Well, not much of a protest in DC today. I followed the DC IMC Breaking News like a combination of a rip-and-read newswire and a soap opera where no one's getting any. Other than my bountiful garden, not too much else to report up here. No more bites in the job hunt ... though I have scheduled an appointment with a career counselor. Dealing with combinations of regret, despair, and shame while going through some painful soul digging this week. Came out better at the end with some more hope and ... well, at the very least, a better appetite. What's news with you? SET
Just working hard, and digging it, down at the upscale Chevy Chase Moto Photo Lab, and having finished up my first case as a process server, waiting with snot up my nostrils to get that first check from the District payola system for that godawful experience.
A couple hours later, he'd need to reassure himself again with another call that I was going to actually do whatever it was I'd said repeatedly that I'd do, and so forth. Needless to say, his micro-management style quickly became tedious.
I don't believe I've mentioned this latter gig to you, but I landed it by way of Len Bracken the same weekend that I was hired at the photo shop to start the first week after Labor Day. Fortunately the three subpoenas were being served to so-called co-operative witnessesan attorney, a detective, and a court clerk; and though the two of the three who weren't exactly "cooperative" each was effectively served through certain and uncertain channels, and each showed up for court. While my boss, John Moran, the investigative attorney hired by the Court, assured me that my imposing presence on the senses in the more sticky of the cases helped get across the message, I somehow feel that I did not really execute the plays as they were called, and those failed efforts didn't amount to much more than wasting gasoline, my preferred off time from the photo lab, and a snarling chunk of the taxpayers money.
The attorney who'd hired me is a somewhat likeable chap in short doses, but he also quibbled and quaffed to such a degree as to make him the worst experience in the whole affair, heavy-handed and wishy washy, always changing his rather relentless mind, requiring constant confirmation of the simplest matters. Hmm, sort of reminds me of..
We'd talk things out rather thoroughly over the phone, hang up, then five minutes later he'd call back to shift directions, or perhaps instruct me on exactly which route to drive out there to save myself aggravation, even though I had tried to convince him that I was quite handy with a map, the Internet, and was primed with a first hand knowledge of the city from my surveying years. A couple hours later, he'd need to reassure himself again with another call that I was going to actually do whatever it was I'd said repeatedly that I'd do, and so forth. Needless to say, his micro-management style quickly became tedious.
After all, I just turned 47. Feeling like 67 is a god-damned sin, a floundering fillibuster, and from where I hang my cap, absolutely no fun.
I may very well complete an online private investigation correspondence course I'm considering, just to get the groove down pat, but frankly I don't figure I'm much longer for this rather rank shark-infested pool...
The photo lab, meanwhile, according to the Maps On Us folks is 1.2 miles, or nine blocks, straight up Connecticut Avenue from my cockpit. I almost always hike the distance both ways, and since our lovely but smiting weather has only receded from the daily nineties to the daily mid-eighties, I have shed a few unworthy pounds in the process. To boot I have just joined Gold's Gym which is three blocks blind in the other direction, open from 5 AM to 11 PM on weekdays with only slightly slimmer hours on the weekend. I have yet to make my first appearance on the money so to speak, after locking in a special price of forty dollars per month for life, rather than the nearly sixty they wanted a year ago (also losing the usually hefty sign-up fee), yet I am slowly but diligently stalking the proverbial track upon which I will zestfully reorder my senses, distill a few angry molecules, and in some sort of coup de grace, hopefully rebuff the usual critics, to paraphrase an often-paraphrased young Rimbaud. After all, I just turned 47. Feeling like 67 is a god-damned sin, a floundering fillibuster, and from where I hang my cap, absolutely no fun.
Get dizzy in the dirt, though, you deserve it. Gardening was such a pleasure for me as well...
Hey Steveup for a visit? If so, do you know a route from DC to Philly which bypasses the toll road? I need a breather from this terror on TV, death in DC, and my own killer daily bread. With a nod to all those former glories we shared, I thought of you. I'll bring the recent Dylan release.
This window of opportunity will expire soon. If I don't hear from you today, for whatever reason, real or imagined, I'll count on nothing. Could this really be the end, stuck inside of DC with the Philly blues againas the four horsemen of an prima facie first blush apocalypse, the blue light special of tomorrow's plush sweaters, the four nineties of some square conspiring to compete with the circles we pick up in the streets and avenues, Steve, Len, Tim, and Gabriel pledging allegiance to the sounds of our own thumping hearts for which we cannot stand idly by...
