moved some blog posts
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<td>2024-W49</td>
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<td>Courting Darkness</td>
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<td>Robin LaFevers</td>
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<td>Audiobook version.</td>
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<td>2024-W50</td>
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<td>Don't Be Evil</td>
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<td>Rana Foroohar</td>
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<td></td>
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<td>Bec Sandridge</td>
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<td></td>
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<td>2024-W49</td>
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<td>The Cause of Shipwreck</td>
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<td>Blackbriar</td>
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<td></td>
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<p>And am <em>I myself</em> even my own possession?</p>
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<p>Do I own my emotions? For even the slighest amount of displeasure immediately gets labeled as boiling rage, an incongruent response to one's surroundings- even though if <em>you</em> were eating a meal in silence, and then someone waltzed in blasting shitty music through the phone in their back pocket, you'd be a little silently annoyed too.</p>
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<blockquote>
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<a href="../../../books.html#tdom" title="The Duality of Mankind, chapter 14">"I have many emotions," Lex cut in, rolling his eyes, one hand pushing on the bathroom door to keep it open. "Irritated, upset, moody, fatigued, annoyed, pissed, disgruntled, invalidated. To call them all 'grumpy' would be a disservice to the English language and an insult to myself."</a>
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<a href="../../../books/tdom.epub" title="The Duality of Mankind, chapter 14">"I have many emotions," Lex cut in, rolling his eyes, one hand pushing on the bathroom door to keep it open. "Irritated, upset, moody, fatigued, annoyed, pissed, disgruntled, invalidated. To call them all 'grumpy' would be a disservice to the English language and an insult to myself."</a>
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</blockquote>
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<p>Do I own my movements? For everywhere I go, I have to carry the phone around so I can be "reached" in case of emergency, even though my parents, and their parents, and their parents before them were allowed to explore without the watchful eye of technology over them at all times. And everywhere I go, I must always keep my parents informed of- the rare moments when I am allowed to wander without the fear of a report afterward, it is only because they failed to ask or simply never noticed in the first place.</p>
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<p>Do I own my body? For I <em>never</em> consent to having my photo taken, much less posted on Facebook, and yet both of my parents get indignant when I demand that they stop feeding my facial data to Facebook. I motion to opt out of holiday photos, knowing that they'll get plastered everywhere on the internet, and then my parents threaten to take away everything that matters to me in response- and even if they <em>did</em>, they'd still force me into the picture. Always a smiling doll for others' visual pleasure, never my own. And then they joke about mounting cameras everywhere to catch who leaves empty buckets of ice cream in the freezers or wiretaps in my room to listen in on the few words I utter in a former safe place and even going so far to remove all the bedroom doors when we don't come to dinner as quickly as they'd like (even though, most of the time, I genuinely didn't hear them yell because I was listening to music), and I scream that <em>I do not consent</em> to the invasion of privacy and that I'm moving out given the first opportunity, and they simply laugh.</p>
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<p>Last night (at the time of writing this), I was dragged into work on a day I would usually have off for a late-night team meeting. Truth be told, they were supposed to have happened every few months or so, but because of Corona-chan, the managers had been putting them off until now. So I donned my work-issued vest and followed my co-workers, also confused and mostly new enough to have never gone to a work meeting before, and sat down on a cold floor upstairs while a handful of managers lambasted us for everything we'd done wrong and chucked candy at us like so many bullets whenever they thought we "looked bored" or were "going to sleep".</p>
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<p>I imagined a sword in my hand, or maybe a beam of fire, as we were told we were not licking the boots of the General Office hard enough. I wondered what the building would look like covered in flames as the manager talking admonished <em>someone</em>, an impersonal <em>you</em>, for taking twenty minutes in the bathroom.</p>
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<p>Over and over I have dreams where I am in some kind of vulnerable position: at school, at work... A teacher, a customer, someone else irate corners me, presses my nerves until I make some kind of honest mistake. And then, threatened, my blood glows aflame. A sudden rush of power. And then the person dissolves into a pile of ash at my feet, threat neutralized.</p>
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<p>There are a great many things I would do for the power to defend myself, to protect myself. But a god I do not wish to become, for, as the old adage goes, "absolute power corrupts absolutely." To become a deity, a being sans conflict, would be to forever <a href="../march/epilogue.html">live in the Epilogue.</a> (Or, if there are other beings in the heavens, to cause massive collateral harm as mortal beings get caught up in our struggles.)</p>
