"Also, find your own damn quiz >D"
40 Secrets About Yourself.

Be honest no matter what.

1. Who was your last text from?
Danielle, right after the Blood Pong 2 shoot, talking about how well it went: ":-) u know i love this shit"

2. Where was your default picture taken?
At Molloy, in Wilbur. It's kinda creepy haha

3. Whats your middle name?

4. Your current relationship status?

5. Does your crush like you back?
Haha yes, I should damn well hope so :D

6. What is your current mood?
Pretty good. Work is super slow today and I'm bored, but it isn't really an antsy bored. It's a hmmmm, what can I do, OOOOOOH LIVEJOURNAL kind of bored.

7. What did you do after school yesterday?
Went right to work then right to the Blood Pong II set then right to sleep then right to the post office then right to work.

8. What color shirt are you wearing?
G is for green.

9. Who's your crush?
The person I'm dating. AKA, probably the only person who actively reads my livejournal. Hello, pancho.

10. If you could go back in time and change something, would you?
Ummmmmmm nothing. At all. I'm in a great place right now, and everything that came before this helped to get me here.

12. Ever had a near death experience?
Yup. It involved a Carvel, a dark road, a lot of rain, and a surprise hill.

13. Something you do a lot?
Write. I should do it more, though.

15. Who can you tell anything to?
Erica. My mom. Sometimes Steve.

16. Name someone who has the same birthday as you.
Antwon, one of my best friends.

17. When was the last time you cried?
A non-specific while ago.

18. What's the last thing you ate?
Chicken sandwich from Nathan's last night. I had like a four dollar off coupon haha. It wasn't really worth it because I legit waited for forty minutes in there.

19. If you could have one super power what would it be?

20. What's the first thing you notice about a guy/girl?
If they are male or female. Actually, I notice if they are human first.Usually. I was once tricked by a Cylon.

21. What do you usually order from starbucks?
On the rare occasion I go there, coffee cake.

22. What's your biggest secret?
Don't really a huge secret. Just a few things that I tell people who matter.

23. Favorite color?
Blue. Boring, I know. But all shades of blue rock. It might've started when I got my Blastoise holographic Pokemon card haha.It was beautiful to my nine-year-old eyes.

24. What song has a special meaning for you?
Man, so many.

25. Do you still watch kiddy movies or tv show?
Not really, but I miss Stick Stickley and 90s Nicktoons.

26. What are you eating or drinking at the moment?
Nothing. Want to be. VERY HUNGRY.

28. What's your favorite smell?
Hm, I'm gonna break the rules and not answer this.

29. Describe your life in one word; what would it be?

30. Have you ever kissed in the rain?
Yes, I made it a point to when I got the chance haha.

31. Why did your last relationship fail?
Because I didn't care.

32. What are you thinking about right now?
Lunch. I want Delicious Moments. I want Arlene to not suggest La Boteca

33. What should you be doing?
Eh, work I suppose, but it's slow.

34. Did someone make you upset/angry today? and who?
Nah, all is well.

35. What are you listening to?
Muzak -_-

36. Do you like working in the yard?
Yeah, sometimes actually.

37. If you could have any last name in the world, what would it be?
Wyndam-Pryce haha.  I do like "Shand" though.

38. Do you act differently around the person you like?
NOOOO not at all. Which is one of the reasons why I dig her so much.

39. What is your natural hair color?

40. Who was the last person to make you cry?
Me, probably. Really shitt question to end on :-P

Life Sans Children

So, Erica is taking this Sexy Sexual Ethics class, and it's got me thinking.  Which is strange, because this class takes place pretty much the one time that I'm not still haunting the halls of Molloy.  But the class seems to be stirring a lot of opinions up, and this particular thing got me thinking.  Most people think it's normal to have children.  I think Erica even mentioned that someone said the end goal of a relationship is to procreate.  Woah.  DUPREWOAH.  Woah.  I mean, at a Catholic college, I guess that isn't that surprising that some folks think that way, but to me it just seems so... archaic.

Personally, I'm not interested in having children, which, yay, kinda works out considering Erica agrees.  Maybe to others, it's a selfish, strange, and shocking decision, but to me, it's kinda just awesome.  In so many different ways.

In fact...