Half deaf but playing it by ear,
P.S. By the way, Bracken sent me his "screenplay". Seems I have a single speech towards the end, which of course fits in my mouth, but still I hesitate involving myself in this project since I despise laziness, especially that which lurks in MYSELF, so why should I allow Mr. Radical to exploit me for those questionable aims of his, just for the vanity of some screen time? What do you think? Have you read it? Would you like to have my lines?
Hey great! C'mon up...Don't know any toll-less routes offhand...just know the standard 95 route...would require some blue-highway meandering...but don't let that stop you! We've got Koreans in town today, so I might not have much of a chance to get to a phone...in any event, could you remind me of your phone# (gotta catch a bus, an egg-and-cheese sandwich, and a coffee, in that order)? Mine at work is 215.790.xxxx (feel free to leave a message if I'm not in.) After work and the obligatory Korean dinner tonight, I have no plans for the weekend.
Spacehey man, wish I knew why it is you have written me off. You've ignored my phonecalls and quit responding to my email September a year ago. Being of paranoid mind and body I would have thought that perhaps that little BBM resignation crisis in some unintended twisted way sealed the vault, or even that Steve Taylor on the ride back to Philly might have said something to you to blacken my rep, but we, you and I, actually traded a couple more friendly notes after your flight back to Seattle right up to the time when I scooted for vacation, and while away, had my Internet pipeline severed which signalled a very hellish year where my ISP and Bell Atlantic were screwing me at every turn through absolutely no fault of my own, which translated means I had no two weeks of solid uninterrupted service for over a year due to a long series of unrelated, complicated and ridiculous snafus on their end.
But upon my return after a week in South Carolina visiting family, from you, nothing, nada, kaput. What gives? Did your computer get fried? This note is merely a dove looking for a twig. Perhaps you still have the same AOL address, perhaps you do not.
I'd just been sorting through some of the emails we shared back in 1995 with great fondness when whammo, the Seattle riots break into the news. I've been hosting on my computers a listserve of highly opinionated, aptly educated folks of various stripe scattered across the globe who have made it their business to rage against the capitalist machine, and I'd been talking your name up when this WTO thing exploded into our consciousness, and thus I grew doubly anxious to reunite with my old friend.
Please. Let's end this lockout, Space. Sock it to me if you must, but let me hear from you. This past year has been awful for me. I watched only pieces of a mere handful of baseball games, three, maybe four until the playoffs and Yankees, but finally in October my ISP and the telephone company finally delivered on a relatively inexpensive, somewhat fast fulltime connection, and yep, it's been stable, finally some relief from these 21 hour days monitoring my damned service. You wouldn't believe how cramped and crimped my life had become. And looking back, despite all my stress and imagined immobility, perspiration and stagnation, a lot has been accomplished, even if not as much as I would have hoped.
Meanwhile my neighborhood has become a warzone of drug dealers and self-confessed whitey haters. Blumstein has sold out, and lemme tell you, THAT is one long greasy story, but life is not ever as simple as it seems. You've missed out on some of my best writing, and I know I have missed out on yours. Can't we fix this?
Date: Fri Aug 21, 1998 8:57:58 PM America/New_York
Spacecan't possibly think of anything you could bring, but C Level enthusiasm. I have pretty much have everything I need in spades...uh, except help on all these damned projects I've got going, but enough of that. Steve is pulling his usual silent treatment. Two days of dead air once I mailed him your confirmation afterhe was posting daily inquiries about the game tickets and your plans. As soon as the whole world is confirmed, he goes off into his world of silence until the very last minute when he's ready to move. He does this EVERY SINGLE TIME we try to make plans. Without fail. It's uncanny. Once upon a time it was interesting to observe his operations, but now it's simply a nuisance of his friendship (remember that note you wrote three or four years ago lamenting the English language void of words describing the different tiers of acquaintences one has where using the word friend seems an abuse of clarity? I do, and have pondered the essence of your brilliant query many times before and since, acknowledging the truth of it.)
