyway, turning around to look confusedly at the door. "Now how'd I manage that one?" she mumbles to herself. Turning around, she tries it again, only to bump her nose into the hard wood with an audible *bonk*. She removes her glasses to rub her smarting nose. "Oh well. It made for a decent entrance, I guess." She walks over to the bar, managing to trip over her own two feet a few times, and leans against the bar. "So, Mike. It's been a while. Got any more ginger beer? I knew you would." She drains her glass, as her eyes begin to water. "Whoo-ee! Been a while since I had some of that stuff" She sniffles, and picks up the glass. "Well, here goes. This time, my friends, I propose a toast to guilt." *Smash* Before I get on my soapbox, let me start out by saying that I finally found my Japanese class. And Gilly, I apologize for not answering your e-mail. I have managed to take procrastination and raise it to an art form. A reply will be sent today. Well, on to business... In article <1911@scorn.sco.COM> caroline@sco.COM (in parentheses) writes: >"Here in Santa Cruz", she says by way of explaining her toast, "it's >become a fairly common sight for people to be hanging out at grocery >stores and on streetcorners holding signs that say variations of >'Hungry, will work for food'. Today, I drove past one of these guys >at the Safeway where I usually shop, and his sign said 'Will wash >windows -- starving'. Now, it's true that I doubt he is actually >*starving*, since starvation generally takes a long time to occur. >But the thing that really bothers me about this is that the need for >a simple meal, the lack of means to even provide food for oneself, >removes a person's basic human *dignity*! It's gone way beyond the >few folks who used to be on the street asking for cigarettes and >spare change -- it's getting a little scary, don't you think?" Sitting at a table, she hugs her knees to her chest. "As y'all can tell, I'm from Louisville, KY. We have been consistently rated one of the most livable cities in the US for a couple of years now. Generally, it's a small, nice little city. Not to fast and urban, or too slow and small-towny. That's why it's such a shock to see stuff like that here. These signs are very common in Louisville. I often see people carrying signs saying "Will work for food." My boyfriend lives in an apartment, and there are a few regulars who I often see going through the garbage out back. One gets food to feed his dog. I'm scared to throw away broken glass for fear one of them will get hurt. In 1989, several children died because the power company turned off the power, and the candles they were using for light set the house on fire. My aunt and uncle have lived in a house for 40 years, and have to move out because the city has declared the area 'blighted' so as to push through an airport expansion. The government has 'offered' them $25,000 for a house that has been estimated at $45,000. And the land won't be used for the airport--it will be sold at a major profit to businesses who want to build there. At work, we've all had our hours cut, twice, but new people are being hired. Sometimes I feel like I'm living in a totally bureaucratic world, where no one in power really cares. The government isn't trying to help me. My manager isn't. No one seems to care about the people on the street. To quote Bob Seeger "I feel like a number". But, my toast was about guilt. No matter how bad I may have it, there are people working for food and rooting in dumpsters out there. I feel guilty for owning a car, for worrying about insurance payments. I feel guilty about cooking a real meal once a week, instead of eating out of cans. I feel guilty about spending $50 on an outfit for work, for spending $20 on books to read for fun. And through it all, I feel guilty for wanting more, for not being grateful for what I have! Sure, I can't afford to eat but 1 or 2 meals a day. But at least I know I have that. I sometimes scrimp on necessities, like food and to make ends meet. I spend $10 (at least) a week keeping my comic book collection up to date. So why should I want more! My car alone could probably feed someone for a year! If I feel so bad about them, why don't I do something? Because I don't have time. I work 30 hours a week (less now) and go to school full time. So I fell guilty, but don't even have time to volunteer. I guess this rambled quite a bit. But I guess it all ties together. I mean, if I can't take the time to help others, how can I expect others to take time to help me?" And so, she rises to her feet and yawns, looking around at all the faces. "Yike! It's rgwatk01, also from