It is what it is

Some bright spots

Her: What do you mean, “You’re good at it?” How is one good at dating?
Me: There’re steps to dating: Meeting someone, building enough comfort with them that they’ll meet you again, and then want to see you again. Etc. I think I’m pretty good at each step.
Her: (dismissively) You mean like everyone in NY.
Me: If you say so, darling.

It’s been a rough week. Been in my head a ton, which is why I’ve been trying to go the gym as much as possible, despite my injuries.

RE Mike sent me an invite to yet another one of his ridonk parties and I was going to go but I feel like I’m being too social these days instead of focusing on the boy.

Plus, it’s a lot more exhausting than it was back in the day. Besides, the last one left a decidedly bad taste in my mouth for a variety of reasons, unrelated to him.

Man, RE Mike never slows down. Dunno how he does it.

As for me, heading to the gym instead was the right choice, despite my injuries. Been really careful with whom I decide to work with so I’ve managed not to make anything worse.

But I think it’s more the emotional turmoil that’s keeping me up. Well, no less than the whiplash and messed up knee and wrists.

Note to self: Slamming sticks together several times a week with an injured wrist is probably not a good idea.

Maybe that’s why I’m not that guy anymore. It was never easy to cut someone loose, but it’s even harder now.

But there are some bright spots here and there, with some old and dear friends.

Professor: I remember your dad and his cooking up a storm. A huge plate of tofu and giant prawns.
Me: Thanks. (sighing) It’s sweet that so many people remember him fondly.
Him: To be honest I’d rather trade places with you in terms of dads – then and now – poignant memories of a loving deceased dad is far better than miserable memories of a distant alive dad who I’ve heard nothing from for years. On the other hand there are dads way worse than mine, so there’s that.
Me: Yeah.
Him: Whatever – we’re almost 50 and theoretically should be past this kinda stuff – but emotions are what they are. Is what it is.

Yeah, it is what it is. Just wish it wasn’t so shitty.

Location: Earlier today, 14th and 6th, looking for carbs with my favourite tiny human
Mood: pensive
Music: been dreaming of you to come wake me up (Spotify)
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Had an accident

She keeps trying, though

Her: Do you want to do this again?
Me: I’m not sure.
Her: YOU’RE NOT SURE?!
Me: Strike and withdraw. Allow me to rephrase…
Her: It’s fine. I was just trying to be nice.
Me: But, of course, darling.

Last week, I was heading back from yet another date-to-nowhere on my scooter when I went flying at 25 miles an hour head-first into a concrete divider.

Somehow, made it to another medemerge but as soon as they saw me…

Nurse: Sir, you need to get to the ER, now. We can call you an ambulance.
Me: Can I be seen here?
Her: No, you have head trauma, we can’t see you here.
Me: I’m not going back to the ER.
Her: You could have brain swelling.
Me: I’m very familiar with brain swelling, but I’m not going back to the ER, lady. If you won’t see me here, I’m going home.
Her: Let me get the doctor. (gets him)
Him: Dude, we can an ambulance here in five minutes.
Me: No.

I have never had that much blood on me, ever. And we all know I’m clumsy as heck.

This is me AFTER I cleaned myself off. The shirt I was wearing was soaked in blood, so I get that I musta looked like a freakshow beforehand.

Spoke to my brother. Turns out that I lied to him and Chad when I told them that I didn’t hit my head. I completely forgot. Not a good sign.

But my helmet reminded me the next day that I did and that’s when I remembered that I snapped my head back.

Like way back.

Later on, my buddy Thor and I spoke.

Him: You know, if you hadn’t been doing jits all these year, you probably would be paralyzed right now.
Me: Jesus Christ, I didn’t even think of that.
Him: (cheerfully) But you didn’t!
Me: Blargh.

It was a pretty sleepless night until I gave in and starting taking Alison’s old painkillers. Two cracked teeth, whiplash, and cuts all over my face and body.

Then I slept like death. Luckily, it wasn’t actually death and I woke up.

The next day, a friend of mine was supposed to pick up my son from Queens but she never called, so I pulled myself together and went out there to get him myself.

Before I left, Chad called me to check and see how I was doing.