Steve is an enigma to himself, not because he is inexplicably mysterious or undeserving of the best of anything he or anybody else has to offer, but merely because he cannot seem to pull himself together to commit to anything or anyone for more than a wisp of time. Any commitment is a death trap for him. He's gotten a bit better on the personal level, but his disappearing routine will pop up occasionally when he's out on the town, and is always present when it comes to nailing down plans. I'm only slightly exaggerating when I say it wouldn't surprise me in the least that we discover sometime in the eighth inning at the Yards that Steve had left his seat during the seventh inning stretch and shot for home. He does THAT kind of shit almost by rote, although I remarked to him a few months ago that he seemed to have chilled on that behavior somewhat.
The most casual get together is always marred by this refusal to commit to anything save an active extension of his desire to do nothing but play, to remain rudderless, engineless, mendaciously debonair on his own callous terms. God, he drives me crazy. But, he is my friend, even best friend by virtue of our close proximities these past three years...
Not that his commitment for next week is that critical in this situation EXCEPT that he be gone somewhere else by Sunday afternoon. But I did want the three of us to get comfy with each other, but he may have other plans. Dunno. He has said two or three times now that he's hip to the game, but Steve always like to change the rules, so I'm just gonna let this thing unfold as he likes it. I've told him that he should come early, say Thursday, if he needs a longer visit, but that I wanted him gone after Sunday brunch so that Sue and I could gear down properly for the following week.
Like I told you on the phone, he's heard and read this speech dozens, yes, dozens of times from me, but he always presses for an extra day, or whatever, in that cavalier manner of his, and I quietly acquiesce, but not so this coming visit. His ongoing insanity at my expense must come to an end. The most casual get together is always marred by this refusal to commit to anything save an active extension of his desire to do nothing but play, to remain rudderless, engineless, mendaciously debonair on his own callous terms. God, he drives me crazy. But, he is my friend, even best friend by virtue of our close proximities these past three years...
I do hope you get to meet him. Although it is rare for Steve to simply blow off a semi-solid plan completely, it would not surprise me if something suddenly came up to shut down his DC visit. He's a jealous god and may not want to compete for air time with someone else he might or might not awe. God, he drives me crazy.
Sorry about all this interpersonal stuff about somebody you only know as the manager of the Rhubarbs, a true baseball rookie (having NEVER played or followed the game until this year), a rookie, that is, who bounced our Walter Johnson cognizant asses right out of the ballpark. He's a genuinely good fellow, but his self-image has taken a few hits lately, and that's not settling well with him as he gets older and performs less, and yet still sees himself as the next great CEO of whatever will satisfy his Paul Bunyan ego somewhere down the line. Man, he drives me crazy. Man alive. Do I ever look forward to your visit!
Steve, search AltaVista with the keyword SCENEWASH. Man a monopoly, but it shouldn't last forever. I don't recall ever signing SWORG with AltaVista or any search engines for that matter, since I had no active content there, but oooowwwweeee, what a presence!
How are you "set" for a fall classic in the City of Brotherly Glove in the last weekend AFTER Halloween with two or more proles from the City of Neverending Elections? Depends on how things shape up around here with bookcases and client bases, but we might be settled enough by then to take a slow drive to the north country. Some ten dollars in tolls is enough to make this a rare visit, as I'm sure you're aware, but of course as a native son of Philadelphia you are bound by cleverness to find a way around the tolls given enough time to wander the backroads. I haven't discussed this with the Bug, but surely we'll jump at the chance to eat in a unfamiliar restaurant where all the snappy waitresses fire off salty checkerboarded accents and the center of attention melts in the center of town, not in our hands.
Meanwhile I'm still frying in the pan as I hit pocket after pocket of web cramp and creativity null in my struggle to reinstate my SCENEWASH infrastructure, formerly of iMote (where that picture of us on the Perquacky Deck resides somewhere in the Literary Chip stack, oh yes, the Misguided Tour of the Literary Chip, don't ask me again, use your bookmarks silly, if'n you can't find your way back through the breadcrumbs of your mind).
Postscript: The Misguided Tour never really got off the ground, tethered as it was to hard work in a busy, infrastructure laying era where failed cooperation was hardly a minor bump or soft shoulder in the road but was a major pothole which grounded smart aleck motorcycle kings faster than the DC Department of Public Works on a sudden 20" snow day. Building this monstrosity of self-indulegence, whether it has any passing artistic value or not, has taken time, but in the end I can attest to its worth to me is immeasurable. Others have moved on with their lives, but here sits I, Gabriel, doing what I said I wanted to do, for better, for worse, these are the days of my lives...dated 10/25/13.