ulkyvx.bitnet! Help me! Please don't turn me in for being a net.illegal.alien! I didn't mean no harm! I just wanted net access! Really! Please, I'll be good. No flame wars. No calling you to help me change flat tires --:-) (smiley with a mohawk). Just don't turn me in for using my boyfriend's account! Jeez! It really is getting to be a small world hereabouts." She walks to the door, looks doubtfully at it, and decides to open it just to be on the safe side. --Rose-- Path: mit-eddie!mit-amt!snorkelwacker!usc!brutus.cs.uiuc.edu!rpi!crdgw1!sixhub!davidsen From: davidsen@sixhub.UUCP (Wm E. Davidsen Jr) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Roller Coaster from HELL! Message-ID: <451@sixhub.UUCP> Date: 30 Jan 90 03:57:59 GMT References: <358@88opensi.UUCP> Reply-To: davidsen@sixhub.UUCP (bill davidsen) Organization: *IX Public Access UNIX, Schenectady NY Lines: 61 In article <358@88opensi.UUCP> ed@88opensi.UUCP (Ed Anderson) writes: | Like alot of people, I'm alone. I started wondering... why? Some | people choose to be alone, others are orphined in one way or another. | I am niether. Without concious thought I alienate myself from others. | It all comes down to being abusive, mentally abusive. But you're here, and that's a step in the right direction. Sometimes you *need* time to just be by yourself, particularly when your personal definition of "self" is changing. It's not always when you're changing from bad things, either. Sometimes things like becoming a parent or graduating from school can be good reasons for spending some time with yourself. | I ache for other voices, the sounds of companionship... Sometimes I | turn on the TV when I'm at home, I don't watch it I just leave it on | for the sounds. Suggestion: you can find old radio shows on tape for a few bucks. They're often a good investment, because they are reminders of simple times, and better background than most TV. You have to like to get some bebefit, I guess. | Music is probably the most important thing in my life | right now but even music lacks interactive dialog. (well some music | personafies itself i.e. Peter Gabriel's "Passion"). Anyway it seems | that I have preverbally "painted myself into a corner" and the paint | isn't drying. Sure it is, you're coming here few a little time with friends. | Some of the people here at work used to ask me to lunch, you know, | a group of four or five would go to lunch and talk, laugh etc... | but I found myself saying "No-thanks, I have a ton of work to do" | or something along those lines... I think they perceived this as "No | I don't care to go to lunch with you". When you're ready you can ask them to join you. If they're friends they'll get the message that the time of first healing is over, and the time is right for the scars to fade. | Alimony to a judge is payment for services rendered throughout the | marraige... In other words, the scewing you get after the screwing | you got. I'm really sorry you feel that way. I've watched a lot of people go through divorces, while I've been safe in a stable relationship. I think since you are feeling well enough to come here it's time for you to "put on a happy face" and pick a more upbeat sig. I hereby declare the happy sig contest, you're the judge, we can all make a suggestion and you can pick something at least a LITTLE more upbeat. Entry #1: Alimony, like eternal vigilance, is the price of freedom. Will you try? At worst you can say that you hate all the suggestions and pick one for yourself. -- bill davidsen - sysop *IX BBS and Public Access UNIX davidsen@sixhub.uucp ...!uunet!crdgw1!sixhub!davidsen "Getting old is bad, but it beats the hell out of the alternative" -anon Path: mit-eddie!mit-amt!snorkelwacker!usc!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!rpi!crdgw1!sixhub!davidsen From: davidsen@sixhub.UUCP (Wm E. Davidsen Jr) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: A Little Dream Message-ID: <467@sixhub.UUCP> Date: 6 Feb 90 03:54:17 GMT References: <7810@pt.cs.cmu.edu> Reply-To: davidsen@sixhub.UUCP (bill davidsen) Organization: *IX Public Access UNIX, Schenectady NY Lines: 30 The tall man with the beard opens the door and enters, steering a large guitar case through nimbly as the door closes. He wanders toward the n-tet corner, flexing his chilled fingers, and sits on a tall piano stool which seems to have been left from his last visit. From the case comes a large 12 string guitar, with a great wide neck, impossibly thin and flat. Amazingly the guitar is in tune, and he softly beings to finger runs behind the music going on. Although he plays softly you can hear the occasional