Him: Wait, you can’t go out there yourself.
Me: Got no choice. He has school tomorrow.
Him: I’m heading to you.
Me: I gotta go.
Him: I’m leaving now. Do not leave without me.

Ended up passing out on my couch when he came over. The two of us headed out to Queens to get him.

In hindsight, I was super grateful to have Chad come because I was clearly messed up. Plus, Tosh was pretty freaked out to see me the way I was but Chad’s always been great with him.

Chad: Hey, Papi!
Him: Papa, what happened to your face?!
Chad: You daddy had a little accident but he’s fine.
Him: He doesn’t look fine.

Lemme just say that painkillers are magical. I can see why people get addicted to them. I took them both out to eat I felt so good.

But the withdrawal, dude…is no joke.

Ran out a week later and I was in agony. But that’s a different story.

It’s been about a week and my neck and knee are still doing pretty poorly but I felt good enough to head to the gym and just drill for a bit. One fella there and I had an interesting exchange.

Him: You have seven left.
Me: Seven what?
Him: (laughing) Lives. Life can’t seem to kill you.
Me: She keeps trying, though.

It was pretty eye-opening to see who checked in on me and who didn’t. Deleted a handful of new people from my phonebook and blocked one altogether.

Although the Heiress did give me a buzz for wholly unrelated matters.

Her: Hi!
Me: Hi! I’m glad you called. Please, go fuck yourself.
Her: What?!
Me: I’m pretty sure you heard me. I’m sorry you have cancer, but, honestly, it doesn’t matter how much money you have if you act like you were raised by pigs. Do us both a favour, lose my number, and fuck off. (hanging up)

My body feels like shit but, man, mentally, I’m better than I’ve been in years.

May not be a billionaire – I’m barely a thousandaire –  but I have people in my life that I wouldn’t trade for the world.

Location: Painkillerville
Mood: fuzzy
Music: yesterday, you lied. Promises of what I seemed to be (Spotify)
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I was right. Yay.

What do you expect?

The boy’s been away for a bit so I could concentrate on the gym and some things I’ve let slide since the theft.

Did manage to see my buddy Jonny for dinner along with Chad. He’s a fun fella and also a partner in the gym.

That’s us at the same place that Gymgirl/Mouse took me to when she graduated and my buddies and I went to before everything went to shit.

In any case, the three of us spent the day doing manual labour. Interestingly, Jonny solved a problem that’s been vexing Chad and me for a while now; it wasn’t as thorny as the sacrifice rod, but still…vexing.

Him: See, you shoulda called me immediately, what with my greater intellect.
Me: That was our first mistake. But what do you expect? We’re Americans. Trump was our president for the last four years.

Also managed to speak to another woman I dated a while ago. She was one of the women that broke the trust covenant with me.

Her: I could never trust you again.
Me: Why is that?
Her: (shrugging) Because I would never know if you were with me because you wanted to be with me or if you wanted to get back at me.

The thing is that I knew this. In fact, I told you about this ten years ago.

It’s weird but it’s part of why I want the boy to read, because, when you read –  unlike when do things like watch TV or videos – you get layers of understanding and complexities you’d never get in a million years otherwise.

There’s this scene in The Godfather book that’s not in the film – dunno why the director kept cutting out these important scenes.

Michael kills his brother-in-law, Carlo, and his wife Kay secretly leaves him. Mike’s brother tries to stop her but she says she can’t stay because she can’t be with a man that can’t forgive.

Mike’s brother says something like, even if Michael truly, truly forgave Carlo, Carlo still “had to be killed. Because treachery can’t be forgiven. Michael could have forgiven it, but people never forgive themselves and so they would always be dangerous….[Michael] loves his sister. But he would be shirking his duty to you and his children, to his whole family, to me and my family, if he let…Carlo go free. They would have been a danger to us all, all our lives.”

And that’s when I truly  understood everything: I forgave her for what she did, but she never forgave herself and could never believe that I forgave her.

She would always think I was plotting to hurt her out of revenge.

It’s why treachery is the ninth and last circle of hell: It destroys things so utterly and completely.

In other words, I was right. Yay.

