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It just occured to me that I've never met an Eskimo. Living where I'm at you wouldn't expect to, but still... in my life I've met so many walks of life. No Ekimos though Frowner. The posting on this thread doesn't match the Eskimo title, but I thought I had to throw a comment in here.

Later days

Shawn

P.S. 11:11 and 42 seem to be popping up more and more lately. I always turn to a clock at 11:11 and I keep getting totals ending in 42 cents when I shop.

P.P.S. I need to try the Carbon Monoxide trick next time my neighbor's dog starts barking at the wind.

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Simpler times when it didn't seem like you were just another drop in the Regina pond of fans. (funny I say that since I wasn't aware of what I was missing until this last January)

I got my membership to the old Brumstixs last week for the hell-of-it. Kinda suprised it accepted me.

By the way you can't read other peoples private messages. Also I've been on here for a while now and I can't seem to PM. Any help?

Later Days

Shawn

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I understood the loveology tie-in. Still don't undersand the Eskimo reference. It will have to remain one of those tidbits of material I cannot fathom. Like when I try to imagine if existence didn't exist and the universe was nothing of nothing. Ouch....headache.

From Brumstix I've learned how much the internet is devalued and how it can connect those who ReSpekt a certain musician/person. Especially when I see a locale like Chile or Australia next to that imposing registration date. Smiler

Later Days

Shawn

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That twinge of "just saw her play last night" jealousy rears its head for me contantly. I saw her twice in a week last month and became kermit the frog over the NYU show. Shouldn't be...just always will have that feeling of missin out.

Truth be told I think that large percentage of "registered" users who don't post turn their faces from their monitors with every posting about the awsome show last night. Regina is just one person friends.

Amends do not need to be made in this place and this conversation can continue to reign supreme. I'll try to ruin it myself, but I don't think it's possible.... I could ask where I can purchase 11:11 in cd form. Smiler

Later Days

Shawn (friend to a cool person known as Fuchsia)

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I personally prefer the open-air acoustics of Kermits swamp. The sound is carried further, but I'm sure the humidity would mess with a pretty red piano's sound.

My Eeyore has left me though. I left my Gonzo the Great phase awhile back and have sauntered into a Kermit phase. It's not easy being green....or a cubicle monkey.

As for representing the Reg I feel honored to direct the lovely new members of this humble Hundred Acre Wood. Some may take it as a repetitive nuisance, but I don't mind informing the uninformed with my informed formitude. Is formitude a word? This is the Hundred Acre Wood so I deem it an official word as of.......now.

My Reg shirt doesn't make the street at all. It's that one that remains stationed in my modestly bare closet waiting for the right time. Never really feel like wearing it to my cubicle. The others in the zoo don't understand a cubicle monkey's love for the music. I suppose my crank music box would be better recepted. Oh well!

As for the Eskimo of you intellect, feel free to post it. Eskimos are too foreign to me in any form including prose. As for Mr. Ruff, I'll give the book a glance.

Later Days

Shawn

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As I readily read about Polarized last night, in a haze of sleep deprevation, I managed to unfortunately not retain any information from sentence to sentence. This morning, without the lovely sound of rain fall on my imaginary tin roof, I read it again. Polarized, with his life that is outside Pooh's advisory grap, looks to have a soul that is welcoming. His life has been neither her nor there. He..... I really am unable to fathom anything more. If there's more in you I'd welcome it. Right now I have an image of a sedate Droopy like character in an endearing frilly yet fury Eskimo suit.

Hope they can stay clear of any phone booths or for that matter any towns with a fixation on numbers and letters. The number places give me the heebee jeebies. It could be said this is a result of AP calculus from many years before. However, I can be forgiving of at least one number...42!

Hurrah hurray, I unfortunately cannot stay.

On obtuse but obtruse figure lingers near.

He looks quite confused, cause my works been abused...

from a posting that's coasting at an end

Later for now

Shawn

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As this sad fellow read he felt a form of kinship with David. By no means a life of paralleled events, but of clustered similarities. The girl took commonplace. This sad fellow struggled with what life would offer..what it could offer. Music was a user and abuser and continued to behave cruelly towards him. Driven away he fled into the welcoming arms of the Cineplex. College was different now. Behind the camera he shaped lives that he knew should be, lives that captured what he missed. Life in this simple form endured and left him wanting. Unknown to him this perhaps rang true to a person elsewhere.

As a young boy he fantasized extravagant adventures. Adorned with dog’s named tock and bunny’s named Roger. At the same time a sweet being was being lifted to his Kingdom with the same bunny reflected in blue pools. He long had forgotten these tails and was sad.

As sometime happens he stumbled upon what was missed. What had always been apart of him, but too far away to see. The sweet person was now in his mind. She was so far away yet so near that it tore him inside. Maybe she was wiser and always knew he was there.

Time and whim had them meet and words were lost far before they met his lips. Bashfulness was so strong. This man was a boy back in his young adventures and this princess humbled him into silence.

Regret ran supreme within his mind. His swift way back ran with sadness and longing. People nearest the sad fellow worried and implored him to explain what was wrong. Nothing passed from him that gave great significance. So those near him continued to wonder. Time passed on and people came to understand. They said “send her a letter, let her know”. In many hours time it had been composed. Every attempt however had turned into a sonnet. It varied from respectful court official to its silliest of jesters. With eyes closed and heart beating the parchment was sent.

Time passed and nothing was heard. The heart can sometimes be the weakest of parts, but it always seems hopeful. Time passed even further along and an unexpected visit to her part of the kingdom loomed near. Would he see her? Would a humbled jester or a silly child take control and ruin what could be?

The night came and her warm glow was encompassing many in awe. They all wanted something, but all were looking for just a return. None were knowing of what they were in the presence of. A kindly old man loomed close. He was familiar in a strange way. His actions did not speak of his kindness…it was the way he looked at everyone. Surprisingly the boy approached him without the slightest of hesitation. The man was her father and in the boys eyes he held his highest esteem. After a moment there was a side mention of where he was from and the man immediately knew the boy’s name. The phrase “the one who wrote the letter” came from the father’s lips. All in one instant the boy wanted to run away while another part of him was overjoyed.

People cleared away and for a moment he was with the girl.

With composure lost he began to mumble nonsensically and lost any control or memory of what he was saying. The one he had yearned for from afar was being subjected to his insecure demeanor. Her kindness and grace were more than anything he could have created and the moment was gone. Returning home he was worse than before. What was he to do? Was this strange assortment of places and events just nothing or was it serendipity?……

He knows less of her than the one who he considers to be another heartsick soul …it may hurt just as much.

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Fuchsia-

I'm at a loss for what happened to your posts. The past week I've been absent from the forum and don't know when this occured. My father is about to join Jim Henson in that big Fraggle Rock in the sky so my computer has become dusty from neglect. Wish I would have been able to respond to your last post. Hope all is well... hope all is well with everyone.

Later days all

Shawn

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