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<p>There are a great many things I would do for the power to defend myself, to protect myself. But a god I do not wish to become, for, as the old adage goes, "absolute power corrupts absolutely." To become a deity, a being sans conflict, would be to forever <a href="../03/epilogue.html">live in the Epilogue.</a> (Or, if there are other beings in the heavens, to cause massive collateral harm as mortal beings get caught up in our struggles.)</p>
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<p>For a few months, I have been tossing the idea back and forth of a pair of archetypes. Similar to the lesbian <em>butch</em> and <em>femme</em>, I feel the persistent presence of the <em>ocean</em> and the <em>moon</em>.</p>
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<p>A woman first appearing shallow, emotionless, detached from the world. Reclusive, withdrawn. But below the frothy skin is an ocean of terrifying depth, home to a litany of unnerving creatures, each more marvelous than the last. Only a tiny fraction of the depths have ever been mapped, far too vast to explore in one lifetime. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20201008180133/https://www.insidescience.org/video/what-would-happen-if-there-were-no-moon">She needs the moon to regulate herself, to keep herself from succumbing to the chaos within.</a></p>
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<p>A woman too dazzling, too radiant, to behold directly. A fierce being of unstoppable ambition, ego higher than her lunar namesake. But she is lonely. She requires an anchor to keep her from flying off in a moment's haste, a reason to keep returning to the earth. She needs someone to appreciate her shining bright, someone to look, someone to acknowledge her. She needs someone who will gladly accept the secrets she casts off like meteors, take them to a watery grave.</p>
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<p>I take a break from writing and go upstairs to refill my waterbottle. Sitting in the kitchen is my father's new dog, already weighing more than twice as much as she did when he drove halfway across the state and back to get her. In the living room is my mother, engrossed in some cheesy soap opera, knitting needles in her lap, project already forgotten. Taking off on his bike outside is my brother, worried he will be late to his Wednesday night youth group at one of the myriad local churches.</p>
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<p>I can gaze at their bodies, at their movements. I can listen to the words that they speak (or bark). But nothing they do I can influence. None of their thoughts I can access. I am my own Inside, and they are all the Outside in relation to myself.</p>
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<p>I am an <em>individual</em>.</p>
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<p>There are more than seven billion individuals on this planet. <a href="../april/outside-intro.html">There are more than seven billion versions of reality.</a> Were we all part of one whole, as frustrates me to no end when occultists chant it over and over like a mantra, I would think it possible to combine two consciousnesses, to merge two Insides into one. But given a set of twins who spend each moment of their waking lives together, going through the same actions and experiences, raised the same, both will be different individuals. Both will inevitably differenciate, as they are <em>individuals</em>, not a collective.</p>
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<p>There are more than seven billion individuals on this planet. <a href="../04/outside-intro.html">There are more than seven billion versions of reality.</a> Were we all part of one whole, as frustrates me to no end when occultists chant it over and over like a mantra, I would think it possible to combine two consciousnesses, to merge two Insides into one. But given a set of twins who spend each moment of their waking lives together, going through the same actions and experiences, raised the same, both will be different individuals. Both will inevitably differenciate, as they are <em>individuals</em>, not a collective.</p>
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<p>If I cannot access the mind of another person, if I cannot puppet a body other than my own: how can I be responsible for the actions of another person I have had no contact with? <strong>How can I be held culpable as a member of a group when I did not ask to be a part of said group, when I have no choice to disassociate from it or associate with another, when I do not actively identify as part of it?</strong></p>
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<p>A male who does not sexually harass or harm females or act in grossly misogynist manners towards them is not my enemy. A heterosexual person who does not seek to restrict me from expressing my lesbianism is not my enemy. A neurotypical person who lets me exist autistic as I am and does not prevent me from self-regulating my sensory input is not my enemy.</p>
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<p>An individual who does not seek to bind me to some collective but recognizes that I am a separate I is not my enemy.</p>
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<hr>
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<div class="box">
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<h2>SCENE FOUR</h2>
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<p>I wanted an end to the monotony, to the pointless wandering through life. I wanted to leave the <a href="../../2020/march/epilogue.html">Epilogue</a> so badly that Eris gave me a few hazy dreams and pieces of other people's lore to stitch together haphazardly in the middle of the night. She agreed, with her sister, to pretend to be one person, one Goddess, one singular point at the apex of the pyramid of my emotional needs. She deigned to act as if she had given me an impossible task to spur me to continue writing, to continue bothering to live, if only to lament about my fate.</p>