Leadbelly style bass runs embellished with little snatches of Robert Johnson rags. As the music pauses he speaks to the woman in the black coat. "I heard someone syaing that they play filk. I enjoy that, but I have never gotten interested in playing it. My songs tend to be very much concerned with the here and now, and I never did learn to play any of that sing along stuff with the simple chorus." Over on the other side of the group someone has started playing some ballad, which starts with only vocal help, due to the unfortunate placement of the capo one fret high, leaving the song in F sharp. The horn players struggle through, the dulcimer player is gritting her teeth and trying not to giggle, and the 12 string is making little bass-style runs with a somewhat awkward timbre due to being played WAY up the neck. The overall effect is very pleasant. -- bill davidsen - sysop *IX BBS and Public Access UNIX davidsen@sixhub.uucp ...!uunet!crdgw1!sixhub!davidsen "Getting old is bad, but it beats the hell out of the alternative" -anon Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!pt.cs.cmu.edu!andrew.cmu.edu!jf2z+ From: jf2z+@andrew.cmu.edu (John Charles Fiala) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: notes from Santa Cruz Message-ID: Date: 6 Feb 90 16:48:37 GMT Organization: Class of '92, Carnegie Mellon, Pittsburgh, PA Lines: 36 (look, read the last two postings about guilt/the homeless, and then read this, I'm not in a very nice mailer) I get up, walk over to the bar, and get a drink. (Diet Coke(tm)) Then I wander out into the center, and wait for some people's attention. Hello. About guilt, and the homeless. I, like you Rose, am a student. Most of my money goes to support this university, while I live at varying monetary levels. I live/work in a "nice/yuppie" section of Pittsburgh, so I tend not to see too many of the needy. But I know they're out there. But there isn't much I can do. NOW However, in another five months, I'll be on my break, and in another 2 1/2 years, I'll have graduated. Then I fully intend to settle down with a job, get my "necessaries" straight, metaphoricly roll up my sleaves, and get to work. There are always ways you can help. Is there a soup kitchen in your neighborhood? They can always use help, even if it's manual labor. That's just the first thing that came to mind. I don't know if you're Christian or not, I am, and my church is constantly trying to help. There is a group of women who constantly are helping with soup kitchens, and the like, some of whom are supporting themselves with a 9-5 job also. Not only that, but the church as a whole has begun to sponser a family, whose main sourse of light in one room is a TV, tuned to any channel, and which is living in a space that sounds about the same size as my dorm. But my family is expecting me to work, so that I am prepared for the real world, when I finally go out into it. So I help when I can, and whenever someone comes up to me, and I have the money, I'll let them have some. Anyway, just a rambling talk on how I deal with the "guilt". See you all! John Fiala jf2z@andrew.cmu.edu "Have you ever marvelled that the symbol of love is also the color of blood? Just as the rose is seen from more than one eye, so does everything have more than one aspect! Tell me... do you see love or do you see only blood?" --From Captain Harlock #4 Path: mit-eddie!mintaka!yale!cs.utexas.edu!swrinde!ucsd!sdcc6!sdbio2!secbh1 From: secbh1@sdbio2.ucsd.edu (Lori Stahlman) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: A Little Request Keywords: n-tet organization, "filk??" Message-ID: <7053@sdcc6.ucsd.edu> Date: 6 Feb 90 18:20:32 GMT References: <7810@pt.cs.cmu.edu> <467@sixhub.UUCP> Sender: news@sdcc6.ucsd.edu Reply-To: secbh1@sdbio2.ucsd.edu (Lori Stahlman) Organization: University of California, San Diego Lines: 18 Betsy Bo, who has always been particularly good at doing two or three things at once, looks up from her book. "Excuse me," she calls out politely. "I've been listening, and I've heard a new word. Will someone please explain 'filk' to me? I can guess at what type of music it is, but it's always so much nicer to be sure. "What type of music will you all play when you get it together? I think it might be productive to get a dialogue going." She goes back to her book, but a moment later she looks up again. "By the bye, I'm a frustrated musician too. Bagpipes are my bag. They're very loud, but the chanter, which is the horn part, is quite a lovely instrument. If I fit in with whatever you decide, I'll toss in my musical two cents' worth." Path: mit-eddie!bloom-beacon!shelby!apple!mips!