text:
No Excuses

My fist hit her face.

Somehow it reminded me of the first time I picked her up for a date, when I had brought her flowers.

Her bones were thin and soft, they gave way easily to my anger. The whole experience was less satisfying than I had hoped. I had wanted to crush her, to destroy her as she had done to me. But I didn’t want it to feel like smashing a bug or taunting a retard, which is how it felt.

I wouldn’t say it was disappointing though, either our first date or our last meeting. I gave her all that she deserved.

For three years she had pumped emotion into me. Filled me with love and caring, topped me off with a fiery lust, emotions that I hadn’t known existed. Then she threw gasoline onto what she had created and it blew up in her face.

I thought that she was the one. She told me that I was right and that she felt the same way. I was young and dumb, stupid enough to believe such things.

It felt like I was betrayed by my faith. Like I had died and stepped to a pair of pearly gates, only to have the man standing there with the checklist laugh at how I had spent all my life following the wrong book. You fucking idiot. You really believed that’s how it goes?

So yeah, while I was hoping that her jaw held a little stronger, I wasn’t disappointed to feel a couple of her teeth loosen under my fists. I hoped that every time she kissed another man she would remember me, that I would be part of her love life forever. At least I knew she would be thinking of me when she went to the dentist.

Our impacts on each other scarred us both. She broke me in her own ways. I now know the monster I can become. I know that sometimes there are no excuses.

title: No Excuses (335)

question: Who is it that the protagonist punches?

answer: Their former romantic partner.

question: Why does the protagonist punch the female character?

answer: The protagonist feels betrayed by their former romantic partner because she presumably ended their relationship. He'd thought that they would be together forever, but that turned out not to be the case.

question: Describe the significance of the title.

answer: The narrator is admitting that there are no excuses for the act of violence he has committed--that he is capable of becoming a monster.

question: How does the protagonist feel about having punched the female character?

answer: He feels a bit disappointed, as he had hoped that her jaw would hold stronger. He is also satisfied to feel her teeth loosening from the impact, and relishes in the fact that he has left a permanent mark on her.

question: Write a ~4 sentence summary.

answer: The protagonist punches his former romantic partner in the face. He feels he has been betrayed by her, as she did not love him as much as he loved her. He relishes in the fact that he is leaving her scarred the same way he believes she has left him scarred. He accepts that he has become a monster.


split: train

text:
_BREAD_ is the self-titled debut album by soft rock band Bread, released in 1969.

_Bread_ peaked at #127 on the _Billboard_ Pop Albums chart. The re-recorded track “It Don't Matter to Me” was issued as a single after the release of Bread's second album, _On the Waters_, and the #1 success of “Make It with You” in the summer of 1970. “It Don't Matter to Me” peaked at #2 and #10 on _Billboard_'s Adult Contemporary and Pop Singles charts, respectively.

The album's cover, with whimsical depictions of the band members photos on paper currency, refers to contemporary slang equating “bread” to money.

Track listing

SIDE ONE

1.  “Dismal Day” (Gates) – 2:21
2.  “London Bridge” (Gates) – 2:32
3.  “Could I” (Griffin, Royer) – 3:31
4.  “Look at Me” (Gates) – 2:43
5.  “The Last Time” (Griffin, Royer) – 4:10
6.  “Any Way You Want Me” (Griffin, Royer) – 3:16

SIDE TWO

1.  “Move Over” (Griffin) – 2:36
2.  “Don't Shut Me Out” (Gates) – 2:39
3.  “You Can't Measure the Cost” (Gates) – 3:22
4.  “Family Doctor” (Griffin, Royer) – 2:15
5.  “It Don't Matter to Me” (Gates) – 2:51
6.  “Friends and Lovers” (Griffin, Royer) – 3:54

Personnel

Bread

-   David Gates – Hammond organ, bass, guitars, percussion, piano, violin, keyboards, RMI electric piano, viola, vocals, Moog synthesizer
-   James Griffin – vocals, guitars, percussion, keyboards
-   Robb Royer – guitar, percussion, piano, RMI electric piano, recorder, flute, bass, backing vocals

Additional personnel

-   Jim Gordon and Ron Edgar – drums

Production

-   Producer: Bread
-   Engineer: Bruce Botnick
-   Production supervisor: Jac Holzman
-   Art direction: William S. Harvey, Coco Shinomiya
-   Cover art concept: William S. Harvey
-   Cover art: Abe Gurvin
-   Design: Bryan Rackleff
-   Photography: Ed Caraeff
-   Liner Notes: Barry Alfonso

Charts

ALBUM - Billboard (United States)

  Year   Chart        Position
  ------ ------------ ----------
  1969   Pop Albums   127

SINGLES - Billboard (United States)

  Year   Single                    Chart                Position
  ------ ------------------------- -------------------- ----------
  1970   “It Don't Matter To Me”   Adult Contemporary   2
  1970   “It Don't Matter To Me”   Hot 100              10

title: Bread (album)

question: Why does "bread" mean money?

answer: Because it's a form of sustenance


text:
Just a conversation between two lovers i thought up. Maybe it will become something more later on

Sex in dark places

	No one ever goes to the movies these days david, we all just stay home and download so we can have all the sex and violence we want, onscreen and off.

	That’s a fairly depressing viewpoint, I mean if that’s really true… well we've degraded down to a species that-

	To a species that has figured out what is most enjoyable in its little biological existence.

	Come on you don't believe that, you can't. There are so many things out there that are so beautiful and pure-

	Sex is pure, pure intimacy and pleasure-

	You know what I mean. I mean the higher pleasures, the ones that separate man from the beasts. I'm talking about the books and stories that really draw you into thought and complexity. There is something there which is precious and unfathomably superior to… to fucking eachother while watching the ultimate fighters bludgeon eachothers bodies into submission.

	You're cheating me david, ha, you are cheating me. I know you are better at philosophizing than I am but even I can recognize what you've done there, even if I can't put into words.

	And what have I done?

	You… you… you just took what I was saying and you made it smaller than it is

	Smaller?

	Worse, you made it worse

	Explain to me how it's better than what I said then

	It's just that sex and violence are the pinnacle. I don't just mean violence like the fist smashing ogres who climb into the octagon. I mean the turmoil of life where everything happens in a rush, where the parts of the present are cast into a torrential future, an uncertain future. Then there's sex, I mean how can you deny the strength of that great beating heart which is screaming for you to grab and fight until you've had everything in reach. When you balance that out with our social restraint and the mixture of passion, frustration, anticipation, longing, and finally burning intense satisfaction. It's the most incredible part of being human David and it is complex and wonderful.

	Well maybe I did put a bit of spin on my shot but I think your exaggerating it a little bit. Violence is all well and good and I understand the excitement. The same is true of sex, it's fantastic in all of the ways you described. What I think your wonderful description lacked though was the blinding clarity that comes about with resolution. The feeling that comes after a long night out filled with fighting and drinking and probably a good amount of sex. When you wake up and that morning light comes in between your blackout curtains and you can really see what came out of all that wild passion and violence and sex, when that happens, that feeling is enough to make you feel so empty and pointless that you just want to cling on to anything.

	I know the feeling and it sucks, it does. You wake up in bed with a stranger and the light shows all the hair and sweat you either didn't see or didn't want to see last night. You remember the yelling, the stealing, the fighting and you remember every shot every pill and powder you've ever had and wonder what the fuck you've done to yourself… more than that you wonder what you've done to your life. What I've always thought though is that that feeling is inescapable if you really examine your life. We are an amazing level of intellect caught up in this flighty and insignificant little biological organism that wants to get fat and make more of itself unendingly. It's always going to be tragic no matter what you do with your life.

	Well if that’s how you feel why do you bother with all the violence and sex and stuff? It's not the easiest way to while a life away. If you're going to hate you're life every time you wake up why not do something easier?