Cancer and other fucked up shit like that notwithstanding, we all live the lives we create for ourselves and each other.

And here we are.


The boy’s away and won’t be back for a few weeks. This is him in my kali class. It’s funny, but he’s reminiscent of my friend’s dog, dontcha think?

Albeit much cuter, IMHO.

Location: earlier today, being told to buy solvent from a movie star
Mood: hungry
Music: Stops counting the crimes and lays down its pride (Spotify)
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You’re Welcome!

For sure, I’ll be ok

The Heiress is gone from this blog. The details are unimportant but the fact that she had the same cancer as Alison really messed with my head.

She showed me a picture of herself in front of a MRI machine and that sent me for a loop, although I think I hid it well.

I most definitely cannot deal with anything like that ever again.

Like I said, I only have the type of luck people don’t want.

It’s a shame though. She was the first billionaire I met although I wonder if this other fella in our gym is also one as well.

I think I’d like to meet another just for the conversations.

Me: What happened with your ex?
Her: He was going through some things so I bought him a building in Greenpoint so he could recuperate.
Me: Well, if you’re giving away buildings, the kid and I could use a townhouse in Hoboken at some point. Nuthin fancy, but central air would be nice. Oh, and one that doesn’t flood.

I’m really not that picky, considering that I live in a place where a rat swam up the toilet and it flooded, all within two weeks.

Interestingly, the Skinny House in Boston is for sale again; I visited it back in 2018. Boston seems fun but it looks like I’ll be in NYC for at least the next five years, what with the new gym et al.

On that note, Chad and I are both running on fumes trying to get this thing off the ground. As you might expect, it’s all the unexpected stuff that’s slowing us down.

Him: Uh, is that supposed to move like that?
Me: Jesus Christ.

Also, other things in the city seem to be falling apart as well.

My apartment almost flooded again earlier this week so I had plumbers come in today yet again.

And cops were all over the place the other day.

Still, I suppose, though, I am lucky in some ways.

Him: When did mommy die?
Me: (sighing) 2017.
Him: Oh man! That’s was a long time ago. (looking at me) You’ll be ok, papa. I’m here.
Me: (smiling) Then, for sure, I’ll be ok. Thank you.
Him: You’re welcome!

Location: earlier today, ducking out with the kid from some thunderstorms
Mood: exhausted
Music: Summer’s only ending if you let it, babe (Don’t let it) (Spotify)
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I won the lottery

The pyramids were white

Him: It’s a regret of mine, that I never met Alison.
Me: You woulda loved her. She was great.
Him: I also really didn’t know you before she got sick.
Me: I was…better.

Recently spoke to three different women that I spent time with after Alison died, purely by happenstance.

They each told me, in their own ways, that I was not very nice to them (to put it mildly). I can see that. I’ve repeatedly said throughout the years that I’m not a very nice person.

It’s somewhat related to that old quote from Margaret Atwood I told you about years ago:

Wanting to meet a writer because you like their books is like wanting meet a duck because you like pate.

I’ve always been a good writer and a bad person. Suppose some things are constant.

First: I really liked you and you took advantage of me.
Me: I wish I could tell you I remembered or that I didn’t do it. But, that does sound reminiscent of me. For what it’s worth,  I’m sorry.

Oddly, that Atwood entry was about kindness, and these women reminded me just how unkind I can be. Not that I need much reminding.

Second: You made me feel uncomfortable.
Me: You were never anything but kind to me. I’m sorry. Let me know how I can do better.

It made me think of the more recent entry I wrote where I told you that all those Greek and Roman statues you see as white were all painted in bright colours once.

On the flip side, for 3,800 years, the pyramids were a bright white. Then in 1303 CE, an earthquake happened that changed their look to what you know now.

Been working with Chad every single day since the middle of July. I find it odd that he only knows this broken version of me.

I think I was better when she was alive. Something good died in me when she died, I think. Maybe the best parts of me.

Him: You’ve been a good friend to me.
Me: Have I? I wonder about that. I have my own horse in this race.

Just wanna have enough good left in me to raise the boy so he’s better than me.

My mom also broke my heart this past weekend, but for an entirely different reason.

