« February 2004 | Main | April 2004 »

Wednesday, March 31, 2004

THE GREAT EXPEDITION II, PART THE TWELTH: VILLAINS MET ON THE WAY TO BOARDMAN, PEACEFUL FIELDS FROM TAN TO SAGE TO TEAL, AT SECOND DAY'S END

AT THE HEART OF BOARDMAN: 6:05PM (PST); 4th of March, 2004 anno Domini

Somewhere along the way to Kissling, company mate Zero Medici relays
a private message to me:

"For your information, we got Fueltanker Cotton, Jack Dayton, and Swat
Greenstein tailing us... and they are not friendly."

Indeed they do not seem to be, for on they way down the steep cliffs of
Kissling, I am separated from my party. Dropping down the cliff face.

And as I fall into the shallow banks of the Kissling plateau, I get to my
feet, and realize that two heavily-armed midgets dressed in Germanic
soldier uniforms are standing there. Regarding me silently.

Waiting, as they have for a long while, throughout our trip, for the right
moment to strike.

As soon as they appear, however, they are gone, leaving me to ponder
what plans they have in mind for myself, and my company.

Screwing my courage to the sticking post, I head on to Boardman, another
placid "suburb", and meet my party there, besides another helium balloon.

Thus rejoined, we make for Tan, pausing to stop besides a glassy skyscraper
and a small air field.

And so on to the verdant hills of Sage, and turning then to Rose, whose center is marked by an empty field, amid massive structures on all sides. Then forward again, this time to Teal, where we are just in time to witness the beginning of another sunset. This will be the second setting, since we began our journey hours ago.

Two nights, and the end nowhere in sight. (Not the end, nor
even the beginning of the end.) Darkness begins to fall,
obscuring the route we must continue on.

Shrouding even further the black designs that the likes of
Mr. Fueltanker and Mr. Swat Greenstein have waiting for us,
in the journey ahead.

To be continued...

Posted at 11:07 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Tuesday, March 30, 2004

THE GREAT EXPEDITION II, PART THE ELEVENTH: FROM MINNA TO FREELON TO CLARA WITH A HEAVY HEART; TO PERRY UNDAUNTED AND TO KISSLING, ALARMED BY A STRANGE DISCOVERY

AT THE HEART OF MINNA: 5:25PM (PST); 4th of March, 2004 anno Domini

"To MINNA," says Lupis, in Natoma. "Westward bound."

"Go West, young man," Miss Pendari Lorentz agrees, "go West."

So into Minna we go, a ruddy, chaotic place, marked at its center by a home made to resemble the fine designs of that modern American builder, Mr. Frank Lloyd Wright. From there, we finally make our way to Freelon, another hilly land of implausible architecture, where a pyramid is nestled next to a castle, and nearby, a stone edifice which evokes the Baroque era. To gain a better vantage of it all, I attempt to ascend a grassy peak-- but only consign myself to much futile climbing and falling.

Only after a moment do I realize my party is standing there, watching me flail away at this fool task.

"He's knackered," Cailyn Miller observes.

And so, perhaps, I am. For in all truth, the length of this journey-- what has already been traveled, what remains to be traveled-- begins to weigh on me. Anything to relieve this walking, walking-- this damnable walking-- begins to seem like a thing to be welcomed. For all the wondrous sights and exquisite adventures we have encountered thus far, the burden of the trip ahead, and the duties of leadership, have become nigh impossible for me to bear. Who am I, I wonder now, to take on this task of my own free will? What was I thinking, I seethe to myself, to believe that crossing a continent that had grown twice in size since my last journey would therefore take but twice the time, to fully traverse? What, indeed, was I thinking?

No. Cease all doubt, and recrimination. Press on, man, regardless; press on, sir, though it try your soul.

Be a man, and press on.

Press on indeed to Perry, to stand on some uncompleted dock works above the water. Press on to Kissling, the high city at the peak of a steep plateau. Press on, up the sheer cliff wall, leaping and leaping, falling back down into the shallow waters, brushing oneself off, and pressing back up again, and then again, and perhaps, indeed, again.