	That's what I've been trying to say all along about the movie theaters and the drive ins and all of that. People don't want to live in that light. They just want to sit in the dark and fuck each other because they know it’s the best they can do. Even if we are grossly over equipped mentally it's still the best we can do. The best we can do is live in a storm of passion and pleasure and try and stay out of the dark, the best we can accomplish is sex in dark places.

title: Sex in Dark Places

question: Summarize the argument about sex and violence.

answer: The purest forms of ecstasy for our species are sex and violence. There's nothing that can come close to them in terms of in-the-moment feelings. Because of that people prefer to just hole up in dark places and have sex or watch stories with struggle instead of going out when given the option.

question: What is the complaint against David about his argument? Elaborate.

answer: David's partner doesn't like that he frames her argument in a way that diminishes its core tenets. He does this by using a relatively banal example of her argument and implying that sex and violence are the lower pleasures even animals have while thought and complexity are unique to humans.

question: Summarize the argument about higher pleasures.

answer: The argument about higher pleasures isn't elaborated on. They are posited to be the pleasures that come from complex stories that promote deep thinking instead of mindless struggle and sex.

question: Outline the contradictory parts in the argument about sex and violence.

answer: The idea is that the best humans can do is have sex and watch violence (meant to be a struggle in general in the context of this story) at home despite our great intellect. However, all great accomplishments in human history are the opposite of this. Hence, it's not possible that this argument applies to humanity in general. It may apply to "ordinary people" but that's an uncharitable view on most people. Another issue is that, according to the argument, people have sex in dark places while watching stories of struggle and violence. That means people avoid the struggle for themselves while seeking sex, hence half of the argument is moot by itself.

question: Write a ~7 sentence summary.

answer: A couple argues about their views regarding people refusing to go out, having all the sex and violence at home, instead. David thinks it's a depressing thing for our species to have degraded ourselves. David talks about higher pleasures. They are posited to be the pleasures that come from complex stories that promote deep thinking instead of mindless struggle and sex. His partner disagrees, saying that the purest forms of ecstasy for our species are sex and violence. There's nothing that can come close to them in terms of in-the-moment feelings. Because of that people prefer to just hole up in dark places and have sex or watch stories with struggle instead of going out when given the option.


text:
I have never had such a vivid dream, and it still frightens me. This is what i remember, in full detail.

At one point during this dream, for what I do not recall, I was brought to a place that felt cold, and lifeless. I could feel myself becoming older very quickly. A strange feeling, as if my aging was accelerating and i could feel every change to my body and mind. Every joint becoming stiff and unforgiving, my memories fading. It was in this place of darkness, it happened.

I was brought in front of a crowd, all starring completely motionless, and I waited. Waited for anything, yet nothing happened. Not a whisper, not a blink, complete and utter emptiness lay in front of me in the form of faces, cold, hollow faces. Then something changed. As I looked into the crowed, there I was. Old and horribly and disfigured, my body completely ravaged by old age, yet one thing stood utterly untouched, the eyes. As ours met, he came forward through the sea of unknown faces, and slowly drew a pistol to my forehead. With our eyes locked, he did not fire, he did not flinch. This standstill lasted for what seemed a lifetime, feeling myself become him through accelerated age, as if the pistol was drawing my youth faster and faster. When suddenly, his hands began to tremble, his blank, heartless stare faded. He began to cry. No words we uttered from his wrinkled lips, only the face of remorse. This, above all the confusion, drove me to a unbearable fury.

" JUST FUCKING DO IT, KILL ME !", over and over and over. Screaming at the top of my lungs... demanding death. Looking directly at my older self, crying, screaming, over and over and over, " JUST FUCKING KILL ME !". Till suddenly, he pulls the gun back , hand trembling, and puts it to his mouth. I became silent as I watched his crying eyes suddenly shut. Then slowly, armed with the same blank, dead stare I had seen before, he turned the pistol once again towards me, and without a word, fired.

title: Watch Me - A Short Story

question: What is happening to the narrator in their vivid dream?

answer: They are aging at an accelerating rate.

question: Explain what happened after the narrator was brought in front of a crowd.

answer: He sees his older self approach him with a pistol pointed at his forehead.

question: What is the narrator yelling at his older self?

answer: Telling him to kill him and pull the trigger.

question: Summarize what happens after the narrator's older self turns the gun on himself into his mouth.

answer: The narrator becomes silent and his older self once again turns the pistol on the narrator and fires away.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer:
The narrator has a vivid but frightening dream about seeing himself age at an accelerated rate. He is then brought in front of a crowd and sees his older self approach him with a pistol pointed at his forehead.
His older self turns the pistol on himself and once again towards the narrator and fires away without saying a word.


text:
_ANNA AND ELIZABETH_ () is a 1933 German drama film directed by Frank Wisbar and starring Dorothea Wieck, Hertha Thiele and Mathias Wieman.[1] The film reunited Wieck and Thiele who had starred in _Mädchen in Uniform_ together two years earlier.

The film's sets were designed by Heinrich Beisenherz and Fritz Maurischat.

Synopsis

Elisabeth, a wealthy young aristocratic woman who uses a wheelchair, hears of Anna a young peasant girl who is apparently able to work miracles. She brings the reluctant village girl to live with her, and appears to have been cured simply through her sheer belief in Anna's powers. However, an attempt to demonstrate Anna's skills to the public fails, and in her despair Elisabeth throws herself off a cliff while Anna returns to her simple village life.

Reception

The film was reviewed in _The New York Times_ following its American release. The review praised the acting of Wieck, but was less impressed with that of Thiele. While admitting that the director had a natural flair for tragedy, the reviewer thought that the film was sometimes so slow-moving that it lapsed into ponderousness.[2]

Cast

-   Dorothea Wieck as Elisabeth, Gutsherrin von Salis
-   Hertha Thiele as Anna, Bauernmädchen
-   Mathias Wieman as Mathias Testa
-   Maria Wanck as Margarete, Elisabeths Schwester
-   Carl Balhaus as Martin
-   Willy Kaiser-Heyl as Pfarrer
-   Roma Bahn as Mary Lane
-   Dorothea Thiess as Annas Mutter
-   Carl Wery as Annas Vater
-   Karl Platen as Dorfarzt
-   Robert Eckert as Gutsnachbar
-   Margarete Kestra as Helena
-   Doris Thalmer as Nena
-   Sybil Smolova as Schiefhals

[1] Bock & Bergfelder p. 530

[2]

title: Anna and Elizabeth

question: What is the relationship between Dorothea Wieck and Hertha Thiele?

answer: They were co-stars in "Mädchen in Uniform" two years earlier.

question: Summarize everything relating to the film "Anna and Elizabeth."

answer: Elisabeth is a young, wealthy aristocratic woman in a wheelchair who hears about a peasant village girl, Anna, who can work miracles. Elisabeth brings Anna to live with her and is cured simply by believing Anna has powers. When Elisabeth tries to demonstrate Anna's healing powers to the public, however, she fails. In despair, Elisabeth throws herself off a cliff. Anna returns to her simple village life.

question: How was the film "Anna and Elizabeth" received by critics?

answer: The New York Times praised Wieck's acting but was less impressed with Thiele. The reviewer also thought the film was slow-moving and dull.

question: List five actors and who they played in the film "Anna and Elizabeth"

answer:
- Dorothea Wieck as Elisabeth, Gutsherrin von Salis
- Hertha Thiele as Anna, Bauernmädchen
- Mathias Wieman as Mathias Testa
- Maria Wanck as Margarete, Elisabeths Schwester
- Carl Balhaus as Martin

question: Write a ~4 sentence summary.

answer: Anna and Elizabeth is a 1933 German drama film directed by Frank Wisbar and starring Dorothea Wieck, Hertha Thiele and Mathias Wieman. The film reunited Wieck and Thiele who had co-starred in "Mädchen in Uniform" two years earlier. The film is about Elisabeth, a wealthy woman in a wheelchair, and Anna, a peasant girl who miraculously cures her. The New York Times reviewed the film and praised Wieck's acting, but was less impressed with Thiele and the pacing of the story, which the reviewer labeled as slow-moving and ponderous.


text:
“I’m going to get to number one in the world. I’ll keep going until I reach my target and that will be in 15 years I want to be a five-time world champion at least, and win other majors as well.”

Peter Wright has never been one to shy away from a challenge. The above quote is what he said in an interview with me more than two years ago now, in the lead up to the 2016 World Championship.

‘Snakebite’ has always set his targets high. Heading into this season the world number two said he was aiming to double his 2017-trophy haul in 2018 and win 20 titles in one year.

We may only be in the middle of March now and there is still a lot more darts to be thrown before the season finale at Alexandra Palace, but Wright’s lofty ambition may need to be reined in for the next few weeks at least.

That is because after last week’s round of matches in Leeds, Wright finds himself just one place above the bottom two in the Premier League.

  Question of the week 2/2

  Which player currently outside the bottom two should be most fearful of elimination from the Premier League?

  — Weekly Dartscast (@WeeklyDartscast) March 12, 2018

A crushing 7-1 defeat to Mensur Suljovic at the First Direct Arena last Thursday, coupled with wins for Rob Cross and Raymond van Barneveld and a draw for Gary Anderson, saw Wright slip from fourth to eighth in the table in one night.

Of course, as much as a player can drop several places in one night in the Premier League, so can they climb as many places in one evening.

There will be many who dismiss the thought of Wright being in the bottom two come the end of Judgement Night in Liverpool next month.

But it’s a scenario which has gained significant traction after Wright suffered arguably two of the worst defeats of his career.

Cast your mind back to the weekend before last and the weather-affected UK Open in Minehead – the scene of Wright’s greatest triumph when he ended his long wait for a first major title 12 months ago.

  TABLE!

  Michael van Gerwen moves top of the @unibet Premier League as Michael Smith sees his winning run come to an end.