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!mailrus!iuvax!pur-ee!pur-phy!maxwell.physics.purdue.edu!sterling From: sterling@maxwell.physics.purdue.edu (Bruce S. Woodcock) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Love Keywords: What is love? Message-ID: <3073@pur-phy> Date: 6 Feb 90 19:20:44 GMT Sender: news@pur-phy Lines: 41 The paladin gets up and adresses the room. He seems quite serious. "I am currently working on a book about life: what it is, what it involves, and how I think it should be lived. Callahans frequently adresses the topic of love, and this is the most interesting section of my book. Based on my experience as well as what SHOULD be right if there is to be justice, I have formulated the following rules/guidelines for love: 1. True Love lasts forever. 2. It is possible for more than one person to love the same person. 3. It is possible for someone to love more than one person. 4. It is possible to love someone who does not love you. I would like to hear the opinions of those at callahans on these theorems. Naturally, some people won`t like them, for some (like Ed) have been forced by society to accept that the loved someone once, but do not any more. In response to that, I would provide two explanations: 1. You still love the person, but you`re denying it. 2. You were never in love with that person as he/she TRULY IS, but rather in love with an IDEALIZED IMAGE of what you thought and/or wanted that person to be. I have felt too much pain and too much love over the years to believe that these rules could be completely wrong. In my opinion, they are very close to the truth, and they are the some of the principles by which I live my life." The pladin then gestures with his hands and a old brass trumpet appears in his hands. "Haven`t played in years," he admits, "but I`m willing to give it a try." After a brief tour of the scale, he jumps into an improvised version of "Total Eclipse of the Heart" followed by "The Lady in Red." During the show a small button appears on his chainmail shirt proclaiming "Trumpet players make better kissers." He ends his show with an upbeat song, the theme from "Buckaroo Banzai" (Boy I wish they had put together a soundtrack for that! Buckaroo`s my hero!). He then relaxes near the fire, giving his lips some much-needed rest. -Sir Bruce Sterling- Path: mit-eddie!wuarchive!brutus.cs.uiuc.edu!psuvax1!psuvm!emd101 From: EMD101@psuvm.psu.edu Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: A Great Performance! Message-ID: <90037.234244EMD101@PSUVM.BITNET> Date: 7 Feb 90 04:42:44 GMT Organization: Penn State University Lines: 87 Thud! Scrrrrshh--clunk! szhsh Scraping and clunking near the middle of the room catches your attention, combined with frenetic chattering of a whose-idea-was-this?-don't-blame-Me nature, quite enough to obliterate nearby conversations. The Virtual n-tet, with an n of about seventeen, is pushing tables out of the way to make room for empty instrument cases and musicians of questionable expertise. Short on music stands, they assign umbrellas, chair backs, horn cases, scabbards and cantrips to the duties of supporting pieces of hastily scrawled (but copyrighted) manuscript. Though the players are still jockeying for position, Oktave has jumped onto a table to make an announcement. "Yo! Hi. Welcome to the premiere performance of the Callahan's Virtual n-tet. It's wonderful to see such a turnout. Let me quickly introduce the n-tet, and then we can get started. Ow." She pauses when the Cupid pokes her in the knee with an umbrella. He says something in an undertone, and she addresses the room again. "Er -- the n-tet says that they don't want to be introduced, and they're sightreading. *Sightreading*. Well, let's go." Jumping down from the table and picking up her oboe, Oktave begins the concert with a beautiful vocal solo: "One -- Two -- Three -- HUT!" Trombone, piano and bass guitar launch into a relentless, driving, uh .. ostinato, using the term loosely. The sound is joined by bongos playing what we will call a complex, subtle counterrhythm, and then by the drones of two sets of bagpipes (?!). Three recorders in three octaves begin a whirling, dancing, uneven melody whose key doesn't seem to match the tonic that was established (for better or worse) by the bass. It sounds neat, but... Ah ha! Some vocalists step forward. "Ennnnnn... ennnnnn... ennnn..." "What?! The words are 'n,n,n'? I'm not singing this!" "Ennn... ennnnn..." A harmonica joins the vocals, and you wonder why. "Ennnn..." "Waehhhh..." "Ennnn..." "Waehhhhh...." And suddenly -- everything stops! leaving only the sound of a hammer dulcimer, weaving