Originally published Aug 19, 1997. Italics Steve Taylor, plain text mine.
Damn. I just clicked on an iMote page, and it is all twisted. Wrong graphics in the wrong places, and another graphic skewed. Gotta go investigate. Maybe Bob's right. My life ain't life. Maybe he'll let me join in his weekly WWII strategy board game, or watch his stockpile of Japanese anime videos. Now that's life. I know I'm just being petty here, but it really burns the bone that among friends and neighbors every choice one makes is shit, and Bob has always done that to me. My poetry is bad. My writing makes no sense. My web work is not life. Even after all the GT vs. SET fires belching in the belly, and that most recent flamewar certainly left scars, I can at least say that you have always encouraged me in my struggle to express my loneliness and insights through writing and creative images and with the technical additions of web producing, you've been my only true visitor. I don't know what that says about you, but thanks anyway. And again, congratulations on your new aspirations. You are indeed cock of the walk when it comes to nailing job interviews.
You are quite welcome. And thanks for letting me know. It does mean much to me to have some positive impact out thereand it is nice to keep in contact from here in the PA void. I'm glad that I now have had time to read, write (a bit, anyway), surf, relax...and actually think about what works, what matters, what the hell...I kept busy and manic enough in DC to keep myself from realizing how unhappy I wasAOL caught me on the downside for a while, so I just kept fighting at Howrey, thinking that I could make well-enough work into something great. Hah! Oh well, looking back on the last few jobs I hadones for which I've been envied by more than one person, I see that I was fooling myself to ever accept them. I had forgotten that I could do more than be a lackey for underskilled, Peter Principle poster children who didn't care about the product but had just chosen a career and insisted on sticking with it without truly caring about what they were doing.
They simply become too easy too soon and don’t allow room for the type of growth and development that we need to keep breathing. iMote and Scenewash (and others projects of past and future) can give you that. I’m hoping that I will end up webmastering Fox Chase Cancer Center, and that the job will have enough challenges to keep me interested, honest, and sane. For now I wait for the call from Philly. Right now, I mow the lawn.
But each time I made the mistake of falling into jobs when I needed the money and was able to rationalize my way into accepting what I knew would wear out soon. Then I was able to add something to the job to make it seemingly great for a while. Then they didn't want a star, just a good team player. Well, I can be a good team player, but when I'm being asked to wash the uniforms and the team truly needs me in another position...enough sports metaphors...As I'm feeling some of that DC-bound bitterness resurfacing, let me bend this back to a less combative reality: I made some terrible judgement calls. But at the time, there weren't any better options I could have seen. I was too blinded by my defense mechanisms. And, even with the confidence I was often able to exude, for a period of time there, I didn't truly believe in myself and my abilities to do anything and do it damned well. I know that I can put together any web site, any magazine, any promotional campaign or technical budget. I just might have to work at it.
And that's what these McTech/McMedia jobs I've had have not given me (and would not give you or anyone else with vision and drive). They simply become too easy too soon and don't allow room for the type of growth and development that we need to keep breathing. iMote and Scenewash (and others projects of past and future) can give you that. I'm hoping that I will end up webmastering Fox Chase Cancer Center, and that the job will have enough challenges to keep me interested, honest, and sane. For now I wait for the call from Philly. Right now, I mow the lawn.
But now, I've gotta attend to those pesky HTML brats. Keep it clean, and the dirt will follow anyway. Busy with beaver and loaded for bear...strange how those epiphrases just jot themselves down along with the mustard and relish of a personality mirage. Lynn has not responded, although I certainly had no idea the phrase was anything but a toss-off. Tell me how it goes. I presume, it's like the "playing it by ear" and "that's my story and I'm stickin' to it" SET tune of the month. I can hear it already reverberating off the whispering pines of friendly Pennsylvanian platitudinal grace. Look forward to the update, but frankly, I think you and I are the only ones who "get" most of our poetic hucksterism. Occasionally Bob in good mood is generous with a Boblike compliment with adjectives like hip, post-modern, whacky, subterranean sprinkled in to authenticate a true Bob true grit compliment, and they certainly have increased over the years, but like Bracken, most often he's just a little quick to dismiss and a little slow to hammer out the dots, plumb the heights, and probe the depths but like all of us, prefers to hear his own voice than those of his neighbors.