Press on, until we have reached the summit, and stand at an intersection in the city of Kissling. Only to discover then that the city is, for all intents and purposes, no more. Where once stood a church, and a theater (peruse, please, June 24th's entry), and several storefronts, and much more besides, has been all but abandoned. Lost again to the whim of the residents, or perhaps to the high cost inherent in such an ideal location, or perhaps to the siren lure of new land in new regions; or perhaps, indeed, to a mix of all these factors.

What has transformed Kissling into a ghost city? Finding the answer to that mystery, alas, is not within the ken of myself or my party.

Somberly thinking on that, then, and mortality, and the fragility of all we create, we press on, yet again.

To be continued...

Posted at 07:52 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Monday, March 29, 2004

THE GREAT EXPEDITION II, PART THE TENTH: A DIVERSION TO DA BOOM, THEN TO RITCH AND THE GARDENS OF ZOE; FORWARD AND UP TO CLEMENTINA; DOWN TO NATOMA

AT THE HEART OF DA BOOM: 4:52PM (PST); 4th of March, 2004 anno Domini

"We are avoiding Perry," my cartographer Lupis informs me, "for the sake of the class."

"No sir!" I rage back. "We shall pass through Perry!"

The travel plan as initially conceived will require a quick diagonal traversal through a corner of Perry, so that we can make our next stop, at the heart of Freelon. But in several minutes, a scheduled class shall be taught in Perry, and Lupis fears the emergence of such a large party as ours into Perry, will cause the fabric of the region to tear asunder. But I shall accept no deviation of the course as already laid out.

"We avoid no place!" shouts Marker, in agreeance.

"But we will pick it up afterward," protests Lupis. "I changed the map, we shall hit all of the sims still. Perry is simply postponed."

"Lupis," I enthuse, "you are a genius!"

Therefore, onto Da Boom, passing a giant lizard that guards this jumble of stores and other strange edifices. Then pushing forward to the equally eccentric land of Ritch, and pressing along to Zeo, where park ranger Higbee Protagonist fosters the land with flora and fauna of all kinds.

"Do you like the beginnings of the wildflower press?" Protagonist calls down. And in truth, we do. And here we are joined by Cienna Rand, who cries, "I bring the gift of radio to our excursion!" For Miss Rand is an authoress on the phonograph, or "DJ", and as we continue the journey, the air is filled (for all who would listen) to soaring music-- all of which, per her clever design, contain the word "walk" within its lyrics. To wit, for example: "For I would walk ten thousand miles...", or "Walk like and Egyptian," and so on.

But the musical merriment is interrupted on the way to Clementina, when I realize:

"WE LOST OUR CARTOGRAPHER?!" For Lupis is nowhere to be seen in the world. (I had run on ahead of the party, and in the confusion, lost track of him, as well.) "We cannot lose Brad," I cry, "or we are all lost!"

"But i'm back," says Lupis, suddenly emerging before us, energetic lad with the fiery orange knapsack and the white socks pulled high, even to the thighs. And I breathe a sigh of relief, as he points us proper the way forward-- and up.

And so we go, up to the plateau in Clementina, where Governor Linden keeps his stream-lined mansion. And then down the mountain, leaping and falling, into the region of Natoma. ("Wagons east!", says fellow Brit Jsecure Hanks, as we drop, "deep breath!") We enter the cosmopolitan region of Natoma, which boasts domed gazebos, marble mansions, and the like. This land is so peopled and object-populated, again we slow the world and ourselves to a ponderous, dreamlike craw, while we make our way through it.

A Natoma resident called John Huber watches us go, in suchwise manner.

"Man," says he, "Who need drugs when you can gather a bunch of avatars for the same effect."

To be continued...

Posted at 07:56 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Friday, March 26, 2004

THE GREAT EXPEDITION II, PART THE NINTH: ONWARD TO MORRIS; HAPPY CAMPERS IN AHERN; RAISING CHAOS IN LUSK; GAME FOR RIZAL, BUT TROUBLE DETECTED IN TEHAMA!

AT THE HEART OF MORRIS: 4:24PM (PST); 4th of March, 2004 anno Domini

"Ah," says DC Lament, as he comes out to greet us near Morris, "The famous Hamlet." He joins us for a time, along with Alfa Rubio, a bare-chested ruffian of the American school.

On the way to the campground region of Ahern, DC Lament wonders aloud about our defenses: "Did you guys take my advice in Jessie? Go in with guns blazing."