a surprisingly melodic pattern. A trumpet enters softly, as though not to interrupt; then asserts a countermelody of its own. (jing! says the tambourine.) An oboe joins the trumpet and they play a duet in open fifths. (cha chik! says a small drum.) The duet becomes a trio as a flute materializes .. (jing!) .. the flute fades .. (cha chik!) .. the oboe turns and wanders away .. (jing!) .. the trumpet recedes. The dulcimer continues on alone, not faltering, waiting for the piano to add support in the lower octaves.. A firm clarinet melody takes the floor, encouraged by the piano's support of the delicate dulcimer. Joined by saxophone and guitar, the tune becomes a folk dance and the dulcimer steps aside. A herd of recorders, in four different octaves, joins the song. The piano strengthens! The bagpipes return! Bass and trombone jump in and accelerate the tempo. A long, singing oboe line wells up and fades, returns and fades, crescedoes! The dance spins faster, threatening cacophony, taking the bit in its teeth-- And Ends! in a sonorous chord you might not have thought possible. Whew! The musicians are pleased in spite of themselves. They grin at the audience's applause and pack their instruments in a happy chaos. Oktave has to shout above the confusion. "Hey! That was Yue-shen at the piano! Robin on aux percussion! Betsy Bo and the One Eyed Man on bagpipes!" She jumps up on the table again. "Mark on guitar! Eric on clarinet! Hey, listen up! Steve on guitar and Peter on bass! Zach on trombone! You're not listening -- Elizabeth on French Horn! Monica on dulcimer and Bill on the rebel 'harp! Karl on aux percussion! Brandon on tenor sax! Where are you going? Dani, Taldin, Sherry, Robin on recorders! Hey! It was fun, and we'll be back!" Order is being restored to the Place. Some of the tables are pushed back where they belong, horns are packed and a well-deserved round of drinks is ordered, with cheers and toasts. The musicians settle down to chat, or perhaps head home for the night. Oktave collects her music and prepares to head out. The performance was a success. [This performance copyright 1990 by E.DiMasi (all rights reserved). This transcript may be reproduced only in its entirety, beginning with 'Thud!' and ending with this notice.] Path: mit-eddie!mintaka!yale!cs.utexas.edu!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!ucbvax!fsdcupt.csd.mot.COM!jane From: jane@fsdcupt.csd.mot.COM (Jane Beckman x4030) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Hello, hello? Message-ID: <9002070935.AA02197@fsdcupt.csd.mot.COM> Date: 7 Feb 90 17:35:08 GMT Sender: daemon@ucbvax.BERKELEY.EDU Lines: 31 There are a few hazy edges to Jilara, and a couple lightning-ripples in her image. She's been having the devil's own time with e-mail lately, and her system has logged her out of Callahans and marked all its files "expired" a couple times. She got a message out via a friend, but her own way into the place seems to have slipped into another dimension. She would like to organize a get-together, but she's rather cut off, and hoping this hologram gets through. There is a hiss of static, rather like the image of Princess Leia in Star Wars. "Hello to all of you who are at the end of my bounced mail paths" she says. "Especially Diana Egly, Sir Bruce Sterling, and Nick Chopper. Mail that once got through is bouncing in a big way. I'll keep trying, but it's hard. And I have to do *WORK* now and then, too..." Another hiss of static ripples through. "To all of you who responded to my truncated post, my thanks. Again, system problems prevented more. Maybe I just wasn't supposed to reveal quite that much of myself, here. Things are okay, I guess, if you count my questioning whether my best friend is going to stay my best friend when I review all the stunts she's pulled. All out of well-meaning meddling, but---well, I'm an adult, and I don't need a surrogate mother, thank you. And one of her comments..." She shakes her head. "She told me that female friends will stand by you, but men will never be there. I raised an eyebrow at that one, because my experience has always been exactly opposite. Men will stick with you, whether they have a relationship going or not. Women will disappear like ghosts when they acquire men in their lives. Not a universal rule, just my experience. It kind of brought home how different our world-space is. I thank you, my friends, for being there when I needed you, saying the right things, and hope to be back in more substatial form in the future!" Jilara the Exile "I have abandonned my search for the truth, and am now looking for a good fantasy." ---Ashleigh Brilliant