Those imps of HTML will need some reintroducing to meit's been a while since I've actually dug into code. Gotta go back to the basics a bitsave that source, localize those graphics, and start
playing with other folks' designs. Tables, frames, imagemaps, CSS...it'll take me a while, but I'll get back there.
Dear Macstopcongratulations on your fresh startup. I would very much like to be considered for a news scout position on your staff, having read your notice on the Evangelist this morning. First, a few things about me, my wife, and my dog:
We have been Macsurvivalists since 1987, when my wife and I purchased our first Macintosh SE a few months after she had talked her small lobbying firm into revolutionizing the typewriter set by jumping onto the Mac bandwagon. She is the network administrator as well as the financial manager of the small office of about thirty Macs. What I don't know about the user end of the Macintosh, either she does, or within a few hours we both know what we didn't know yesterday. The Macintosh has been a fun ride.
As a freelance writer and graphics specialist for the past five years, my clients have ranged from a construction company to a bi-weekly newspaper, a horse association to a lobbying firm. Toss in a book publisher and the tall orders of small fries off the street, well, let's just say I've pretty much covered the Mac beat in all its glorious detail. My small home office (SOHO), with gleaming emphasis on the home part of the acronym, now consists of an 8500/120, a Performa 6400/200, and an old maxed-out Mac IIx with 32 megs of RAM and a Daystar turbo card kicking that bad baby up to the 68040 level, all connected to an ethernet hub for the lightening fast transfers poor LocaTalk just can't match. This new hot connection was a fantastic boon to my senses. "Wow! How fast can that firewire get!"
I've promised to loan it to a computerless, ex-DOS man, an old E-mail friend presently living in that other Washington, in the backwaters of Seattle. His 286 died a horrible death two years ago, and you know how it is, nobody writes, telephoning is such a bore, but since his machine died, that thrice a week E-mail habit has vanished along with him. He is flying east to visit his mom and old pals sometime this spring. I will drive to Philly where his mother lives just to loan him the "little" Mac, which of course he should be able to carry onto the plane with him for the flight back to the Pacific.
We hubbed it all together just last weekend, in preparation for converting the Mac IIx to a full fledged web server over a dedicated 28.8 or ISDN line. Of course I prefer the latter solution. The low bandwidth 28.8 modem approach is working for a lot of people these days running small businesses and personal sites, but we like the best, and the best today is a 2B 128K home ISDN connection for someone who is just a few hairs shy of wanting to operate his own ISP. And to think I've only been surfing the web for just over fifteen months. Well, yes, I still have my original AOL account, signing on way back in 1992 when they boasted a mere 250,000 subscribers, but hey, let's not blow that horn today.
Last year's prices for ISDN access locally, are no doubt rolling over in their graves as they squint at current market numbers. Alas, my own household pockets are still a mite shallow, so I still have to hold my horses, as my wife the horselover is always telling me. Oh yeah there's that Mac Classic II sitting on the floor with the ethernet hub sitting on top, just waiting to be used as a POP3 server, or some other equally slick job description, but for now I've promised to loan it to a computerless, ex-DOS man, an old E-mail friend presently living in that other Washington, in the backwaters of Seattle. His 286 died a horrible death two years ago, and you know how it is, nobody writes, telephoning is such a bore, but since his machine died, that thrice a week E-mail habit has vanished along with him. He is flying east to visit his mom and old pals sometime this spring. I will drive to Philly where his mother lives just to loan him the "little" Mac, which of course he should be able to carry onto the plane with him for the flight back to the Pacific. But I'll demand my machine back once he is able to save up enough money to buy a modern screamer as I'm sure it won't die on him like his last machine did. Meanwhile he wants to join AOL. We've loaded and test-driven AOL 2.7 on the little charmer. Amazing! With a 28.8 modem, while the AOL's graphic-intensive interface, of course, doesn't show up in color, it looks terrific and serves up rather quickly. It'll be great to get Kenny back in the saddle!
P.S. Oh by the way, like my friend's old PC, my dog of thirteen years just died. Too bad he wasn't a Mac...
As a Macintosh-inclined Netsharker (my term, has anyone trademarked it yet?), I love the feeding frenzy of the Internet as my daily ingestion of Mac-oriented newsgroups and listservs attest. With thirty-five megs of systems extensions loading into my world with every reboot, there is no doubt in my mind that I can be an asset to your staff and a beacon to the world. Hosted on a virtual server, my homepage is located at:
although currently being given a fresh makeover, so potholes are everywhere. In closing, while literature and philosophical treatises are my first delusions of grandeur in a world full of mud, I must now proclaim in loud bold italics, "Literary pretensions of my youth, move aside. Philosophy might be an oyster on the halfshell, but everybody's got a philosophy. Not everybody's got a Macintosh running the best OS the world has ever known."