"We haven't gotten to Jessie yet," my cartographer Lupis tells him.

And indeed, we yet have dozens of regions, oceans of time to cross, before we even come in sight of that violent land. Still, the danger that awaits us there has hung over our heads from the very first step.

"I have a Tommy gun," Pituca Chang announces readily.

"I have an M60 that really sprays," Lament informs us. "It's freely distributable, as well."

"I say we drop a bomb into Jessie," snorts Dionysus Starseeker, "then enter."

"We shall consider that tactic when we reach that land," I say. "Which should be, by my guess, around Midnight tomorrow!"

Some groans at that. Nevertheless, we continue through Ahern, and then into Lusk, a land that has been turned entirely into "suburbs", as the Americans call it.

Were the quiet residents of Lusk to peer from their windows, they would see an extraordinary sight, in this our caravan of one score adventurers, men and women of all condition and color, aliens, flying creatures, and so on, pushing through their peaceful hamlet like a band of Bedlam escapees.

"WAKE UP, HOME DWELLERS!" I shout, as we march down a well-paved road. "GREET US ADVENTURERS, FOR WE ARE THE MOST EXCITEMENT YOU SHALL SEE FOR A LONG WHILE IN THIS SUBURBAN LAND!"

"Power to the people!" party member Jim Buderfeld taunts. The residents of Lusk, however, merely cower in their homes. (Or are simply not home.)

We proceed then to Rizal, the "sports simulator", where all manner of spectacular athletic competitions are conducted, and then onward jauntily to Tehama-- a marvelous land modeled in part after the architecture of the Orient, with wooden homes and bridges painted a deep red, abutting a lovely park of fountains and lush grass.

From Rizal to Tehama, however, the first tangible sign of imminent danger emerges.

A small, dark fellow bearing a large machine gun flies before our company, and offers to exchange calling cards with me.

"Just seeing where you are," says the small man called Fueltanker Cotton. "Carry on."

"I smell a trap," says Pendari Lorentz, in great trepidation. But the fellow Cotton wings away.

Secretly following us, I suspect, from a short distance. Waiting, no doubt, for the right moment to strike.

To be continued...

Posted at 08:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBack

Thursday, March 25, 2004

THE GREAT EXPEDITION II, PART THE EIGHTH: THE SHORES OF LUNA, THE TRAGEDY OF CONEY, THE PROVING GROUNDS OF DARKWOOD, THE HILLS OF DORE AND BONIFACIO

AT THE HEART OF LUNA: 4:02PM (PST); 4th of March, 2004 anno Domini

We make brief stop at the shore of Luna's lake, where we are joined by Fred Noir. Then proceeding North to Coney, where I expect to see the amusement grounds that the Lindens had opened there, in the previous year.

Instead, when we reach its center, we find nought but open field.

"Long gone," says Pituca Chang with little sentimentality.

Such is the nature of the world of Second Life, where much is transitory, dependent upon the zeal of its residents. This zeal waning, projects are disassembled, visionaries and architects shoulder their belongings and move on to the next fertile ground... and enterprises of great pitch and moment, crumbling into obscurity, forgotten utterly.

No matter. Onward to Dark Wood, which has been made by its inhabitants to resemble a medieval village, and above which, looming on a hill, stands the castle that is the stage for Dark Life, where prospective adventurers try their hand at monster slaying. From there, we head on to Dore, and ascend a peak toward its middle, taking in the sight of a Nipponese temple, to our left, and a European castle, to our right. Such also is the nature of Second Life, which contains the multitudes of the world outside, here rarely encumbered by geographic distance or national borders, instead co-existing side by side, as if that were the perfectly natural state of things.

With that thought in my contemplation, Lupis and I lead our company to the forested hills of Bonifacio, and through the city beyond them. Ahead of us, Morris, the untamed land of the wild newbie herds. My party goes forward with vigor, but not without grousing:

"My feet are killin me," exclaims Zero Medici.

"And they smell bad, too," LexyCat Medici rejoins.

To be continued...