  A big defeat for Peter Wright sees him plummet. How costly will that leg difference be? #Unibet180 pic.twitter.com/jXMPnU36Wy

  — PDC Darts (@OfficialPDC) March 8, 2018

The Scot returned to Minehead with an impressive record in the UK Open, before winning the tournament in 2017 he had reached the finals in both 2015 and 2016.

But his bid to retain the title ended at the first hurdle when he was dumped out by Northern Irish teenager Nathan Rafferty in a last-leg decider.

The 7-1 reverse to Suljovic was also a hard one to take for Wright. Against Rafferty he averaged in the high 80s, while against Suljovic his average crept up only a few points into the low 90s.

This from a player who had averaged over the 100 mark in his previous three games in the Premier League, which included a rare TV win over the world number one Michael van Gerwen.

There is no doubt that Wright has the game to pull away from an elimination battle over the next few weeks, but he cannot afford many more slip ups or he could end up facing the axe.

question: What sport is covered in this article?

answer: Professional darts

question: Who is 'Snakebite'?

answer: Peter Wright

question: How many trophies does Wright aim to win in 2018?

answer: 20

question: What country is Wright from?

answer: Scotland

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: Peter Wright, 'Snakebite', is an ambitious professional dart player from Scotland. He hopes to double his 2017 trophy win, winning 20 titles in 2018.


text:
[Centennial marker at ʻIolani Palace. Kawānanakoa is listed as founder of the Friends of ʻIolani Palace.] HELEN LYDIA KAMAKAʻEHA LILIʻUOKALANI KAWĀNANAKOA (July 22, 1905 – May 19, 1969) was a Hawaiian royal who was a member of the House of Kawānanakoa and the second daughter of Prince David Kawānanakoa and Princess Abigail Campbell Kawānanakoa.

Early life

Born July 22, 1905,[1][2] Liliʻuokalani Kawānanakoa was named after Queen Liliʻuokalani, the last monarch of Hawaii.[3] Having been born after the abolition of the monarchy, she had no official royal title; however, she was still known by many in the Hawaiian community as Princess Liliuokalani.[4][5]

She attended a convent school in San Francisco.[6] During her youth, she was known as the “flapper” princess and sported the then-fashionable bobbed hair.[7][8] Her siblings were David Kalākaua Kawānanakoa and Abigail Kapiʻolani Kawānanakoa.[9]

Marriages and family

Liliʻuokalani married five times. Her first marriage was to Dr. William Jeremiah Ellerbrock on January 17, 1925 at Honolulu.[10] The couple had one daughter before divorcing in 1927:

-   Abigail Kinoiki Kekaulike Kawānanakoa (born 1926).[11][12]

Following the divorce, Abigail was adopted by Liliʻuokalani's mother.[13] Her second marriage was to Charles James Brenham at Niu, August 11, 1928; they also divorced.[14] Her third husband was newspaperman Clark Lee, whom she married in 1938; Lee died of a heart attack in 1953.[15] Her fourth husband, whom she married in 1954, was Charles E. Morris Jr; the couple divorced in 1959, and remarried in 1968.[16]

Legacy and death

She was the founder of the Kona Hawaiian Civic Club in 1952 and was the founder and First President of Friends of ʻIolani Palace from 1966 to 1969.[17][18][19]

She died of cancer at her home in Waialae, Honolulu, on May 19, 1969. At her request, her funeral was a private ceremony with none of the pomp or displays of former Hawaiian royal funerals. She is buried at Nuʻuanu Memorial Park.[20]

[1]

[2]

[3] Moniek (February 26, 2020). “Lydia Liliuokalani Kawānanakoa - Regal grace and dignity”. History of Royal Women. Retrieved June 22, 2020.

[4]

[5]

[6]

[7]

[8]

[9]

[10] Moniek (February 26, 2020). “Lydia Liliuokalani Kawānanakoa - Regal grace and dignity”. History of Royal Women. Retrieved June 22, 2020.

[11]

[12]

[13]

[14]

[15]

[16]

[17]

[18]

[19] 1

[20]

title: Lydia Liliuokalani Kawānanakoa

question: What does the text say about Liliʻuokalani's marriages?

answer: Liliʻuokalani was married five times, to four different men. The first was Dr. William Jeremiah Ellerbrock in 1925 and resulted in one child before a divorce in 1927. In 1928, she was married to and divorced from Charles James Brenham. In 1938, she married Clark Lee, who then died in 1953. In 1954, she married Charles E. Morris Jr., from whom she divorced in 1959 and remarried in 1968.

question: What does the text say about island kings?

question: What does the text say about the Hawaiian monarchy?

answer: Liliʻuokalani was born after the monarchy was abolished, but still regarded by many people in the community as princess. She had no royal title. Her parents were a Prince and Princess of the House of Kawānanakoa. She was named after Queen Kawānanakoa, the last monarch of Hawaii.

question: What does the text say about Liliʻuokalani's wedding dresses?


text:
It was a cold, dark night…

I lay in the corner of the street, my head in a puddle, a smell of what can only be described as death circling my very presence. I had lost count of how many days it had been, of how many faces I’ve seen pass me, of how many feet I’ve watched shuffle aside, trying their hardest to avoid my very existence. Of how many eyes had looked at me, and burnt hatred so deep it became almost intolerable. Sheer disgust, seeping out of the breath of everyone who passed. That is what my life had become. Ever since that one day. When everything I thought I knew was ripped apart in front of me.

It was the youngest who took me in. He seemed kind, welcomed me. One of those people that deep down you can tell had a good heart even if they hid it beneath a rough, silent exterior. I lived in his room free to do what I felt, unless the others were around, the older ones. When their voices carried through the door, I was hidden under the bed, its so our friendship will be ours alone I would convince myself, that he wanted me to be all his. But I suppose that should have been the first warning sign. Can a place truly be called your home if you have to hide from its very inhabitants? But sadly, I was naive… no, I chose to ignore it, I was too obsessed, too caught up by this newfound friendship to ever even consider the truth. I thought everything was perfect. Then it happened.  It was late at night, the door slammed behind him as the boy tumbled in. Raised voices instantly burnt through the very walls that surrounded me, through the doors, through everything. I had heard anger in those voices before, the times when I hid, but nothing like this, this was… new. The door crashed open, the boy collapsing to the ground. Eyes bloodshot, his mouth lined with dry, cracked vomit, his shirt, blooded, torn and stained. A sight that I wished I would never see again. As he hit the ground, he looked up at me, but there was no affection any more, just pure emptiness. I heard the voices come closer. There was no time to hide, no time to be hidden. Voices entered the room; eyes were cast down the decrepit shell lying on the floor, then to me. Hatred. Rough hands were placed on me, words crying out that I was to blame, that somehow, this was my entire fault. My protests, my cries of defense, all fell on deaf ears. No matter how much I pleaded, no matter how many times I cried out to them that there was more to me, more I could give to them, it was all to no avail. I was tossed out on the street, my once home fading in my eyesight as I tumbled, seemingly forever, sinking in to my own personal abyss.

An icy wind blew threw me, bringing me back from the horrid memory. I rolled onto my side, no longer sure if it was by my own personal doing or if I simply lacked the strength to offer any resistance. This is it, I thought to myself. This is how it is going to end. All the things I could have done, the places I could have seen, and now this will become my final resting place, a blotch in the street, surrounded by the ear wrecking sound of traffic and drunks. Some rest indeed. Through all the noise, I heard footsteps walking towards me. No doubt to impose some form of abuse towards me in my final moments I had thought. But no, a hand rested on my body. Warmth that I had not felt since… the boy? I turned around and stared up, locking eyes with an unfamiliar face. It was irrelevant. This man has picked me up in my time of need. He had saved me.

 took me to some form of haven for my kind. After I adjusted to the contrast of light, I looked around and saw countless amounts of those in the same position as me. It was amazing. I was no longer a freak. No longer an outcast, I was amongst my own kind at last. The time I spent there was the happiest of my life. On occasions, members of our private little community would be taken away by strangers from the outside, I had lost a few good friends through that, but even then the kind man would always bring in new members, new friends to be made, stories to be heard, connections to be formed. I should have learnt. All good things must come to a pass.

The horrendous noise sounded, the noise that sounded the arrival of a stranger. As usual, our host welcomed the man with open arms, allowing him to take his pick of who he wanted. The stranger cast his eyes along the crowd, passing by everyone I knew, his gaze nonchalant to all. All that is, except me. He looked straight at me, and stopped. Eyes bloodshot, his mouth lined with dry, cracked vomit, his shirt, blooded, torn and stained. The memory flooded through me. It was then I realized just how blind I had been. The night that changed it all, it had not been emptiness in the boy’s eyes. It had been lust! And it was lust again the bore its way inside my soul. The stranger had chosen. I wouldn’t be saying goodbye to a friend this time. I would be saying goodbye to everything.