Bottom line? I want to be a Macstop reporter! Somebody with my kind of enthusiasm just might make the difference. For further information please contact me,
P.S. Oh by the way, like my friend's old PC, my dog of thirteen years just died. Too bad he wasn't a Mac...
Date: Thu, 20 Mar 97 17:38:50 -0500
Gabriel, I enjoyed the letter you sent me. It sounds like you have quite a bit of Macintosh experience. We'd be very interested in having you as a news scout. Although we can't compensate right now, we are confident that if our best news writers stick with us, they will reap the benefits later. Is there any chance you could write news reports daily? Please reply with what type of capacity you'd like to work in. Thanks.
Best of Regards,
Ben Wilson, Editor In Chief/Publisher
Macintosh Roadstop (http://www.macstop.com)
With my roots thigh deep into the Charles Bukowski and Hunter S. Thompson gonzo approach to minding my own business, I think we might very well develop a beautiful relationship here. A report a day? Mmmmm...reminds me of Bill Burroughs, hey, reminds me of myself, but let's figure it this way: I wake up every day with an urge to do something Macintosh.
Okay Ben...I can read the signs on the goalpost. This ain't no MacWorld, or EvangeList, YET. But considering I'm working from one scent to the next, I'll accept your proposal for a tour of duty with Roadstop. You're looking for a daily report? Mmmm, on what pray tell? I've been told I'm an opinionmaker. Does that make me just another Mac Evangelist? Do I get a personal column or am I devoted a "news" inches status? What is news, if I scarf it up from online sources? Credentials? I have no inroads with the bigboys, except as a "rabid devourer" of many newsgroups. Frankly, I'm afraid since you are the editor-in-chief, you must offer me a twig or two to grasp.
At this point, I'm hip to YOUR needs, but I need to know what those needs are. Since this is an uncompensated position, as you point out, at this time, I want to make sure that I'm not running myself silly creating for someone else while I am neglecting my own domain. Like that last philosopher put it, "Hell I can pay myself nothing, and still do twice as much for myself as I can for somebody else who barely knows me from that stump over there."
Bottom line? I'll pitch your cause. Just dictate a few parameters. With my roots thigh deep into the Charles Bukowski and Hunter S. Thompson gonzo approach to minding my own business, I think we might very well develop a beautiful relationship here. A report a day? Mmmmm...reminds me of Bill Burroughs, hey, reminds me of myself, but let's figure it this way: I wake up every day with an urge to do something Macintosh. As far as I've been able to discern from our two encounters (let's not forget the Evangelist), all I need to do is write an undeveloped number of Macintosh-driven paragraphs in an E-mail to you. Well, sure, I can handle one more E-mail a day especially since I'll be getting a byline and helping a bunch of swell folks get ahead in the world of Macintosh web publishing. Say when...
Regards not retreads,
Date: Thu, 20 Mar 97 20:34:12
Gabriel, you are obviously an excellent writer and communicator. I'm glad you can write daily. To simply request press releases from companies is an excellent way to get news. Lurking around in newsgroups also helps.
Although we may not be a huge publication yet, we are trying to build a publication that will be viable (and hopefully profitable) in the near future. Thus we are looking for good writers who are willing to stick it out with us. Growing is tough, but we'll get there sooner or later. You can send news reports in a simple e-mail message. I'll try to drop you a lead whenever possible. Right now I'm writing most of the news for the site, so I'm a bit lagged.
It's hard to be the main writer of, edit, advertise, hold correspondence, etc. for a a site that I'm not even getting paid for. All of the profits go directly to expanding, improving, and saving for the site so it can pat off later. Fortunately, I have a very helpful assistant who lives in New Zealand that edits a lot of the articles that are submitted. It helps out a lot. I hope we can both be beneficial from this. Believe me, I'm not in this to be a money grubber. I'd give money to the volunteers before I myself pocketed a single penny.
I hope to hear from you soon!
Best of Regards,
"Ignorance and virtue suck on the same straw. Souls grow on bones, but die beneath bankers' hours.""