1. Money. Personally, I plan on having/hope to have a lot of it.  However, having a kid (never even MIND kidS), would significantly decrease funds.  Modern kids like to go to college.  They like their Wii, their games, eating out, driving places that are far away, and Christmas gifts.  Man, they love their Christmas gifts.  Thing of it is, though, I like all of that shit too.  Like, a lot.  So how beneficial would it be to cut the kid out of the equation?  Super beneficial.  That way, instead of buying expensive Christmas gifts for TWO people, I'm buying for one.  Instead of going out to eat with THREE people, it's just two.  Granted, I'm probably going to want game systems and shit too, and Erica obviously is, but at least there will be no need to buy shit like SPONGEBOB'S OCEANIC ADVENTURE IV!

2. Poop. It smells. Kidpoop probably smells worse than all others.  Why deal?

3. Crying.  Kids are such sissies.  And when they cry, they scream as if someone is going all Hostel on them. Westley is sissy enough already.  Don't need a whiny kid.

4. Gotta say it again: Money.  Without spilling out all the funds on a kid, all of the following stuff will be significantly more possible: Trips to England. Trips to other places. Road trips. Lot of trips, huh? That isn't all. Books.  A lot a lot of books.  Giant pull lists for Comic Book Wednesday. Trips to Comic-Cons where we can actually stay at a hotel. Plays. Man oh man, the plays. Horseshows for Erica. Living without worrying about college, unless I decide that I want some more learninz.

So yeah.

I have to wonder if any of the people who think that the end goal of relationships = procreation have ever really thought it through. I mean, life sans children seems... pretty damn awesome.

I need to stop with these short posts, buuuut...
 Today was much with the goodness.

Put out "Montage."  Reaction has been great so far.

Graphic Novels class was fun.  Love Molloy.  Never want to leave.

Got a flat tire, which doesn't necessarily fall into the "goodness" but, but hey... I changed it! hahah

I got a new bookcase and rearranged my books and DVDs.  Looking great.

Erica came over and we got dinner and looked for a kitteh and we're in love with a black & white cat named Sophie and and and I want.

The entire day was quite :D

(no subject)
Life is a blast!


Sorry for the bitchin' bitching last entry.  Well, not so much sorry, more just like eh to all that now.  It happens.  Over it.

Life in general is good.  I wish I hadn't hit a block on my novel rewrite, but I'm confident that I'll get past it. I just need a really good, really quiet, really empty day that is waiting for me to fill it up with words of adventure, coyotes, and teenagers falling from grace.


-I took some initiative and responded to this ad about free theatre space.  I wanted to do something with INPREGNITO, a play I wrote in 2008 that received a staged reading at Molloy last year.  It's probably my favorite theatre piece of mine, and I couldn't resist the opportunity to bring it to life on my own terms.  Especially considering how much of nothing is happening with the other play.  So I got my friend Dennis to direct, and we're gonna be meeting soon to talk about cast.  It should go up 11/19 and 11/21 in NYC if all goes well.

-I'm auditing a class at Molloy.  Glad to be around those people again.

-Reading and loving "The Book Thief."

-I've been having ideas again.  For a while, when I was deep into the novel, I sort of stopped having a lot of new ideas.  This week, I came up with an idea for a short story that I can tell will work nicely... and also for a graphic novel, that I want to pitch to IDW sooner rather than later.  Gonna talk to Erica about it in an hour or so, just to work out a few kinks.

-Comic-Con is soon.  Going with good people, all three days if I can.  Gonna meet some IDW folks, which should be a lot more than awesome.

-Mohonk with Erica in November.

-And here's the twist. "Montage" actually went damn well.  An actress I know and love jumped in at the last moment and saved our asses.  The footage looks great.

Been a good week.  OH AND ALSO, PS... My  mom is the nicest person ever.  Thanks to her, I was able to hit a few bookstores today and use too many coupons to get an obscene amount of graphic novels.  Read PREACHER and THE EXTERMINATORS.  So, so, soooo fucking good.

Craig Ferguson


This crazy Scottish bastard is probably the most creative talk show host in history.  He's made the show utterly his, and it's brilliant.  Turns out, he's also an amazing--no, Erica would shoot me if I didn't take this opportunity--MAHVELOUS novelist.

So far, his book "Between the Bridge and the River" is so fucked up, so strange, kinda beautiful, and... well... just damn good.  Every character he introduces, even as a passing reference, has some funky backstory.  Like, um, Tootsiepop Ted.