Posted at 08:28 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Wednesday, March 24, 2004

THE GREAT EXPEDITION II, PART THE SEVENTH: DAWN IN FORTUNA, UNDERWATER IN FAME, TANKS IN BALANCE; FROM THE PLAINS OF OAKGROVE TO THE PEAKS OF GIBSON

AT THE HEART OF FORTUNA: 3:35PM (PST); 4th of March, 2004 anno Domini

"Fortuna!" I crow. "Fortuna and glory!"

"Is anyone working out the whole distance?" the angelic Cailyn Miller wonders aloud. No answer comes readily, and I fear that no one has been keeping account of the length we've so far traveled. (Company note: And here we're joined by Rikoala Jack and Aries Twilight, and surely others that I have not been scrupulous to take note of, in my journal.)

"Next to the west," says Lupis, "to great Fame."

And yes, good reader, we go then to a land called Fame, where the sun has emerged in a scarlet gold that turns the region's lake into a sheet of newly-forged glass, just emerging from the furnace. And as the day establishes itself beyond all ambiguity, most of us trek into and under the deep water, treading West along its bottom to the land of Balance.

The taut cables of Cubey Terra's expeditionary balloon creak in the wind, as we come onto the plains of Balance. A tank is there to greet us, firing off thunderous shells, as we pass. And though this is a "no damage" region, and the cannon's shells cannot harm us here, it is still a reminder of the dangers to come, when we enter the geographies that do allow for instant death. (And the villains, who are quite prepared to effect it.)

I turn to Brad Lupis. "By your reckoning, cartographer, how far have we traveled thus far?"

Lupis calculates. "32 sims we have traversed."

"So," says Medici, "about one third done."

A chill and a silence runs through the party. For more than three hours have already passed, to accomplish but a fraction of the full journey.

"Oh yikes", Buttercup Perkins exclaims.

"We gonna be here till midnight!" Merwan Marker wails.

"WE MUST MAKE HASTE," I sing out, rallying my troops, "OR WE WILL BE WALKING UNTO THE NEXT DAY!"

"Even at this stage," says Baskerville, with characteristic British aplomb. "Can I ask for a cheer for Hamlet!"

A few cheers come, but by my lights, hardly enough enough to allay my concerns of imminent mutiny. Still, we trudge on to Oak Grove, a land made to resemble the Old West of American frontier, and then up, up, up, into the extreme region of Gibson, where a city of the future has been built amid high outcroppings and even higher plateaus. The party meets the challenge of this gaily, leaping up one formation, and the next, often falling down into the inlets below, then beginning again, interrupted by constant falls and slip-ups on the unforgiving sheer walls. And for a time, vaulting from butte to mesa to plateau, the sheer airborne madness of the undertaking makes us giddy with delight.

"For Philip!" cries Baskerville. "FOR ENGLAND AND HARRY!"

"Hoorah!"

It's almost enough to make us forget for awhile how much, much more we have to travel, and how low our odds of even completing the journey have already become.

Posted at 08:38 AM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack

Tuesday, March 23, 2004

THE GREAT EXPEDITION II, PART THE SIXTH: INTO CORDOVA BY FORCE, RACING INTO GEORGAN AND BRILLIANT; RACING THE COMING DAY, IN BETHEL

AT THE HEART OF ABBOTS: 3:13 PM (PST); 4th of March, 2004 anno Domini

All has become dark, as we trek beneath the raised airfield and the monorail system of Abbots. My party has gone on ahead of me, up and over the high ridge into Cordova, the "sandbox" region, where residents build fantastic objects at their whimsy. But as I reach the edge, to join them...

"I CANNOT PENETRATE TO CORDOVA!" I shout down into the valley.

For indeed, I cannot. The region has become so populous, and the objects within in so dense, Linden's very laws of nature now bar me from entrance.

I rage, I spew. "SOME MUST MOVE ON!"

I am shouting down the ridge, hoping my party can hear me.

One does: "GO TO MORRIS!" On the footfills beneath me, Bam Perkins yells ahead, relaying my message to the next member of the company ahead of him, and then to the advance party, still in Cordova. "TELL THEM!" Perkins hollers. For a moment, it seems as if the journey will end right here, confounded and undone by the natural forces of conservation.

Then all at once, I am free at last to enter Cordova; I go tumbling down, into its wondrous and strange sights. Sailing ships on land! Floating homes! Great statuary and stuffed animals!