Her: Today’s Chinese Father’s Day. You know, your dad would always buy a lottery ticket and he’d always win.
Me: Really? I never knew that.
Her: Oh, nothing big, nothing big just a few dollars here and there but he won a lot. I never won anything. (quietly) Well that’s not true I guess I won the lottery when I met him.
Me: (sighs) I think you both won.

Location: riding around Riverside with the boy, early this morning
Mood: resigned
Music: Damaged, but I’m copin’, holding on and hopin’ (Spotify)
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Chasing the Dragon

I am the people

Chad’s been teaching in Brooklyn the past few months at Kings Williamsburg – great bunch of folks so if you’re in the area, you should definitely give them a go.

Pez gave the boy and me a lift there twice this week; I needed to go because it’s Chad’s last week there teaching so he can focus on getting his own gym up so that means at least a month-to-two-months of not rolling.

The fella sitting behind Chad giving the bunny ears in the main picture above is my buddy Robinson and he’s taking over the BJJ program at Williamsburg.

My son was super cute because he kept asking everyone where Mouse was.

Him: Did you see her?
Curt: Don’t worry, buddy, she’ll come.

I’ve been helping Chad with things in his gym when I can. And it’s interesting because you can see there’s a clear difference between how the wealthy look at the world and how people like me look at it.

Heiress: You’re there doing manual labor? Don’t you have people for that?
Me: Lady, I am the people.

There’s a saying called, “Chasing the Dragon,” which has multiple drug-related meanings but the one I find the most interesting is this one: The very first time someone tries a new drug, it produces this amazeballs high that they’ve never felt before.

Addicts then spend the rest of their lives trying to feel that insanely good first hit: They chase the dragon.

Now, I’ve never done any hard drugs in my life but I have been in love before and it’s the most indescribable and intoxicating feeling when it’s real.

It’s how I know the difference between love, something-a-lot-like-love and just killing time.

And when it’s gone, man, the crash is something else.

Causea that, I feel that these adventures I’ve been having lately is just me chasing the dragon. I can’t shake the feeling that something-a-lot-like-love and just killing time – but not love itself-  is in my cards.

The question is if it’s even worth the bother. Like I said, I’m le tired.

Having said that, at least I’m being entertained and some people are more entertaining than others.

After all, if you can’t have love, you might as well be entertained, yeah?

Her: I have my Hermes bike for [recreation].
Me: You have a bike…from Hermes? They make bikes?
Her: Yep.
Me: That’s wild.
Her: LOL. It’s at the beach house. If you weren’t always so busy and have the kid and took some time off you would see it!

Location: jits with The Chad in Billlyburg one last time
Mood: resigned
Music: Been steering clear of your face (Spotify)
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Not my bag

Literally, everyone has a dog

When Shawn and I went drinking a few weeks back, he said he never saw anyone talk to a stranger like I did the other day.

Him: Dude, you’re on fire.
Me: I’ve had a lotta practice in my life.

But being able to meet people and being able to connect with them are very different things.

I get that I don’t look 48, but – mentally – I’m probably a lot older than that.

And I don’t fit into this world of modern dating, I don’t think.

I have a very good friend that never wants to get married, nor kids, and wants to just have a string of one-night stands, like that old song, Goodbye Stranger.

It’s not my bag but it is his. That’s fine, we all get one life to live.

After Alison died and I started filling in my time with women I met out and about, I realized that a lot of the people that I was meeting up with were non-starters.

Because what they were looking for and I was looking for was radically different. You only get the highlights in this here blog; the nitty-gritty conversations that make the basis of any relationship aren’t really for public consumption.

But in the end, what I want out of life, I don’t think is in high demand, and that bums me out.

I used to speak high intermediate German but I never had anyone to speak to on a regular basis so I just kinda forgot it all.

Similarly, I feel like I’m the last person that speaks my language and that bums me out in ways I can’t adequately express.

Her: Just because two people are married doesn’t mean that they’re not attracted to other people. I wouldn’t mind if my guy has his fun as long as I do too.
Me: (shaking head) That’s just not my bag.
Her: What’s wrong with you?
Me: Evidently, quite a bit. I wasn’t meant for this modern love. I just want my person and I want my person to want just me. 