The door opened to his building. And a building it would always be, never a home. No place with so much vile hatred seeping out of every crack in the wall, so much murk and gloom pouring out of every shadow, could ever be called a home. He sat in front of me, breathing his horrid breath over my neck, running his fingers down my body, inhaling my breath. I knew straight away, this was never going to end well. He lifted me, I felt weightless and powerless under his grasp. He put his lips around me, and it felt like he drank the very life force from my body. His brown, crusted teeth scraping against me, as his course tongue brought him to the satisfaction he had desired for so long. After what felt like an eternity in the lowest ring of hell, he was done. The door was opened, and for the second time in my life, I was cast out. This time however, there was no remorse. There was nothing. I was resound to my fate.

And that’s how I arrived here, lying once again in a gutter. This time, I know there will be no retribution. I can see my life flowing from my body. It’s coming to an end. If only things had been different. If only we really did have medicinal qualities, then maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be the end of just one more bottle of Buckfast.

title: The first story I wrote, no title, around 1100 words. Constructive criticism is welcome. :)

question: Why was the narrator abandoned and living on the streets?

answer: This information can't be found.

question: What feelings must the youngest person have had towards the narrator?

answer: It may be implied that the youngest felt empathetic towards the narrator and hence decided to let him live with him.

question: What could the people have done instead of hitting and then throwing the narrator out?

answer: It may be implied that the people could have given the narrator a place to stay instead of blaming and beating him. After all, he was only trying to find shelter and not cause any harm.

question: What gender does the narrator belong to?

answer: It may be implied that the narrator is a girl.

question: What part of the story seems unethical?

answer: The story talks about poor people being trafficked, this part of the story is unethical and morally wrong.

question: What emotions must the narrator have overcome?

answer: It may be implied that the narrator would have felt absolutely helpless, afraid, and sad.


text:
I feel it might be a bit cumbersome, anyway- any advice/critiques would be greatly appreciated.

———-He would then make his journey, wearing a shirt that featured a sloppy graphic of Paris, Texas’s own Eiffel Tower front and center.  This Eiffel Tower was crowned with a fucking cowboy hat.

Speaking of-

I should tell you about those two-brothers, they were identical twins- one of which went by the moniker Cowboy, who in a very cowboy-esque manner heroically busted into our protagonist’s house at 3 a.m. and used brazen force to grab a sofa that was engulfed in flames to toss it out into the front-yard with a grunt. Apparently, cushion serves as no buffer to an old MGM limp-wristed ashing out of a cigarette.  Our protagonist thanked him with hare-like murmurs once he awoke from the kitchen-floor that red wine and continually shouting ‘I am no senator’s son’ had lulled him to sleep on.  He would always tell me that Cowboy had certain vigilant inclinations that usurped the mental disorder that made him dependent on the state of Texas and it’s few victuals of financial empathy. “If he didn’t get those checks, well, I would have probably burned alive.” Our protagonist would gleefully say over bites of the singular nougat-heavy candy bars that used to provide his only source of nutrition for the day outside of what he got when he traveled to Hunt county, which was wet and eager to trade it’s poison for quarters and the tawdry idioms thrown into over-the-counter service to feign something fetchingly personal.

I was force-fed too much iconography to be concerned with finding out the other brother’s name.

The two-brothers would watch the same recorded episodes of Wheel of Fortune on VHS so that they could consistently be correct with their answers.  Pat Sajak had become an administration of consistent validation.  The two-brothers would pepper in caveats of convoluted logic to the neighborhood kids “Don’t count your toes in spring-time, just don’t do it” before offering them a tuna sandwich or licorice that lost all malleability to time.  They would go the local donut-shop and offer up arm wrestling contests in which the prize was a Spudnut with coconut shavings; rumor has it that they never lost, so the forfeiture to come of their hypothetical defeat was never addressed.  I always wondered.

Everyone saw a litany of misdirected allegory, bicycle baskets and matching pique polos from the thrift-store on Booker road.  They saw a life without the dregs.  Life without rancor towards the swath of simple southern fate.  Everyone responded to them with subtle indifference.  They were patronizers, but they did it out of envy.  He swore it.  Our protagonist saw the enchanting whiteness and front-faced conscious that the (what social arbiters have deemed as the-) ‘mentally-challenged’ bared.  More times than not, he was certain that they were only people within the ‘low-end’ part of town that weren’t nauseated by the smell of sulfur.  He’d invite them over to play on his impromptu front yard golf-course, which was comprised of holes that he’d stuck old coffee tins in and a croquet set he got for fifty cents.  He’d conceptualized it on a raucous Tuesday night.  I think he genuinely loved the two-brothers.  In retrospect, we all should have.

The protagonist, my father, attended their funeral in the spring of 1999.  He wore the only suit he had.  It was an awful onyx grey.  It had masted a decade of convival and powder.  It had seen its fair share.  The pant hems provided slightly splayed pedals of fabric, relics of either dancing or running in The Big D (Our protagonist would say they are actions that operate in tandem.)  He counted his toes for what seemed like decades. We didn’t watch Wheel of Fortune that night.

title: Two brothers: a snippet from a book I'm working on.

question: Where does the story take place?

answer: Texas

question: Who is the protagonist?

answer: The protagonist is the narrator's father.

question: Who is Pat Sajak?

answer: The Wheel of Fortune host

question: What is the protagonist's relationship with the two brothers?

answer: One of the two brothers saved the protagonist from a fire at his house.

question: Who died in the spring of 1999.

answer: The two brothers

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: The protagonist is the narrator's father.


text:
Nathan stood in the corner with hunched shoulders.  He could see nothing but white floral wallpaper.  The walls smelled dusty.  It was so unfair.
    His mom sentenced him to time out for twenty minutes.  For twenty minutes he was supposed to stand in that corner and do nothing.  His Pokemon, Nosepicker, was just a few points away from leveling up and there he was, enduring a staring contest with dust mites.  The worst part was that he didn't even do anything to deserve it.  His mom just hated him, she favored his brother.  All she ever did was nag at him and make him go to bed early and embarrass him in front of his friends.  One time, she planted a note in his lunch that said 'I love you, Sweety Pumpkins!  Ask Sarah if she'd like to come over and play!' and there was a winky face.  Nathan sat with Sarah at lunch that day and Sarah read that note; he was the laughing stock of the whole school.  Life would have been so much better if his mom just disappeared.
	Life went on for Nathan like that for awhile.  He chafed under his mom's curfew.  He had to bring any new girlfriend home for a very formal, very uncomfortable dinner with his mom (and no, Sarah never came for dinner).  No food upstairs, no TV before homework, no closed doors in the house.  High school came and left Nathan with an open tri-fold letter on his desk:  'Congratulations, you have been accepted to the school of your dreams.'  Those dreams finally took him far away for a long time.
	The white floral wallpaper on the walls in the corner is even dustier now.  There are small tears in the paper and dents in the wall, though I don't know how they got there.  My fingers graze the walls.  Time has a way of marking even the most untouchable of places.  I hear my brother's voice behind me.
	“Nathan.  It's your turn.”
I turn from my corner and walk across the living room into the bedroom hall.  Night is falling, and the gloomy twilight from outside is creeping between closed shutters.  I don't bother knocking before I enter my mom's room.  The nurse looks up from an IV unit and twitches something into place before she leaves.  My mom is on the bed looking old.  The bitter twilight from outside turns the hills and dips of her face into valleys and canyons.  Her hair is a vacant facade, and her pinpoint pupils are seeing somewhere else.  I sit in an old white wicker chair next to the bed.
	“Mom,” I whisper, “I'm here.  It's me, Nathan.”  A spark flashes in her eyes and my voice drops, I don't want to extinguish it.  “How are ya doin'?”
	“Nathan?”  Her voice is the skim off the top of her vocal chords.  “Yes, Nathan.  That's my son.  He's a good boy.”
	“I know, Mom, I—”
	“Stubborn too, like me.  Stubborn like his mom, but such a good boy.”
Nathan wasn't a good boy.  Nathan was resentful.  He was unappreciative and wished his mom would disappear.  He would have been glad to see the woman on the bed in front of me disintegrating into the sheets.  I hate Nathan.
	The twilight is freezing into darkness now.  There's a lamp on the nightstand next to me, but I don't want to turn it on.  My eyes close.  I just want to hear my mom's decomposing voice.
	“I give him everything, everything... I'd lay my life down for him.  He's my angel.”
Now my hands search wildly on the bed for my mom's wrist.  What angel was Nathan, the brat who waited in the corner until his mom wasted away?  My fingers find the wrist; it's a twig waiting to snap.
	Why, Nathan, did you do this to me?  You bitched and you moaned and now I am facing your punishment, this wasted woman, your dying mother.  You turned your back in some spiteful waiting game and guess what, you won, you bastard.
	“I love you, Mom,” I say.  It's an echo of someone else's words, a desperate one-liner to flirt with the idea of never seeing her again.
	My mom turns to me and then I know I've extinguished the spark because she croaks, “That's nice, all very nice.”

title: [Critique] an exercise in manipulating POV: Nathan

question: Why does Nathan dislike his mom?

answer: Because she writes notes like 'I love you'  and puts them in his bag, the discovery of which embarrasses him at school. Also, she is very strict, enforcing rules like going to bed early and making sure he watches not TV before his homework.

question: Why does Nathan feel so much guilty at seeing his mother's dying body?

answer: Because he felt ashamed about how he abandoned her by not visiting often. Also, Nathan remembers how he used to feel about her strictness. He feels bad for feeling that way because he understands now that she loves him. Lastly, seeing her dying body was too much for him to take in.


text: The boy walked slowly,alone, one mile then two. After awhile he noticed someone was behind him, however they did not speak and continued together. Soon more and more began to follow the boy. They walked in unison a common path towards an unknown end. The boy led them through the treacherous path and through the easy. Some left him but most stayed on the common path to an unknown end. His path was wide that led through many routes with only one exit. Many passed on searching for the unknown end to the common path. However, the boy continued on. As time passed the followers began to forget why they followed and began to search for an exit from the common path to an unknown end. The followers were lost, now many exits existed that led back to the common path to an unknown end. The true exit was hidden masked by the boy. He loved his followers and he loved the path he had created. There is no exit from the common path to your unknown end. So lets take a trip just follow me.

title: Common path little story nbd

question: Where are the protagonist and his followers going?

answer: It is not clear.

question: Can the followers exit from the path?

answer: It seems they are not able to exit.

question: How do the followers feel about the path?

answer: Many wanted to exit from the path.

question: Does the protagonist know where are they going?

answer: It is not clear.


text:
The MONONGAHELA RIVER ( , )[1]—often referred to locally as THE MON ()—is a [2] river on the Allegheny Plateau in north-central West Virginia and southwestern Pennsylvania. The river flows from the confluence of its west and east forks in north-central West Virginia northeasterly into southwestern Pennsylvania, then northerly to Pittsburgh and its confluence with the Allegheny River to form the Ohio River. The river's entire length is navigable via a series of locks and dams.

Etymology

The Unami word _Monongahela_ means “falling banks”, in reference to the geological instability of the river's banks. Moravian missionary David Zeisberger (1721–1808) gave this account of the naming: “In the Indian tongue the name of this river was _Mechmenawungihilla_ (alternatively spelled _Menawngihella_), which signifies a high bank, which is ever washed out and therefore collapses.”[3]

The Lenape Language Project renders the word as _Mënaonkihëla_ (pronounced ), translated “where banks cave in or erode”,[4] from the verbs _mënaonkihële_ “the dirt caves off” (such as the bank of a river or creek, or in a landslide)[5] and _mënaonke_ (pronounced ), “it has a loose bank” (where one might fall in).[6]

Monongalia County and the town of Monongah, both in West Virginia, are named for the river, as is the city of Monongahela in Pennsylvania. (The name “Monongalia” is either a Latinized adaptation of “Monongahela” or simply a variant spelling.)

Variant names

The USGS name for the river is the Monongahela River; there have been numerous alternate names, alternate spellings and misspellings in historical texts.

Geography

The Monongahela is formed by the confluence of the West Fork River and its “east fork”—the Tygart Valley River—at Fairmont in north central West Virginia. From there it flows northeasterly to cross the Pennsylvania border just west of north Cheat Lake on its Cheat River tributary. Then it flows northerly across southwestern Pennsylvania, taking a bit of a detour northeast 10 miles south of Pittsburgh to approach Pittsburgh from the southeast and its confluence with the Allegheny River to form the Forks of the Ohio at “The Point” of Point State Park in Downtown Pittsburgh.

Geology

Prior to early Pleistocene regional glaciation, more than 780,000 years ago, the ancestral Monongahela River (a.k.a. the Pittsburgh River) flowed northward from present-day north-central West Virginia, across western Pennsylvania and northwestern Ohio, and into the Saint Lawrence River watershed. One (or more) extensive ice sheet advance dammed the old north-flowing drainage and created a vast lake—known as Lake Monongahela—stretching from an unknown point north of present-day Beaver, Pennsylvania for ~ south to Weston, West Virginia. A river-lake with many narrow bays, its maximum water surface rose to above sea level. Over deep in places, its southwestward overflow gradually incised old drainage divides and contributed to the geological development of the present-day upper Ohio River Valley.[7][8]

Hydrography

Via the Ohio River, the river is part of the Mississippi watershed which drains to the Gulf of Mexico on the Atlantic Ocean.

The river's length is 130 miles, its drainage basin is 7,340sq.mi. and the average 30-year discharge at Elizabeth, Pennsylvania, is 9109cfs. It falls 3,831 ft. in elevation from its forks to its mouth on the Ohio River. The mean depth is about 20 ft.

In southwestern Pennsylvania, the Monongahela is met by two major tributaries: the Cheat River, which joins at Point Marion, and the Youghiogheny River, which joins at McKeesport.

Major tributaries include: Becks Run, Big Sandy Creek, Buffalo Creek, Cheat River, Crooked Run, Deckers Creek, Dunkard Creek, Lick Run, Middle Fork River, Paw Paw Creek, Peters Creek, Streets Run, Turtle Creek, Tygart Valley River, West Fork River, Youghiogheny River.

Locks and dams

The river is navigable its entire length with a series of locks and dams that maintain a minimum depth of to accommodate coal-laden barges. All dams are operated by the Pittsburgh District Army Corps of Engineers. In 2006, the navigation system, operated by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, had nine dam-locks along of waterway.[9] The locks overcame a change in elevation of about .[10]

-   Braddock Locks & Dam
-   Locks & Dam 3
-   Locks & Dam 4
-   Maxwell Lock & Dam
-   Grays Landing Lock & Dam
-   Point Marion Lock and Dam
-   Morgantown Lock and Dam
-   Hildebrand Lock and Dam
-   Opekiska Lock and Dam

Ecology

According to the EPA's Toxics Release Inventory for 2010, the Monongahela ranked as the 17th most polluted river in the nation.[11] The primary polluters were Pennsylvania iron and steel mills.

Recreation

The upper drainage area of the river basin is renowned for its water sports/hobbies of whitewater kayaking (and in some cases whitewater rafting) opportunities. The land here is of a very rugged plateau type which allows streams to gather sufficient water volume before they fall off the plateau and create challenging rapids. Some of the best known specific stream locations for this include:

-   Youghiogheny River at Ohiopyle, Pennsylvania[12]
-   Youghiogheny River at Friendsville, Maryland[13]
-   Cheat River at Albright, West Virginia[14][15]
-   Tygart River at Belington, West Virginia[16][17][18]

History

18th and 19th centuries

The Monongahela River valley was the site of a famous battle that was one of the first in the French and Indian War—the Braddock Expedition (May–July 1755). It resulted in a sharp defeat for two thousand British and Colonial forces against those of the French and their Native American allies.

In 1817, the Pennsylvania legislature authorized the Monongahela Navigation Company to build 16 dams with bypass locks to create a river transportation system between Pittsburgh and the area that would later become West Virginia.[19] Originally planned to run as far south as the Cheat River, the system was extended to Fairmont, and bituminous coal from West Virginia was the chief product transported downstream. After a canal tunnel through Grant's Hill in Pittsburgh was completed in 1832, boats could travel between the Monongahela River and the Western Division Canal of Pennsylvania's principal east-west canal and railroad system, the Main Line of Public Works. In 1897, the federal government took possession of the Monongahela Navigation through condemnation proceedings. Later, the dam-lock combinations were increased in size and reduced in number.[20]

Briefly linked to the Monongahela Navigation was the Youghiogheny Navigation, a slack water system of between McKeesport and West Newton. It had two dam-locks overcoming a change in elevation of about . Opening in 1850, it was destroyed by a flood in 1865.[21]

During the 19th century and well into the twentieth, the Monongahela was heavily used by industry, and several U.S. Steel plants, including the Homestead Works, site of the Homestead Strike of 1892, were built along its banks. Following the killing of several workers in the course of the strike, anarchist Emma Goldman wrote: “Words had lost their meaning in the face of the innocent blood spilled on the banks of the Monongahela.” Other mills included the Edgar Thomson Works in Braddock, the first steel works in the area, the Duquesne Works and the Jones and Laughlin steel works on the South Side of Pittsburgh. Now only the Edgar Thomson works remain producing steel along the river.

Despite the closure of many of the mills in the 1980s and 90s, the Monogahela is still an important waterway for industry. The Mon Valley Works of U.S. Steel operates three plants, including the Edgar Thomson plant for basic steel marking, the Irvin plant for steel finishing, and the Clairton plant for coke production[22]. Coal barges are a common sight on the river, and the railways which line either side are heavily used by freight. Other industries include power generation, chemicals, and recycling.