"The children were taken to school in a clapped-out yellow bus driven by Ted Casey, who made sure every child who got on his bus, from the youngest to the eldest, got a Tootsie Roll lollipop.  The kids adored him.  Tootsiepop Ted, they called him.  A few years later, long after Saul and Leon had gone, he became famous as Atlanta's most notorious serial killer when his double life was exposed.  Every two or three months, depending on the position of the constellation Orion in the night sky, Ted would rape and kill an African American prostitute and eat her eyes.

Still, he was good with the kids."

Yeah, read this.  Certainly read this.

Writerly writings
A while ago, one of my favorite actors, Nick Costa, approached me about writing a one man play for him.  I said "yes," of course, because... well, he's brilliant.  We've spoken on and off about it, and no ideas have really gelled.

Then, today, I just started writing.  I don't know where this is going.  Probably some semi-autobiographical, completely absurd, pretentious-but-funny-in-its-pretentiousness non-sense.

Here's a little of what I started.

A lot of the stuff I’ve been thinking about recently is way over my head, so I think I might spend the time I have with you trying to jump up and touch it.

Let’s start at the beginning. There are some people out there who claim that they remember what it was like in the womb. Their descriptions are usually clichéd and gross, because, really, living inside of a womb? Kind of nasty. But more than clichéd or gross or nasty, these womb-rememberers are unremarkable. You remember what it was like in the womb? Bunk! I remember what it was like in my father’s testicle.

It was warm, my brothers were friendly, and the atmosphere was perpetually gooshy. But I didn’t mind the goosh. There is a similar gooshy feeling in the womb, but that gooshiness is disgusting, as the body is starting to develop and recognize that gooshiness is yucky. However, when I lived in my father’s testicle, I was one with the goosh. I was both an independent sperm of a being and part of the collective whole. I was both an individual and part of the substance referred to as jizz, spunk, cum, ejaculate, teste juice. Also, semen.

I’ve seen cartoons that depict the process of fertilizing an egg as a race between sperm to get to the finish line. However, that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Life in a testicle is sort of like living in the Garden of Eden. There are no rules. There is no murder, no competition, no jealousy, nothing but happiness and gooshiness. There is no time. There is no order. There is only blissful chaos, randomness. Camel, fried rice, playing Twister, Jacob’s ladder, porte-fenêtre, fifty-six, The Babysitters Club.

We don’t race to the egg. We’re expelled. The god above us, the god that we were one with, betrays us, shoots us out of the shaft into an alien world. We try to cling on. We try to die. But sometimes, we meet a face worse than death.

We are separated from the gush and we start to become the most sickening, the most vile, the most inhuman of all creatures. We become a fetus.

We lose both our individuality and our community. We become reliant on our mother’s food. We become a parasite. There is no one else like us in this new, less milky, less fun goosh. Just us, lost in the goosh, being teased by everyone outside our microcosm. We kick, we try to burst out, eager to see whatever comes next, even if it’s torture, but when we do so, the beings outside laugh. They like when we kick. They like to see us struggle.

I can’t talk about this womb business any longer. I must go on.

No idea where this is going.  I wrote more.  A lot of really personal stuff.  Also, stuff that completely disparages a terribly pretentious person, and that just sort of came out.  And I loved it.  But I don't know if it'll fit or if it should fit.  I also wrote this really sweet bit that I also don't know about.  AGAIN ALSO, a super pretentious epilogue that I will HAVE to make fit.  More later.

Thoughts, prease?

Inspiration and Climaxes. Not the sexy kind. OR IS IT THE SEXY KIND!? (But really, it's not. Maybe.)
I’m at a crucial part in the writing of The Continuity.

I first started writing the thing in 2005. I’d had the idea in my head for maybe four or five years before that, but 2005 was when I wrote the first draft of the first version. The thing about knowing everything that happens in a multi-book series is that all the big climaxes and payoffs and the stuff that’s REALLY fun to write tends to happen in the later books. All the tragedy and the deaths and the heroics and reveals and all that good stuff.