As an aside, I will probably die alone in NYC because I don’t like dogs and every woman in NYC – including the Heiress – has a dog.

Another random: But he’s only 10 pounds.
Me: I’m just not a dog person. Plus my condo don’t allow pets.
Her: Well, this has been a complete waste of my time.
Me: For that, I’m sorry. If there’s one thing I hate, it’s having my time wasted.

Location: in front the computer, breaking down numbers for my biz partner
Mood: solitary
Music: Will we ever meet again? (Spotify)
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It’s 2021, dontchaknow?

Ever True

Been talking to the Heiress quite a bit. She offered to send me the full amount of the theft.

Me: What? That’s insane! No.
Her: I already cut you a check, Logan. It’s fine. It’s just money.

I didn’t take it, though. Although, that was before the flood.

After the flood, she was concerned about our staying in the apartment and kindly offered to fly the boy and me down to Miami in her jet to stay at her home there for a bit.

If I wasn’t trying to keep an eye on things here, I woulda said yes.

Unfortunately, we had another misunderstanding that I’m still trying to wrap my head around. Communication is the hardest thing between any two people.

The thing is, both parties have to at least want to try and understand each other. I suppose it’s just easier to think that the other is a selfish narcissist, though.

Shame, though. Don’t meet too many smoking hot billionaires in my regular day-to-day.

Meeting the Heiress reminded me of two, very lovely, women I met way before I started this blog.

One was the daughter of a film director.

She had crashed her Lambo right before we met so she was a little banged up. Evidently, I was super nice to her, so she developed a crush on me. She told me that if I moved with her to Singapore, I would never have to work another day in my life.

Gotta say, as a 20-something, was kinda intrigued. But, I ended up saying, no. I did crash at her pad for a while before I locked down my current (flooding) pad.

Before that, I met a designer that had a good amount of success on her own, coupled with money from her father.

She also told me something along the lines of, “If you stay with me, you can just do what you want all day…as long as you love me.”

The problem was that I didn’t love her, despite all her great qualities. I didn’t love either of them.

Love’s a weird thing. There’s no rhyme or reason for why you fall in love with one person but not another.

But man, when you find love, it’s something else. I wouldn’t have given up the two women I actually loved for anything or anyone.

On that note, I spoke to the Doctor – whom I also dated in my 20s – briefly on the phone this week because I still manage one of her properties for her. Purely business but it was the first time I’d heard her voice in years. It was a head trip.

It was something a lot like love with her, but not love.

As I write this, I remember a night where Buckley and I drank with one of her uncles and he said that he would buy me a yellow Porche when we got married. I remember wondering why it had to be yellow. In hindsight, he probably had one he had to get rid of.

Lost touch with the FDD and the Designer but I last heard they were happy, as is the Doctor. That’s good.

Maybe I don’t fuck everything up.

Or maybe they’re not fucked up because they didn’t end up with me?

Don’t answer that.

Things like Porches, Lamborginis, and private jets are nice.

But I’d trade it all in a heartbeat for family and a quiet middle-class life with the boy and my person.

I came back to find that my fridge was busted.

My luck rings ever true.

Him: Well, that’s your problem right there, your motherboard burned out.
Me: The fridge has a motherboard?
Him: Yeah, man, it’s 2021, dontchaknow?

Location: a cafe, waiting for someone that was waiting for me at another cafe
Mood: suboptimal
Music: Ask me how I am, I’m getting by (Spotify)
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Life wants to break me

The streets flood

Here’s what’s happened with me since the theft:

      • A rat swam up my toilet. Evidently, it’s a thing.
      • I killed said rat. That was an interesting flashback.
      • A switch in my apartment arced and almost set it on fire.
      • My apartment flooded.

I only have the luck of the stripe people don’t want.

Sometimes I think that Life wants to break me before it ends me. I honestly wonder why it doesn’t just end me.

Then again, if I was Life, what would be the fun in that?

Speaking of life, I’ve never stood anyone up, ever. Well, until recently, that is. Of course.

The Heiress and I have both had hectic schedules lately – me for obvious reasons, her because she’s working from her beach house. She agreed to travel 2.5 hours to meet me in my hood the other day.