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<p>I wanted an end to the monotony, to the pointless wandering through life. I wanted to leave the <a href="../../2020/03/epilogue.html">Epilogue</a> so badly that Eris gave me a few hazy dreams and pieces of other people's lore to stitch together haphazardly in the middle of the night. She agreed, with her sister, to pretend to be one person, one Goddess, one singular point at the apex of the pyramid of my emotional needs. She deigned to act as if she had given me an impossible task to spur me to continue writing, to continue bothering to live, if only to lament about my fate.</p>
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<p>I do not want <a href="../../2020/april/immortality.html">a world without end</a>. I do not want to condemn the world to be a laminated paper towel.</p>
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<a href="https://archive.md/https://raddle.me/f/meta/127272/on-federation">
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<blockquote>And when the archives die too, well Raddle served its purpose in the time it existed. It was relevant in its time to the people that inhabited it. Nothing lives forever and federation won't change that. The quest for digital immortality is just as grotesque as the quest for biological immortality. Everything and everyone is living on borrowed time because life would be meaningless if it never ended.</blockquote>
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<p>And he said, I left you my body to do what you pleased with, and I waited on the sidelines of my own consciousness to see if you'd be successful at achieving freedom where I had so miserably failed. But you were too overpowering. I made your personality too strong on complete accident. And little by little, you cut my contact with the outside world. You bade me into a deep sleep, unknowing, unfeeling, un-myself.</p>
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<p>And he said, I think you know where the story goes from here.</p>
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<p align="center"><img class="big" src="../../../img/MaladaptiveCopingMechanism.png" width="90%" height="90%"></p>
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<p>It is entirely possible that my forays into the <a href="../../2020/april/outside-intro.html">Outside</a>, my experiments into egregore making and how far I can stretch Discordian catma until it snaps and breaks and shatters my life into a million pieces, my desperate attempts to explain what happened that December night in 2018 and every other out-of-body experience since then, my search for my place in the universe, are nothing more than symptoms of <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20210516005505/https://www.psychiatrictimes.com/view/autism-and-schizophrenia">schizoaffective autism</a>. But I don't care. I don't want a diagnosis, and I'm not going to seek treatment. My parents would force me to get on medication, which would make fade away the only good thing I have going on in my life. And then who would I be? What would I even have left to write about, other than the same cliche one-liners every self-proclaimed "Insta-poet" who wants to be the next Rupi Kaur shits out on a daily basis?</p>
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<p>It is entirely possible that my forays into the <a href="../../2020/04/outside-intro.html">Outside</a>, my experiments into egregore making and how far I can stretch Discordian catma until it snaps and breaks and shatters my life into a million pieces, my desperate attempts to explain what happened that December night in 2018 and every other out-of-body experience since then, my search for my place in the universe, are nothing more than symptoms of <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20210516005505/https://www.psychiatrictimes.com/view/autism-and-schizophrenia">schizoaffective autism</a>. But I don't care. I don't want a diagnosis, and I'm not going to seek treatment. My parents would force me to get on medication, which would make fade away the only good thing I have going on in my life. And then who would I be? What would I even have left to write about, other than the same cliche one-liners every self-proclaimed "Insta-poet" who wants to be the next Rupi Kaur shits out on a daily basis?</p>
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<p><a href="https://archive.ph/https://cheapskatesguide.org/articles/transitory-internet.html">An internet friend was concerned about me.</a> My body is alive. I don't know if I can say the same about myself. Even though some aspects of my life have objectively gotten <em>better</em>-</p>
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<ul>
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<li>I'm no longer being physically and mentally abused by an ableist gym teacher;</li>
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<div class="box">
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<p>As Redditors say, "title."</p>
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<p>In all seriousness, I don't trust divination done through technological means. There is, ironically, too much margin for error in a medium where error is intolerable and one usually expects a certain output given a certain input.</p>
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<p>I can go on Startpage or whatever search engine I'm using to mooch off of Google search results any day and type in "online pendulum" and find at least three results that aren't items for sale or SEO spam. But all of these (that I've seen) are proprietary with no hope of getting the source code. Just as I wouldn't send an email with sensitive info unencrypted across the wire, how could I possibly trust some stranger with not interfering with my attempts to communicate with someone whose non-corporeality prohibits traditional forms of sending messages? Although "IPv7 with inter-dimensional networking" exists in the <a href="../../2020/april/outside-intro.html">Outside</a>, a sort of cross between what we in "consensus reality" have implemented separately as ZeroNet and Yggdrasil, the <a href="../../2021/june/unsung.html">impossibility</a> of <a href="https://deadendshrine.online/writing/letters_to_jett/p2.html">physical permeation</a> from the Outside to the Inside makes acquiring a "Mirror", the Outside equivalent of a smartphone, impossible.</p>