I remember sitting in the Wilbur computer lab at Molloy in 2005, writing the first huge moment of the series. The climatic fight between Desiree and Winter, where it’s revealed what Desiree is and what role she’s going to play. It was the last chapter of the first book, and the words were just pouring out of me. There was a really clingy girl then, who kept trying to interrupt, who would watch me type with these huge, round, super creepy eyes, asking me what was happening in the narrative, trying to pry me from the writing. Every writing session I had at Molloy, it was like she put some GPS in me to find me so she couldn’t miss the opportunity to try to bother the shit out of me. But this time, I was to engrossed to even let the lemur-eyed interrupter bother me. I was about to finish the first book I’d ever written that I was proud of, that I was invested in, and this moment, this epic battle had been set-up so much by everything I’d writer prior to it that I couldn’t help but be excited. Physically so, to the point that my heart was racing.

And now. In the following years, I wrote two more books in that series before scrapping all of my work and starting over. My style has changed. I’ve changed. The Continuity is shorter. It’s still epic and long and everything it was, but now it’s condensed. Now it’s more, in every sense but physical length.

And now, five years later, I’m back at the same spot. Desiree is about to meet Winter and shit is going to go down. Things are different. It’s in the first third of the book instead of the final chapter. The fight is going to be more straightforward, without the “This is who you are, Desiree” sort of exposition that bogged the first one down, exciting as that was to write. More is at stake now. The characters are more real. I can feel them. I’m excited this time too, but it’s strange because I feel like this has happened before and the writing is all just deja-vu. An extended session of deja-vu.

But it’s fascinating for me as a writer. Instead of saving all the big blow-out stuff for the latter books in the series, now there are bunch in the first book too. Instead of writing all the build-up for these big events chapter-to-chapter, each chapter itself is coming out as something special. I’ve realized that what I wrote before was a decent book with an awesome climax. I want to write an awesome book that engages the brain and heart with every chapter, not just the “big moments.”

And to tie this all together, this time there is no super creepy, interrupty, staring girl to slow me down. In fact, when I woke up this morning and Erica told me that she started the day with umph and purpose, I decided to do the same. So I sat down and wrote. Having someone to inspire you is pretty awesome.

And now, back to the… erm… typing… board?

Gonna go write.

Uber Chick Gets Halloweeny
So.  Um.  Ever write something and then completely forget you wrote it?  Well, I just found an almost finished Uber Chick Halloween story.  Huh.  Go figure.  Here's a bit.  It's not finished so I don't wanna post the entire thing, but... mwhaahah.

All of the customers and employees in assorted stages of fright (and all in costumes of varying suckiness) were tied up in the corner of a room set up to be a haunted jailhouse. They were being poked with plastic pitchforks by a blonde woman clad in a villainous black spandex one-piece, nefarious black tights, and a wicked black cape, who was saying, “Give me your wallets! And your dignity! Oh, and also any Halloween candy you may have acquired!” in a quite menacing voice. She followed it up with a villainous laugh that sounded something like this: “Muuuahahahahahark!”

The Blond Bomber.

“Blond Bomber!” I cried. “Stop your villainous activities at once! This is Halloween, a day for fake scares! Your real evil activities are putting a damper on this sham of a holiday.”

“I enjoy putting dampers on things!” she retorted.

“Well, there is only one thing I enjoy putting a damper on,” I snapped back, “and that is your malicious plans!”

“I see you have changed your costume for the holiday, Uber Chick,” the Bomber spat. “How like you to conform!”

“You are as hypocritical as you are iniquitous!” I cried. “You have festive spider webs painted onto your nails!”

“My manicurist did it as a free treat for me yesterday afternoon. I had no say in the matter.”

“Well, Blond Bomber, as pretty as your nails are, your future is considerably less desirable! Prepare to be defeated!”

What followed can only be described as a brawl of epic proportions.

I lunged at the Bomber. The Bomber ducked. I caught her with an uber kick to the chest—and I say that as a euphemism, because in actuality, I kicked her boob. She cried out in womanly pain that I sympathized with. To show her that I was sorry, I made sure to land my next three blows on her face, to avoid any more booby-shots. She recuperated in time to land a punch to my stomach but, being me, I laughed it off and whipped out my Noob Neutralizer.

The Blond Bomber’s face fell. She knew it was over.

The interwebz have taken over.