Still, the stress has shaken the land utterly, and we seem to move in a slow, feverish dream. "OK," enjoins Fizik Baskerville, the fellow British adventurer who joined our party a few regions back, "LET'S GET OUT OF THE SANBOX!"

And so we do, at a ponderous gait, and finally into Georgan, just in time to catch the first intimations of sunrise; onward then to Brilliant, where sports-minded residents try their skills at racing various motor conveyance; then pressing on to Bethel, which serves a similar purpose, crossing the suspension bridge at its heart, striding toward a full moon that still vies with the coming dawn.

"We will soon have light," my cartographer Brad Lupis announces, with confidence, and so we shall.

Posted at 08:01 AM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack

Monday, March 22, 2004

THE GREAT EXPEDITION II, PART THE FIFTH: IN THE VALLEY OF ALBION, TO THE LAKE OF NOYO, TO A TREEHOUSE IN RODEO, A TEMPLE IN IMMACULATE, THENCE TO STINSON AND COWELL!

AT THE HEART OF ALBION: 2:18PM (PST); 4th of March, 2004 anno Domini

"Hello, Weary Travelers!" the fairy-winged philanthropist called Bhodi Silverman greets us, as we arrive over the mountains of Albion, into the valley below, at its center. "I trust your journey is going safely thus far?"

"No ruffians... yet," concedes Medici. "But I fear the worst is before us." All know he is speaking of the "damage-enabled" lands ahead, where our wits must be most sharp.

"Yes, so I've heard!" answers Miss Silverman. "I hope you're all well-armed?"

"Indeed," I acknowledge. "I expect many in this party will meet their death, in due time!" Miss Lorentz sniffs quietly. "But the adventure is in the walking!" I continue. "And death is but a slight delay!"

"Hamlet," says Bhodi, her wings glinting a furious jade, "I must say, you certainly are willing to risk the lives of others for a good story!"

Bloody humanitarian!

Regardless, she joins our company, as did the angel-winged Cailyn Miller, earlier, as do bognish Mars and the mysterious DuPlessis Guillaume, a dying man who floats along with the company for a time in a dust bin or a flying casket.

And so on to Noyo, where we reach a lake, in time see the beginnings of sunset, joined now by Siobhan Taylor, and greeted in Rodeo by one Salazar Jack.

"I just wanted to be here to welcome you when you came by," Jack tells us. "I have been following your progress." For advance word of the expedition has been growing, and natives are now emerging to wave to our caravan, as we pass. As fortune would have it, his rustic tree house is located near the center of Rodeo, so we briefly stop there, to record our arrival.

Onward to Immaculate, joined by Zoey Jade, up a ridge, where we pause to bid farewell to the last glints of sun from the vantage of an ancient temple, with night winds whistling through its crumbling pillars.

By the time we reach a rock formation in the heart of Stinson, evening has come, with the moon up full, though darkness obscures our path. With little light to see our surroundings, we press on Cowell, passing a stream, and colorful foliage, now ghostly in the lunar illume.

And with not more than three hours passed, less than a third of the journey has been complete. Far more remains, to journey.

Dangers await us, yes.

As do sights that few in the world have fully seen.

To be continued...

Posted at 11:12 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack

THE GREAT EXPEDITION II, PART THE FOURTH: DESCENDING IN DAVENPORT WHILST REACHING FOR THE FIRE!

AT THE HEART OF DAVENPORT: 2:07 PM (PST); 4th of March, 2004 anno Domini

"A fire ahead," Miss Fairchild murmurs. For ahead of us, at the center of Davenport, is a high mountain ridge, and at the peak of that ridge, is a giant signal fire, flickering in the distance. Between it and us, a sheer cliff drop, a deep river, and on the other side, a sheer cliff climb. These are the geologic obstacles that did not exist in my first expedition, across the continent of Second Life. And they are impediments that I did not plan for, when I expected with much blinkered insouciance that the world, being twice its former size, should only require twice the time to traverse. Not so, I fear now.

Not so at all.

"Oh well," my cartographer Lupis announces, "only one way to the center of the sim, JUMPPPPPP!!!" And the brash lad leaps into the canyon, followed soon after by Zero Medici.

"I REGRET NOTHING!" shouts Medici, on the way down.