20th century

Three ships in the United States Navy have been named _Monongahela_ after the river. In October 1930, severe drought caused the river flow to drop below 10cfs, and in some places, it was possible to walk across the river bottom.

The river was the site of a famous airplane crash that has become the subject of numerous urban legends and conspiracy theories. Early in the morning of January 31, 1956, a B-25 bomber en route from Nellis Air Force Base in Nevada to Olmsted Air Force Base in Pennsylvania crashed into the river near the Glenwood Bridge in Homestead, Pennsylvania. All six crewmen survived the crash, but two later succumbed to exposure and drowned. Despite the relative shallowness of the water, the aircraft was never recovered.[23][24] The _Pittsburgh Post-Gazette_ published a graphical representation of the flight path and flight details in 1999.[25][26] As of October 2018, the bomber has not been found.

Gallery

Image:Monongahela River Pittsburgh.jpg|The South Tenth Street Bridge over the Monongahela River in Pittsburgh in 2005 Image:Monongahela River Fairmont.jpg|The Monongahela River in Fairmont, West Virginia, in 2006 Image:Monongahela River Scene Pittsburgh PA 1857.jpg|Monongahela River Scene, 1857[27] Image:Opekiska Lock and Dam Monongahela.jpg|Opekiska Lock and Dam on the Monongahela River near Fairmont, West Virginia, at river mile 115 ()

[1] There are several ways to pronounce this word that are acceptable. From “Geographical Names” of _Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary_, Eleventh Edition (2009): , or .

[2] U.S. Geological Survey. National Hydrography Dataset high-resolution flowline data. The National Map, accessed August 15, 2011

[3] Zeisberger, David, _David Zeisberger's History of the Northern American Indians in 18th Century Ohio, New York and Pennsylvania_, pg 43; Wennawoods Publishing, 1999,

[4]

[5]

[6]

[7]

[8]

[9]

[10]

[11]

[12]

[13]

[14]

[15]

[16]

[17]

[18]

[19] Monongahela Navigation Company Copybook, 1840-1897, DAR.1937.41, The Darlington Collection, Special Collections Department, University of Pittsburgh

[20]

[21]

[22] usssteel.com

[23]

[24]

[25]

[26]

[27] _Ballou's Pictorial_, issue of 21 Feb 1857

title: Monongahela River

question: Why is the Monongahela River important?

answer: It has been used (and is still used) to transport materials for several steel plants, it was the site of an important battle between the French & the Indians, and is the site of a plane crash that's turned into an urban legend.

question: Why is the Monongahela River good for transportation?

answer: It's large-- It goes from Pennsylvania all the way down to West Virginia, & the entire river is navigable via a series of locks and dams.


text:
NIKOLAI PARAMONOV MANSION (__) is a mansion in the city of Rostov-on-Don. It was built in 1914 for book publisher Nikolai Paramonov. The mansion was designed by architect Leonid Aeberg. The building is currently occupied by the Y.A. Zhdanov Scientific Library of Southern Federal University.[1] The house is of Neoclassicist style and is considered to be an architectural monument of federal importance.[2]

History

The mansion of the prominent book publisher Nikolai Paramonov was built in 1914. Leonid Aeberg was the designer and builder. Paramonov lived there afterward with his wife Anna and their children.[3]

The building was confiscated by Soviet authorities at the beginning of 1918 and became the headquarters for the Rostov-Nakhichevan Revolutionary committee' headquarters.[4] In May of the same year, after the expulsion of the Bolsheviks from Rostov, the mansion became headquarters for the Volunteer Army. At the end of 1918 a large fire severely damaged the building, and it was not repaired until 1923.[5]

After repairs, it became the Recreation Center for Builders, which was soon replaced by Institute of Blood Transfusion. In 1930s the building was the place for Regional Museum of Local History.[6]

During World War II, the mansion was damaged by fire several times, yet the walls stood. In 1947, local authorities decided to have the mansion repaired. Leonid Aeberg was again appointed to be in charge of this work.[7] In 1952, the repairs were finished and the building was given to Rostov State University.[8]

At the beginning of 21st century it became obvious that the mansion required another major repair. Long-term dampness in the basement had harmed the building and books that were kept there.[9] In 2005 the facade was repaired. Reconstruction of the rest of the mansion began in autumn of 2013.[10]

Architecture

The mansion was built in Neoclassicist style. The main northern facade has a symmetrical composition. There is a six-column portico at the center of the Ionic order. The side facades are decorated with rows of pilasters.[11] A four-meter two-sided staircase leads to the main entrance.[12] The ground floor ends with a wide cornice.[13]

[1]

[2] http://old.kulturnoe-nasledie.ru/monuments.php?id=6110006000 Министерство культуры РФ. № 6110006000

[3]

[4]

[5]

[6]

[7]

[8]

[9]

[10]

[11]

[12]

[13]

title: Paramonov mansion

question: In what style was the building designed?

answer: Neoclassicist

question: How many years did the building remain damaged from the 1918 fire?

answer: Five years

question: What needed repairs in 2005?

answer: The facade

question: Who took over the mansion in 1918?

answer: The Rostov-Nakhichevan Revolutionary committee

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: This article discusses the history of the Paramomanoc mansion. It lists several organizations that have been based within the facility and describes the many renovations the building has undergone.


text:
 A lone man stands with the only mind that knows the full story. With eyes covered in tears, he looks to the beach of the reservoir; to his surprise he had left no footprints in the sediment. Not that it mattered.
 His thoughts, as unfocused as they were, had one thing in common, what lied in front of him.

At least once in every man’s life, he will reach a problem that he cannot explain. Whether or not this problem is self-inflicted isn’t important, what is important is how he tries to solve it.

Much like other men he turned to those who have never helped him before, those whose faces have never been seen, and voices never heard.

The man laid down his head and whispered:

          Oh supreme, who has seen my Struggle
          Who has seen my truths and tale
          Oh supreme who helps those who deserve it not
          Who gives wealth to those who need the wrought
          Oh supreme who as heard all
          But only listened to the greedy
          Not the needy
          Oh supreme will you give me the knowledge
          Or shall I stay alone as always

He received no answer.

Looking at the body that lied before him, he felt only the purest fear. He looked at the dull eyes, the eyes that used to see, and glisten, but now are pale and only see death.
The torso showed twelve lumps could be seen on each side, and the waist has not seen nourishment for many days prior to the death. Inside the most expensive of shoes, two feet twisted in unnatural ways.

These were the same shoes the living man had worn, and with those shoes they both had the same suit hanging on their body.

With further observation one could tell that the man first broke his ankles, and with no motivation did not crawl to help. For it is not uncommon for the greatest of men to fall, and never to get back up.

title: Oh Supreme- Open to Criticism

question: What is the full story?

answer: Information not found.

question: What problem does the man have?

answer: The problem could be that he fell into a reservoir and can't get out.

question: Will his prayer be answered?

answer: His prayer is not answered.

question: Where is this man?

answer: He is on the beach of a reservoir but no indications of city or country.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: A man is on the beach of a reservoir, thinking about his problem. He prays for knowledge but his prayer is not answered. Inside the reservoir, there is a body of a man who looks like he died of starvation after he tried crawling out of there but broke his ankle.


text:
We love talking about Dave Mustaine, and his many loony rants, so much so that we now have a whole section on the blog to talk about it. Now that Mustaine has made peace with his former bandmates in METALLICA, he's stopped talking shit about them. On the contrary, he keeps talking to the media about a pitch he made to James and Lars about starting a supergroup featuring the three of them and Megadeth bassist David Ellefson on bass. He can't shut up about it, and it's too bad because in a new interview, James Hetfield just wishes he would stop talking about it.

In an excerpt from the upcoming 30th anniversary edition of Metallica's "So What" magazine, James Hetfield was interviewed and talked about reconnecting with Mustaine and how he wishes Mustaine would learn how to keep his mouth shut sometimes:

  “I think especially with Dave, with all of his struggles,” says the frontman. “I see him healthier now. I see him as less of a bitter guy.

  “But I do see a lot of stuff in the press with him talking about jamming with us and making an album. All this other crazy stuff.

  “I read it and say to myself, ‘Hold on. This is the Dave that we kind of wanted to forget about. You know, the big mouth that wants to just go-go-go.’

  “But there is an authenticity about him when he speaks. He doesn’t think too much before he does. He just goes off the cuff. Plus, when he says stuff like that it’s well-intended.”

At least the Metallica dudes are taking it all in stride. They could've just been like, ok that's it, Dave's cut off, but they realize it's just Dave being Dave. Now, I'm sure Mustaine will be interviewed in a few days and say the media is blowing everything out of proportion, so stay tuned for that!

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question: What band is Dave Mustaine part of?

answer: Metallica

question: Are they actually going to form the group that Dave talks about in his rants with James, Lars, and David?

answer: Information not found.

question: What does James think about Dave talking to the media about that group he wants to form?

answer: James wished Dave would shut up about it.

question: For what magazine was James interviewed?

answer: For "So What" magazine.

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: The text is just a short gossip about how Dave Mustaine of Metallica doesn't think before he talks.


text:
_FRIDA – 4XCD 1XDVD_ is a boxed set compilation album by Swedish singer Anni-Frid Lyngstad, better known as Frida, released on 5 December 2005 by Polar Music. This box set contains her solo albums, Frida ensam, Something's Going On, Shine, and Djupa andetag (Deep Breaths) and a DVD documentary film, Frida – The DVD.

History

This idea was conceived by Marie Ledin, daughter of Stig Anderson, who worked with Anderson Records, who stated that “the idea that we should make a DVD came from a Frida fan from the beginning.” Ledin spoke to Mårten Aglander, managing director of Universal Sweden, and Lyngstad about the documentary and the compilation. As Lyngstad turned 60 years old at that time in 2005, Ledin thought it would be a good idea to “do the DVD and also do a box set with the Polar [Music] albums.”[1] Thus, it was made, with Lyngstad's permission,[2] and meticulous research done by Ledin for the documentary, Frida – The DVD.[3]

Content

_Frida – The DVD_ contains television clips of Lyngstad's performances prior to ABBA, two documentaries about the making of Something's Going On, and Djupa andetag, which was part of the documentary special, Frida – Mitt I Livet, both of which were produced by Sveriges Television. _Frida – 4xCD 1xDVD_ also includes its accompanying music videos from her career's time periods, and her exclusive interview in Zermatt; which featured Lyngstad talking about her personal life, career, personality, and encounters with celebrities such as Lasse Berghagen, and Phil Collins,[4] as well as including her first four solo albums with Polar Music and her only album with Anderson Records, Djupa andetag.

Track listing

Frida ensam

1.  “Fernando” (Stig (Stikkan) Anderson, Benny Andersson, Björn Ulvaeus) - 4:14
2.  “Jag är mig själv nu” (“Young Girl”) (Jerry Fuller, Marie Bergman) - 3:05
3.  “Som en sparv” (Jan Askelind, Barbro Hörberg) - 3:43
4.  “Vill du låna en man?” (“The Most Beautiful Girl”) (Norris Wilson, Rory Michael Bourke, Billy Sherrill, Anderson) - 2:45
5.  “Liv på Mars?” (“Life on Mars?”) (David Bowie, Owe Junsjö) - 3:48
6.  “Syrtaki” (“Siko Chorepse Syrtaki”) (Giorgos Zambetas, Alekos Sakellarios, Sam Lundwall) - 2:58
7.  “Aldrig mej” (“Vado Via”) (Enrico Riccardi, Luigi Albertelli, Anderson) - 4:06
8.  “Guld och gröna ängar” (“The Wall Street Shuffle”) (Eric Stewart, Graham Gouldman, Junsjö) - 3:41
9.  “Ett liv i solen” (“Anima Mia”) (Flavio Paulin, Ivano Michetti, Mats Paulson) - 3:53
10. “Skulle de' va' skönt” (“Wouldn't It Be Nice”) (Brian Wilson, Tony Asher, Marie Bergman) - 3:17
11. “Var är min clown?” (“Send in the Clowns”) (Stephen Sondheim, Mats Paulson) - 4:22
12. “Man vill ju leva lite dessemellan” (“Chi Salta Il Fosso”) (Vittorio Tariciotti, Marcello Marrocchi, Franca Evangelisti, Anderson) - 2:53
13. “Ska man skratta eller gråta?” (“Principessa”) (Gianfranco Baldazzi, Sergio Bardotti, Rosalino Cellamare, Anderson) - 3:51

Something's Going On

1.  “Tell Me It's Over” (Stephen Bishop) – 2:52
2.  “I See Red” (Jim Rafferty) – 4:33
3.  “I Got Something” (Tomas Ledin) – 4:04
4.  “Strangers” (Jayne Bradbury, Dave Morris) – 4:06
5.  “To Turn the Stone” (Pete Bellotte, Giorgio Moroder) – 5:26
6.  “I Know There's Something Going On” (Russ Ballard) – 5:29
7.  “Threnody” (Per Gessle, Dorothy Parker) – 4:17
8.  “Baby Don't You Cry No More” (Rod Argent) – 3:02
9.  “The Way You Do” (Bryan Ferry) – 3:38
10. “You Know What I Mean” (Phil Collins) – 2:37
11. “Here We'll Stay” (duet with Phil Collins) (Tony Colton, Jean Roussel) – 4:03
12. “I Know There's Something Going On (Single Edit)” (Ballard) – 4:07
13. “Here We'll Stay” (Solo Version) (Colton, Roussel) – 4:11

Shine

1.  “Shine” (Kevin Jarvis, Guy Fletcher, Jeremy Bird) – 4:39
2.  “One Little Lie” (Simon Climie, Kirsty MacColl) – 3:44
3.  “The Face” (Daniel Balavoine, Kirsty MacColl) – 3:40
4.  “Twist In The Dark” (Andee Leek) – 3:43
5.  “Slowly” (Björn Ulvaeus, Benny Andersson) – 4:34
6.  “Heart Of The Country” (Stuart Adamson)– 4:38
7.  “Come To Me (I Am Woman)” (Eddie Howell, David Dundas) – 5:04
8.  “Chemistry Tonight” (Pete Glenister, Simon Climie, Kirsty MacColl) – 4:56
9.  “Don't Do It” (Anni-Frid Lyngstad) – 4:37
10. “Comfort Me” (Pete Glenister) – 4:28
11. “That's Tough” (Anni-Frid Lyngstad, Hans Fredriksson, Kirsty MacColl) - 5:03
12. “Shine” (Extended Mix) (Kevin Jarvis, Guy Fletcher, Jeremy Bird) - 6:31

Djupa andetag

Frida – The DVD

According to Carl Magnus Palm[5]

1.  En ledig dag
2.  My Man
3.  Just One Of Those Things
4.  Mad About The Boy
5.  Baby Love
6.  I min blommiga blå krinolin
7.  Kalle på spången
8.  Min soldat
9.  Att älska i vårens tid
10. Söderhavets sång
11. Gitarzan
12. Why Did It Have To Be Me
13. Fernando
14. Let's Get This Show On The Road
15. Can't Buy Me Love
16. Cry Me A River
17. Got To Get You Into My Life
18. Aquarius
19. Words Of Love
20. Fire And Ice
21. Here We'll Stay
22. I See Red
23. I Know There's Something Going On
24. Shine
25. To Turn The Stone
26. Så länge vi har varann
27. Twist In The Dark
28. Come To Me (I Am Woman)
29. Heart Of The Country
30. One Little Lie
31. Ögonen
32. Även en blomma
33. The Sun Will Shine Again
34. Dancing Queen (with The Real Group)
35. I Have A Dream

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5]

title: Frida – 4xCD 1xDVD

question: Who is Frida?

answer: Anni-Frid Lyngstad, a Swedish singer.

question: What is contained in the Frida boxed set compilation album?

answer: The set, made up of four CDs and one DVD, contains three of her solo albums (Frida ensam, Something's Going On, Shine, and Djupa andetag) and a DVD documentary film titled Frida - The DVD.

question: When was the Frida boxed set released?

answer: December 5, 2005

question: Describe the contents of the DVD included in the Frida boxed set.

answer: The DVD contains telivision clips of Frida's performances prior to ABBA, and documentaries about the making of two of her albums.

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: Frida 4XCD 1XDVD is a boxed set released in 2005 that contains four of Anni-Frid Lyngstad's solo albums and a DVD of her performances prior to ABBA and documentaries on the making of her albums.


text: "Dr. Ferguson, here's the autopsy report for that nut the cops had to taser, and you're not going to believe this."  Nurse Porter slide the chart across the counter.  In her 9 years at Boston General Hospital, Dr. Susan Ferguson had seen just about everything, and the guys in the morgue were losing their touch if they thought she'd believe this nonsense. "They're pulling a fast one on us, Josh." Dr. Ferguson said with a smirk as she slid the report back across the counter.  Nurse Porter leaned forward and said quietly, "No, I saw the thing they pulled out of his chest.  It was implanted just under the skin and had wires running into his heart. And that's not the only weird thing."  He walked around the counter and sat down next to Dr. Ferguson. "The EMTs gave me this bag full of his possessions, take a look at this stuff."  She took the bag from the nurse and pulled out a wallet.  When the patient was admitted, he was already dead, but the officers who'd accompanied the EMTs said the man was delusional.  The police report explained he was screaming at them to take him to a pentagon or something like that, and that he worked for the 'yew-ess-dee-oh-dee' whatever the hell that was.  If the man was delusional, he certainly went to a great lengths to reinforce his own fantasies.  Inside the wallet were three 'Federal Reserve Notes' that said 'The United States of America' with a picture of someone above the name 'Washington'.  There was also a very official looking driver's license, from the 'State' of Virginia 'USA'.  "Okay, now I'm a little weirder out." Dr. Ferguson confessed.  "Wasn't this Washington guy one of the leaders of that Tax Rebellion? It's been years since I took a history class."  Nurse Porter reached into the bag, pulled out another item, and handed it to Dr. Ferguson.  It was a rectangular piece of plastic with rounded corners. One side was flat and looked like black glass with a single small button.  She read what was written on the back aloud "I phone?" She flipped it in her hand and pressed the button on the glass side.  It lit up and a bar jumped across face of the device to where her thumb was resting on the glass.  It made a click sound.  The screen changed to a series of small pictures.  When she removed her thumb, the screen, incredibly, reacted to her touch.  "Maybe we should phone the Ministry of Defense?" She said. Her hand began to tremble.

title: The Patient

question: How long has Dr. Sarah Ferguson been at Boston General Hospital?

answer: Nine years.

question: What was implanted in the patient's chest?

answer: A ring.

question: Where had the man been screaming at the officers and EMTs to take him?

answer: The Pentagon.

question: What does the doctor think they should do?

answer: Contact the Ministry of Defense.

question: Write a ~6 sentence summary.

answer: Dr Ferguson's nurse alerts her to findings in a deceased patient. They discovered a peculiar ring in his chest. Though he was dead upon arrival, the officers and EMTs reported that he had been yelling that he needed to go to the Pentagon. There are no identification documents on the man, but the nurse pulls from his belongings an i Phone-like disc. It seems to respond to touch, and slides of pictures materialize. Dr Ferguson trembles as she suggests maybe they should call the Ministry of Defense.


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incolores.exe

Executable (.EXE)

-   File size: 10.87MB
-   Uploaded: 2013-01-20 16:42:07

About Executable Formats

An executable file is a file in a format that a computer can directly execute. Although most executable files are safe, these formats are the most commonly used to transmit viruses and infect computers with malware. Executable files should be scanned with up to date anti-virus software and should not be opened unless you trust the source or were expecting this file.

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question: Who is the intended audience?

answer: The text about Executable files on its own is likely intended for individuals who are not computer experts.

question: Where is this text likely to appear?

answer: Possibly on an app store page or other webpage where files are likely to be downloaded.

question: When was this written?

answer: Likely after 20th January 2013 given that is the date where the Executable file was uploaded.

question: What is the purpose of the text?

answer: The text about Executable files seems intended to inform the audience. The rest of the text, encouraging the reader to upgrade, is probably intended as an advertisement

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: This text explains what an executable file is, with some peripheral text encouraging the reader to upgrade their software.


text:
Everyday I wake up and I fail. I am nothing, I am no one. If this wasn't true then wouldn't she love me?  Maybe she could love me like her other children if I was better. I see it in the way her angry dark eyes go Soft when she looks at them. "One minute sweety, I'm just dealing with your sister." knowing I was in trouble they'd turn their back and walk away pretending they had no clue. I do not blame them nor hate them. I'm sure I'd do the same. I will stand here and take it so she will not go after them. "Why can't you do anything good enough? Your siblings are perfect. You are a disease, a burden, worthless." she spits out every word like a whip lashing across my face. Slowly I nod. Knowing every word she says is true. I see the anger in her eyes flicker. Changing.... She's changing again. The anger turns to weeping. "Every thing I do is wrong to you. You never accept me. You just push me away over and over. How can I help you if you won't let me! You hurt your dad so much. Broke him. You're the reason he left. It should have been you."

     It was my fault he left. I stopped talking then he stopped being a dad. How could I talk to him? Someone so worthless like me being loved by someone so perfect like him. It wasn't fair. Eventually he stopped trying to talk to me. Soon I was nothing to him. Until he left. In my hand he left a note saying " I love you." I ripped it up and threw it away. I know the truth. No one could love me.

      People say school is an escape. They're wrong. I find myself afraid and more self conscious than ever. It's not as if I'm bullied. No I have lots of "friends" but non of which actually know me. I put on that happy face and cheery laugh using every bit of energy trying not to fall apart. In my desk I feel the pairs of eyes watching me. I just sit there like the fat cow I am, Tugging down the back of my sweater that I should fit in. Crossing my arms over my disgusting stomach. Their stares are the worst. Gathered into the groups I feel their hot gaze piercing my body, laughing always laughing. Maybe they were talking about me. Maybe not. I look up to notice 15 minutes have gone by. I've missed the lesson being swallowed by my own thoughts. Stupid. This is why my marks went down. I can't help but listen and take part in the conversations that occur in my head. No school is not an escape. The only place I am safe is in my sleep.

Sleep is my bliss. The only part of the day I look forward to. Maybe one day I will sleep and never wake up. Stuck in a dream forever. One once said "I cannot face reality so I get lost in my dreams," I know this is true. Every word. That surprising considering I don't know much. There was a time when I cared. What changed? Me or her? There were times I would try to go back. Back to how things were. Almost as if another person inhabited my body. A new voice. The younger version of me. Maybe she would love that version.  Nope. Stupid. I feel the skin on my tongue raw and bloody from where I've been biting it. Pain. I deserve it. This is how I get control of my life. The cold metal pressing against my skin was the only thing that cleared my mind. Till she took that from me to. When things get real bad my whole mouth is bloody. That what happens when I think. People get hurt. I try not to think.

Normal kid. Why cant I be normal. Before I was not close to normal and people knew. Then there was the day I decided to keep it all inside. So much kept inside me driving me to insanity one sentence at a time. Why just the other day a Thought that started out as a simple childhood memory turned to how it Makes complete sense that all human babies are actually grown as oranges. She is right. I am a disease. I will keep it to myself. The less people know the safer they are. They told me to grow up. I tried but how can someone who's past was so wonderful ever look forward at a life of misery and insanity. One day I will be normal.

   Two of them are gone. Two people who I actually love. They left me here. Yes every once in a while they visit. Those are the best times. I get to actually be considered part of a family. She doesn't come after me when theyre home but when they leave the house goes silent. I love silence. Not this silence. This eerie quietness means she is thinking. Thinking of even flaw I have compared to them. I hear that voice in complete hysteria crying out. "Why! Why me! I am a good mother! I don't deserve this!" she is right. Nobody deserves to have me as a burden.

       Run away. The thought rings through my head over and over again. I know I could but where would I run to. Family? No I've hurt them all. Friends? Nobody falls under this category. No. She would catch me and hate me even more.

Today I wont eat. Things will be better when I'm skinny. People tell me im thin. I know theyre lying. I can see myself in the mirror. I used to be skinny. When things were better. No today I won't eat but I get there and they are watching my every move. People know if I don't so there I sit stuffing my face with anything to satisfy there stares. I remember the day she found out I didn't eat. "how much do you weigh? You need help. Anorexic or something!" Deny. Deny. Deny. Deny everything or loose everything. I tried the whole puking thing. Standing at the top of our hill choking on my fingers and anything else I could shove down my throat. Nothing worked. I even failed at that. When I grow up I won't have to eat. Then I can be skinny. Actually skinny.

   I'm going home now. Praying no one will be there. Maybe I can be alone. There is the truck. I can feel my heart dropping into my gut, this won't be good. I'll just avoid her for as long as I can. Do my duties, go for a run and then sleep. My feet feel like lead being drug up the steps to the house. Not today please. I can't take it today. Her voice is coming from the kitchen and growing louder. No please no. "how was your day?" is this a trick. Another sick game. Stupid Ive taking to long to reply. "oh so now your not talking to me! I try so hard. Go out of my way to make you happy and this is how you thank me!" I mumble a short reply. "I'm sick of this. Your disgusting. " Her eyes drop in shame for me and she walks away shoulders slumped and head down low. It's a strange thing verbal beatings effect me so much more than any physical.

   My scratchy coat feels heavy on my shoulders. Tears sting my eyes threatening to pour over. What am I doing? I don't cry. Ever. The image of my dad passes through my mind and my face hardens over again.

title: Title: Just another day in my life.... Critique is welcome.

question: Why did the narrator stick her fingers down her throat?

answer: She tried to make herself throw up so she could lose weight.

question: Why did the narrator rip up the note from her father?

answer: She didn't believe he truly loved her.

question: What sort of relationship does the narrator have with her mother?

answer: Her mother seems to be emotionally abusive towards her.

question: What is the significance of the cold metal in the line "The cold metal pressing against my skin was the only thing that cleared my mind"?

answer: It is presumably some sort of blade that she is using the cut herself.