Nowadays (I feel like this should be followed with me saying "whippersnappers"), getting in touch with celebrities is fairly easy.  Most of them have blogs, a shitload of them are on Twitter, and even good ol' trust e-mail can be used to correspond with them.  The thing is this, though.  When you're reading a book by an author, enjoying the writing... can't it kind of ruin it when you get a taste of what the actual person is like?  In some cases, no.  In some cases, the author is a nice person who you can feel comfortable talking to.  In other instances, the author is a complete, world-swallowing douche, dick, prick, asshole, etc.  And then, in other cases, they're just kinda... badweird.

But what's most disturbing is the people that flock to these folks.

My first encounter with a celebrity (other than R. L. Stine, who refused to sign my copy of Goosebumps #3: Monster Blood, which was creased and worn with LOVE) was with a writer named... er, well, let's just call him Grain.  In case you were wondering, his name is not actually Grain.  Part of his name rhymes with Grain, but since the dude never really was an outright dick to me per say, I don't really want this rant-ish thing to show up if he were to search his name in Google.  Which, oh, he very much does.

2006.  I'd been reading a lot of Middle Grade fantasy because, for a while, that was actually the genre that The Continuity could have been a part of.  I read his book, which isn't titled but will be referred to as The Obvious God/Jesus Allegorical Fantasy Tale.  Now, while I hate books that preach at you, I can handle allegory.  I don't give a shit what authors believe, as long as they're able to tell a good story.  If that story involves stuff I don't believe in, so what.  I don't believe in vampires, and I love Joss Whedon's work; in that same way, I can take a tale that references religion as what it really is: Fiction.  I mean, two of my favorite TV series deal not only with god, demons, the devil, angels, and fate (Supernatural and Lost), but they do it in a way that doesn't come off as "BELIEVE THIS, OR GO TO TEH BURNY LAKE OF FIRE!"  In Grain's book, the mythology didn't mix with the story as organically as with Lost or Supernatural, but I was able to enjoy it on a surface level.  Forget the godness, and concentrate on the dragons, and you've got a somewhat passably decent novel for the kiddies.  I posted a review of it--generally favorable, thinking it was a 5 or 6 out of 10--on Amazon.  Grain promptly e-mailed me, explaining away (not that pretentiously, actually) all the complaints about the narrative I made.  But... he seemed nice.  Like a generally good dude.

He finished by saying:

"Yours was exactly the kind of criticism I appreciate.
You make some constructive points, also point out the
positives, and avoid the personal slams that some
seemed to think they "owe" me. I haven't had many--but
one big time SLAM. Amazon actually zapped it b/c it
was so personal. Clearly the reader had an agenda.

Yours didn't. "

So yeah, nice dude.  But then.  I go to his blog.  He's running some contests for readers, giveaways, nice stuff.  I see that he's a middle school teacher, and he wrote the book primarily for his students.  I followed the blog for a while, taking all the "Never alone"s and "God bless"es with a grain (teehee) of salt.  But then, when 2008 rolled around and brought the election with it, something switched.  Blog posts changed.  There were many articles along the lines of, "Tell THIS to your atheist or evolutionist friend, and see what they say!" and "Know anyone who is pro-Choice?  Use THIS logic to see them unable to respond!"  And the articles were always so... dumb.  Either idiotic quotes or easily disproved theories that supported the idea that there were actually two people named Adam and Eve who everyone came from.  Shit, that's a whole lotta incest.  I lost a lot of respect for the guy, who was able to restrain his preaching in his books only by using his blog as an anti-choice, anti-free thought, and (closer to November) anti-Obama pedestal.

But (and this is really what the entry is about, I just talk way too much) that isn't what disturbed me the most.  Hardcore Christians are scary, it's true.  Some of them are published authors who can be as charming as Grain initially was, until he showed his true colors on his blog.  None of that was really that surprising.  What was surprising, however, was that there wasn't one dissenting voice in his comment section.  All of his fans agreed with him 100%, and it didn't even seem as if they agreed with him because they really felt these beliefs.  It felt as if they agreed with him because he was Grain.  And that is fucking scary.
Now, don't get me wrong.  I think it's beautiful when a fictional work can influence the way a person sees the world.  Joss Whedon's humanism in Angel, his take on existentialism in Firefly, Ayn Rand's case for objectivism in The Fountainhead, and Joe Meno's "shit happens, people are flawed and kinda beautiful because of it" in The Great Perhaps (to name a few) have all really intrigued me and made me think on a deeper level than most fiction or straight philosophy I've read.  But I'd never be able to say, "I'm Patrick, and I am a _______."  People are too complicated to be able to label their entire way of living as one thing.  As brilliant as those ideas are, and as much as what I read can and sometimes is incorporated into my ideas of how to live life best, I can't see how a person could confine themselves to one set of rules that they've acquired from the brain of someone else.  Yes, humanism and objectivism and existentialism and Buddhism and so many other philosophies and belief systems are beautiful, but no one system can be perfect.  They have to come together into a tapestry of ideas that works for the individual.  Because each of those ideas come from humans, and humans, as a rule, are imperfect.