So one by one the expedition party drops the yawning distance, plunging straight to the bottom of the deep waters. And once there, taking to the arduous climb up the cliff-- a painful process that requires unremitting leaps, from outcropping to outcropping. For if the mountaineer flags in his leaping but an instant, he will likely lose ground, falling backward, or running uncontrollably downward, oftimes to the very bottom of the cliff wall. Where he must, cursing all the while, begin again.

Regardless, after many attempts, we all ascend the peak, with enough vigor left for literary allusion.

"THE SIGNAL FIRE!" someone shouts. "GONDOR MUST RIDE TO THE AID OF ROHAN!" Guffaws follow.

"An excellent adventure so far," Medici says. "Imperial."

"Indeed!" agrees Miss Lorentz.

"The advance scouts have reached the next location," Miss Fairchild announces.

"Well," Cartographer Brad Lupis asks, "shall we continue to Albion, to the South West?"

"Back across the canyon, Brad?" asks Pendari Lorentz, with evident dread.

"Back across the canyon," Lupis replies.

To be continued...

Posted at 09:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Friday, March 19, 2004

THE GREAT EXPEDITION II, PART THE THIRD: THE WATERY REGIONS OF PALOMARIAN AND KELHAM, THE HILLY CLIMES OF MAVERICK, TO POMPONIO'S VIOLENT PEAK!

AT THE HEART OF PALOMARIAN: 1:32PM (PST); 4th of March, 2004 anno Domini

"I SEE THAT WE ARE A PARTY 30 STRONG NOW!" I crow, for indeed we are, the largest caravan the world has yet seen, and perhaps ever shall. And we proceed as one, along the watery shores of Palomarian, stopping at its center, which as luck would have it, stands near a picturesque foot bridge. From there it's onward to Kelham, an equally lake-swaddled region, at which point, Hikaru Yamamoto, our winged companion from Nippon, is forced to depart.

"Awww," says Lady Pendari, hugging the fantastic she-beast, "take care Hikaru."

Hikaru is replaced in our company by Sassy Apple, who joins us in Kelham, which is marked at its center by an island-borne home, and together, we all stride onward to Mavericks, where a lighthouse and a series of mountain pools are waiting for us, at its heart.

By the lighthouse, I must needs make a painful decision. Our party has grown so large, it has become an encumbrance to the very fabric of the world.

"I believe we must ask for volunteers," I tell the company, "for an advance party of ten. For our
numbers have become so great, we threaten to collapse the region, if we are all gathered together at once. Therefore, we need ten to scout the region ahead of the main party, following Brad's direction, and to move off to the next land, before the main party arrives!"

Volunteers step forward and are chosen, and after some confusion-- after much confusion-- an advance party of eight is assembled, and gathers onto Cubey Terra's expeditionary balloon. They will fly on ahead, for each region we approach, then depart to the next rendevouz point, before the main party's arrival. In this way, our company will not "lag" the world, so that our journey's speed is not reduced to a sleepy crawl.

"Alright," says Lupis, to the advance team, "onward and upward, and godspeed, Cubey."

Thus regrouped, we move in two teams to Pomponio, where rumor has it, an active volcano awaits us.

"HELP!" The rumors of a volcano are true, and spewing lava is soon splashing over the party! Worse, a young woman named Taylor Thompson has been lost within the crater. "HELP."

"Stay back Hamlet," says Alexis Fairchild, who has nominated herself my personal yojimbo.

Miss Thompson continues to cry for help. "Someone throw me a rope!"

"Terrifying sight!" I roar, and rush undaunted in, to save her.

"IT BURNS IT BURNS!" I am consumed by the lava, and slip for a moment beneath its fiery surface.

"We must sacrifice a virgin!" shouts Pituca Chang.

"ALL IS HELLFIRE DOWN HERE!" I say, entirely forgetting Miss Thomspon, concerned now only for my own survival. "I AM CONSUMED BY MAGMA THE HEAT OF THE SUN!"

"I must save him," says Fairchild, without much conviction.

"I'm staying by Brad," announces Miss Lorentz.

Lupis stands by the edge of the crater, watching my flailings for awhile.

"Alright," he says, "shall we continue to Davenport now?"

To be continued...

Posted at 11:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack