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      <title>NuTang.com | desertsnowstorm's weblog</title>
      <link>http://desertsnowstorm.nutang.com/</link>
      <description>A blog written by Robert Zimmerman.</description>
      <language>en-us</language>
      <generator>NuTang.com RSS Feeder</generator>
      <managingEditor>Robert Zimmerman</managingEditor>
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	     <title>For the Ghosts of Our Time (Tuesday. 24.07.07  10:48 am)</title>
	     <link>http://desertsnowstorm.nutang.com/comment_71247/</link>
	     <description><![CDATA[Now, it seems that we are here,
Just as it seemed in yesteryear.
In the night, it all comes clear.
Misstep, crumple by the mirror.
Our vision fades,
We see not the horrible shades.

We hear voices
And, swallowing hard,
The truth comes, bitter.
We have made their choices.
&Acirc;&laquo; Take comfort in the lost,
For we are their makers. &Acirc;&raquo;

We have proclaimed,
Without thought or name,
That some should die.
&Acirc;&laquo; Never look them in the eye. &Acirc;&raquo;
Whispers, you hear&acirc;€&brvbar;
The cries of those you damned, you fear.

Meet them half way, you say,
Follow them to the grave.
Don&acirc;€™t let them stray,
For you, too, will pay.
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	     <title>Narcosis (Thursday 7.14.06  11:40 pm)</title>
	     <link>http://desertsnowstorm.nutang.com/comment_53907/</link>
	     <description><![CDATA[I went scuba diving for a week with some friends, and it was quite fun. Since the greater majority of us weren't Open Water Certified, we opted to obtain said certification. We got an awesome instructor - and I mean awesome - he decided to get the actual training done incredibly fast so we could just dive for fun most of the time. It turns out that his &quot;fast method&quot; ended up getting us prepared for our exploration dives in three training ones and about five hours of bookwork. After that, I'm proud to say that I saw quite a few interesting fish, some rays, got lost, navigated my way back to shore, and wasted about 700 psi doing so (which was roughly a third of my already depleted tank's capacity). Thank god I know how to use a compass. :] Otherwise, well, I can see the headline now: &quot;Boy, 16, slain by bloodthristy kelp in recreational dive - goes unnoticed for 12 hours. Coast Guard, 'Oops. Our bad.' &quot;
Seriously, though, it was a damn good trip, what with being away from home for a week and actually spending time with my friends. The only problem is that I came home. The day after I got back, I was assaulted with carve-my-eyes-out-with-a-knife boredom... or was it of the jab-a-flaming-candlestick-through-my-brain boredom? I forget. At any rate. Crap. I need something to do.
Later, DS]]></description>
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	     <title>Maple Syrup - The Great Mystery (Thursday 6.22.06  10:53 pm)</title>
	     <link>http://desertsnowstorm.nutang.com/comment_53391/</link>
	     <description><![CDATA[Does it not strike anyone as slightly odd that someone just randomly decided to taste 

something that was leaking out of their tree? I mean, if you disregard the fact that it was 

probably Canadians, it just seems completely illogical. The stuff looks enough like regular 

sap that I'm beginning to wonder if someone just came along, looking for his/her next 

hardened, amber-y treat when he/she tried to take a chunk of maple sap, realized it was 

impossible, took a knee, and buried their face in the tree to lick up the syrup... Not a 

very pleasant image for anyone, I'd think. I'd say another acceptable theory, though, is 

that someone was playing a practical joke on another, probably in Canada again, who had 

never seen or tasted sap. Person A tells Person B, &quot;Hey, this stuff is really good, you 

should try some!&quot; Person B responds, &quot;Sure, what is it?&quot; &quot;Pine sap,&quot; snickers Person 

A. Person B proceeds to lick the tree and likes it, Person A is disgusted, eventually tries 

it, and later admits to having a good time doing it, plus he/she gets the credit for 

discovering it since the other person thought he'd tried it before.
Just thinking about this confuses me greatly... To me, it's kinda like whoever found 

water in a cactus first... if only because I wonder what in the world possessed the person 

to chop down a cactus in the first place. But, as I don't want to get into the clich&Atilde;&copy; 

analysis of the guy that discovered pot or tobacco or that you could milk cows or that 

seaweed (or is it algae) makes for the slippery goodness of toothpaste, and I shall just end 

my stream of conciousness here.
Later, DS
 ~ Always play for keeps! Then, when you lose, demand to have the rules explained again.]]></description>
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	     <title>On a Quiet Night (Sunday 6.11.06  8:36 pm)</title>
	     <link>http://desertsnowstorm.nutang.com/comment_53214/</link>
	     <description><![CDATA[Oh yeah, I'm pretty bored over here. I never update, not because I have suddenly sprung 

into some incredibly interesting life to which no other could compare, but because I really 

do nothing worthy of mention, as most people probably do exactly what I do themselves.
Now that that's out of the way, I'll make some whimiscal story up for y'all for stopping 

by.
It all began not too long ago, I was just sitting down on a street corner, the dark of 

the early morning weighing unusually heavily on my brow, and the mist rolling over the hills 

already plastering my bodiless hair to my forehead. And when I say plastering... Man, I mean 

plastering. I tugged for several minutes, trying to pry it free from my forehead to 

no avail. Of course, I keep a grinding wheel around for occassions of the sort, so I did not 

fear. I carefully removed it from my pocket and let it down with a thud on the pavement. It 

grinded, my head started to hurt, and, after a while, it broke. Unfortunately, my hair had 

not budged and it rather felt like I had grinded the greater portion of the skin on my face 

off. I took out my incredibly masculine Hello Kitty powderbox and mirror, and, to my 

complete indifference, I looked like a poorly preserved skeleton.
At that point, I realized that nothing short of a diamond blade saw could sever my hair's 

hold on me, so I asked a nearby orphan if I could borrow hers. She was not too willing to 

just lend it to me, and seemed rather afraid when she looked up into my eyes, so I traded 

her a roll of duct tape and a rubber duckie for fifteen minutes with it. So, one hour and 

several jars of pickled pigs' ears, assorted chew toys, trolls' undergarments, and cans of 

Lysol later, I had separated the beast that was my hair and my skull. She took her saw back, 

stared at me one last time, turned, and ran. The jerk.
But I felt so free again, and the sun was beginning to peek over the horizon as I started 

downtown. I never knew the morning held so many surprises, because nearly every person I saw 

was running away from something... and I could never seem to find out what it was. Randy the 

bum, my one true friend, and the only person who didn't run away could offer very little 

insight into the matter. He simply emptied his stomach at the sight of me (and his bowels, 

if I had to judge by the smell) and said, &quot;You've got something on your face,&quot; then went 

back to taking long dregs of moonshine.
Cheered by his comradery, I continued towards the city square and went to Walgreens. I 

spent some time selecting a snack, and finally settled on coffee, ('cause, hey, if you can 

drink it, why not eat it?) and went to the counter to pay for my delicious, ground treat. 

When I put my money on the counter to pay for it, though, the cashier looked up and 

screamed. After a mild fit of hysteria and several rather regularly intervaled seizures, she 

regained control of herself and reached out a finger to touch my face. She must've picked 

the only place on my face with a vein intact because, with the sheer amount of blood that 

spurted out at her and on her and around her, I'm sure it was the sole path for blood in my 

body. She screamed again, even though I found the situation rather funny... and then I got 

light-headed, and died.
The coffee was great by the way.
Later, DS
 ~ You know what's a funny word? Tatterdemalion.]]></description>
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	     <title>Going Missing (Saturday 2.4.06  12:55 pm)</title>
	     <link>http://desertsnowstorm.nutang.com/comment_51356/</link>
	     <description><![CDATA[Ah, quoi de nouveau all y'all? I've been having an interesting time, to say the least. Rock climbing, sleeping, hauling around TVs, sleeping, making pancakes, sleeping, taking history notes, etcetera etcetera... and, y'know, that really doesn't sound that interesting once I type it. Oh poo.
Well, let's see. As to not totally bore the greater population of readers, I shall start with the amusing story of Planet Granite, which is, for all you who don't know, an indoor climbing gym. I went with Jessica, Elizabeth, and Jason, although Jason had his own special ride that kept him from traveling with the likes of us. Anyway, Jessica, Elizabeth, and I got there and went up to pay the climbing fee and all of a sudden I realize - hey, I don't have my rock climbing stuff. I apparently realized this out loud so I had quite a few people turn and stare at me. But anyway, I decided I could just rent stuff and went up to the counter but... apparently, they purge people from their database if they haven't climbed for, well, three years or so. And you need a signed waiver to get back in. Telling you how I got a signed waiver and copy of a driver's licence would be a story in its own, so I won't. But after a while, I rented a harness, shoes, and paid the fee, and went into the lockerroom. Only to discover a guy making out with another guy that was wearing naught but a towel... which made it rather... diconcerting to change. But I eventually toted everything away in a locker and met us with Elizabeth and Jessica outside who had actually just seen Jason and were sort of eyeing him from afar, but only because he'd walked in with a Mills teacher (who he later embarassedly admitted was his mother). She was kinda scary. After that lovely little encounter, though, pretty much all we did was climb, which is by no means a very interesting recountance, as no one was in mortal peril or anything. Jessica and Elizabeth had to leave early, though, so it was just Jason and I when we left. We were going to take the bus together, but, unfortunately, his mom told him he had to be picked up since seven o'clock is apparently really late all of a sudden. I waited with him for a while, then went over the the bus stop. A record three car accidents happened in the 45 minute-ish period I was sitting at that infernal stop, which was pretty cool. There was a turn lane that didn't continue on the other side of a three way intersection and a whole bunch of people that didn't realize it, each of whom had to merge into the other lane really quickly and another car, accordingly. But the bus coming is pretty much the end of my story, which I suppose was rather boring. I should really talk about the really hobo-looking guy on the bus, but I don't really feel like continuing this.
 Later, DS]]></description>
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