So it was very disturbing to see legions of fans being swept up by the really warped Christian ideology of this one, super self-righteous dude.

But then I began to notice it elsewhere, too.  People can't seem to think on their own, so when they find someone they respect, they cling to that person's ideas. Take Joss Whedon for example.  Joss is a feminist.  All of the Buffyverse is informed by the idea of taking the blond girl in a horror film--the most cliche victim--and empowering her.  It's a smart idea, and it's beautiful in its own way.  But Joss's work is so much more than that, and it works at so many levels... but fans cling to the female empowerment.  Which isn't bad, because hey, rather that then the opposite, but I find it weird that a whole slew of really intelligent people have just adopted Joss's outlook.

For example, I remember this conversation on Joss Whedon's weblog in response to some preview art from an ANGEL comic:

USER #1: I hate the way the artist draws female characters.  Joss wouldn't approve.

ME: Joss actually handpicked this guy to draw the book. 

USER #2: Yes, I agree, User #1!  Nina's boobs are way too big.

USER #3: Not to mention, the outfit Gwen is wearing is gratuitous.  This is not a feminist book.  I don't like it.  This is not what Buffy is about.

ME: Well, it's Angel, and also... Nina was played by Jenny Mollen.  (http://rpg.justice-knights.com/females/M/j_mollen1.jpg)  Wouldn't it be... inconsistent if she was all of a sudden flat chested?  Franco is a great artist, he's just getting the likeness down.  I mean, check out how he draws Angel and Spike.  Yeah, they're in shape, but they're not buff like a lesser artist would make them in a comic.  Franco is the opposite of gratuitous.  Also, Gwen?  Um, that is literally her outfit from the show.

USERS #1-234 continue to bash on, as if I'd never applied logic.

Now, I love Joss.  I love his ideas and his big squishy brain, and some of his work has influenced my life in some ways.  He applies philosophy to his work in brilliant ways... but he's accidentally created a legion of faux-feminists who have nothing better to do than complain about cup size in a comic book.  Yeah, if they gave Fred ginormous boobs, it would simply be a bad likeness, but that's not the case.  I don't get people who are able to clear their entire head of ideas and fill it up with Whedon's, Grain's, or anyone else's.

I remember talking to one of my favorite writers, Lynch, on Facebook.  Lynch is a brilliant writer whose take on ANGEL is every bit as good as Joss's.  His other, non-Buffyverse work, has given me big happies as well.  And he's fucking nice.  Just an overall good dude.  According to Mooney, another awesome guy from IDW Publishing, Lynch spoke to the editors about trying to get me to do some work for the Angel title.  Didn't happen, because I'm not a big enough name for their flagship title, but what matters is that Lynch is a writer who I was able to connect with over the internet, which has been good for both entertainment, laughs, and writing opportunities.  I remember one day, I posted a status, and Lynch replied that he disagreed with my take on whatever movie I'd mentioned.  We went back and forth, and I thought nothing of it.

Then, my friend messaged me and was like, "Dude, you're outright disagreeing with Lynch? What's up with that?"

And I was just like, "Well, yes."  Lynch is awesome.  I even met the dude.  Good, good guy.  But never once did I think about bending my opinion, even on something as arbitrary as my take on a movie, as to not disagree with him.  It's not like the dude left in a huff and wrote "DISLIKE DISLIKE DISLIKE" on my status. We just debated.  I don't understand people who think it's not only okay, but required, to change your ideas to conform to those of people you respect.

Because as much as I respect all the people who write the awesome books that I read and movies and shows that I watch, I also respect me.  And that comes first.  I wish more people saw it that way, because I think we'd live in a happier world.


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