But I felt we never firmed up and, when I didn’t hear from her after ringing her, I figured it was a flake. I reached out a little while later just to make sure it wasn’t something like an accident.

I wasn’t prepared for what I got in response.

I’ve called numerous times. Honestly I’m not into games. You totally wasted my day.

It turns out that we both flaked on each other. I think it’s related to my phone number being stolen.

Of course.

Me: I’m so sorry about that. I’ll head to your beach house.
Her: It’s a five-hour round trip.
Me: You did it for me.
Her: Then I’ll send you a car.

She’s one of nicer and more interesting people I’ve met in life.

But I don’t even have time to process her, or anything, because so much is coming at me at once. Just need a second to take it all in.

I think I could deal with most anything one at a time.

I could deal with most anything if they were spaced the fuck out.

When the dams break
And the streets flood
I’m stuck trying to fight my way out
When the earth shakes
And the floor drops
Free falling, I hit it all on my way down
Good or bad nothing lasts
I tell myself
Ooh I know
I will see the sun
Even when it feels like
The day will never come
When everything is broken seems like the light is gone
Ooh I know ooh I know
I will see the sun
When nothing feels real
But a heartbeat
When you’re so numb, that it seems just like a movie
Then you’re crying like a little kid
Guess no one said that this life would be easy
Good or bad nothing lasts

Location: home, waiting the rain
Mood: suboptimal
Music: the streets flood. I’m stuck trying to fight my way out (Spotify)
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Hello, Darkness

I can’t do this

Gonna try and be more careful about updating this blog. But it’s what I do.

Figure that, once the boy gets to be a certain age, I’ll have to take it down. But, until then, I’ll just tell you about the nonsense that is my life.

On that note, I’ve been meeting…myself, lately.

For example, I met a woman with a young son. Her husband died on a motorcycle, hit by a log truck.

Every time we talked, she spoke of her husband, and I spoke of Alison.

I never really appreciated how giving Mouse was with her patience and ear when it came to Alison. But that’s a post for another time, I suppose.

As for this woman, I knew I wasn’t her fella. And I  wanted to tell her that I couldn’t be her guy because the weight of her loss and my loss would be too much for either of us to bear.

But she actually beat me to it.

I’m sorry, Logan, for you losses. But I’m trying to be ok – for me and my son – and I don’t think I can do this. I’m sorry.

I felt such a relief, I can’t tell you.

And I felt guilty that I felt that relief.

But the shadow of death does just that: Shadows us. Even if you don’t know it yet, she does.

I know because Shawn came by my kali class around the way and afterward…

Him: Do you wanna get a drink?
Me: Sure. There’s a place around the way I used to go to all the time.

While there, I met a girl named Lake who was traveling to Arizona the next day.

Me: What’s in Arizona, Lake?
Her: My best friend’s sister.
Me: (laughing) But not your best friend?
Her: (long pause) No. She died.
Me: Well, I guess we’re trading our sad stories then.

Shawn left early and she and I continued our conversation. It was fun, but dark.

Like me. Fun Logan.

Still, when it came to darkness, I wasn’t prepared for the Heiress.

I’ve never met an Heiress before. Prior to her, Caligirl was probably the wealthiest girl I’ve ever dated, but the Heiress was/is an…heiress. And a Harvard educated doctor, to boot.

But I’m guessing she’d trade it all to have her family again.

Me: What happened to them, if you don’t mind my asking?
Her: They all died. My husband and my twins.
Me: Holy shit.

It went even darker than that – far darker, if you can believe it – but I suppose that’s enough darkness for one night.

Sorry, I guess not.

Because another girl I’ll call the Shrink told me about a friend of hers that just died two days ago from a drug overdose.

All this happened in the span of about five days after my last horror.

What madness.

There’s always more than enough darkness to go around, isn’t there?

And it puts everything else into perspective.

Paul: Are you ok, Logan?
Me: OK is a relative term. But yes, I think I’m OK.

Location: earlier today, Williamsburg, trying to break someone’s leg
Mood: dark, but hopeful
Music: people bowed and prayed to the neon god they made (Spotify)
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