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<p>I can go on Startpage or whatever search engine I'm using to mooch off of Google search results any day and type in "online pendulum" and find at least three results that aren't items for sale or SEO spam. But all of these (that I've seen) are proprietary with no hope of getting the source code. Just as I wouldn't send an email with sensitive info unencrypted across the wire, how could I possibly trust some stranger with not interfering with my attempts to communicate with someone whose non-corporeality prohibits traditional forms of sending messages? Although "IPv7 with inter-dimensional networking" exists in the <a href="../../2020/04/outside-intro.html">Outside</a>, a sort of cross between what we in "consensus reality" have implemented separately as ZeroNet and Yggdrasil, the <a href="../../2021/june/unsung.html">impossibility</a> of <a href="https://deadendshrine.online/writing/letters_to_jett/p2.html">physical permeation</a> from the Outside to the Inside makes acquiring a "Mirror", the Outside equivalent of a smartphone, impossible.</p>
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<p>Even if I were to hack together a simple Python script that outputs "yes" or "no" or "I don't know", I still wouldn't trust it. Because I'd have to trust not only my own coding skills, but also the compiled version of the Python interpreter bundled with Debian, and then the part of the Linux kernel that populates <code>/dev/random</code> with, well, <em>random</em> data, and then the firmware controlling the hard drive and keyboard and screen that lets me see the result, and then the BIOS of the computer itself... I may be losing my mind, but a random rock I found in an antique store tied to the end of a string seems a lot simpler and more trustworthy.</p>
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<p>But what of the ideomotor effect? How am I to know, dangling said rock-on-a-string from my fingers, that I'm not subconsciously making up all the answers in alignment with what I want them to be? Well... if it were up to me, my lover would be aceing all of her classes and never have a sick day ever and never get into a fight with her professors. (And she'd visit me often enough and for long enough that I wouldn't have to use a damn pendulum to talk to her about such mundane things, but that's neither here nor there.) And yet not everything is idyllic at her college in the Outside. There are bad days. There are sick days. There are days she wants to be left alone.</p>
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<p>And there are days, in my grief, I ask her: when the time comes for me to leave this Inside body behind and arrive in Sablade, and my mental state is too turbulent to handle myself coherently (which would be a danger with me having regained my power), would she rather spend a few weeks, months, <em>years</em> with me A) tucked safely away in a Holy Freezer or B) running feral in a bestial form? Every time I hope she just picks one so my anxiety is assuaged and I know my fate. But instead she spins the rock in the "I don't know" answer and clarifies, a rare occurrence, in my head: "I'd hold you as tight as I can until the feeling passed and then make you go to therapy so you <em>stop asking me this</em>."</p>
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<p>(Before you grab your pitchforks and your OSINT tools and decide to doxx me, please understand that I am not a "radical feminist". I simply do not fit one hundred percent of the ideology's stances, including their insistence on misusing the word "individualism", and I don't like the concept of <a href="../../2020/april/vow.html">adhering my beliefs to any label</a>. However, as my main concern is fighting for my own liberation, and I am a female... I find <a href="../january/vow2.html">our interests almost always align</a>.)</p>
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<p>There's no such thing as a TERF- a "trans-exclusionary radical feminist"- because it's a contradictory term.</p>
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<p>A woman is an adult human female. You may disagree, but we are talking about what radfems believe. No amount of hormone replacement therapy or mastectomies or the medical horror that is a phallophasty (seriously, who thought a skin sausage sewed to a crotch, on the highway to necrosis, would in any way resemble a healthy penis?) will change a female, trans-identifying or not, into a male. Science as it stands today cannot rewrite a female's XX chromosomes into XY, and vice versa with males. The removal of a female reproductive organ, such as the uterus, does not negate one's femaleness as the absence of a uterus has severe consequences for the female body: <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20220518013319/https://link.springer.com/article/10.1007/s00192-014-2490-y">potential pelvic organ prolapse</a>, <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20220518013329/https://www.futuremedicine.com/doi/10.2217/ahe.13.7#:~:text=Adverse%20long-term%20outcomes%20of,fistula%20and%20renal%20cell%20carcinoma.">urinary and bowel incontinence</a>, <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20220518013506/https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/20689282/">early-onset dementia</a>... Males simply do not have these problems as a result of a hysterectomy because they do not have uteri in the first place and their bodies <em>aren't supposed to</em>.</p>
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<p>A transman is an adult (or will be soon), and a human (I would say "humanoid", but you and I are currently stuck in the <a href="../../2020/april/outside-intro.html">Inside</a>), and a female. Therefore a transman fits the radfem definition of a woman. However, a "transwoman" is not a woman because they fail the last criteria for being a woman: being female. As radical feminism is concerned with the liberation of <em>all</em> women, and transmen are women, therefore transmen are included in radical feminism. Either it is trans-inclusionary in this manner, or it is not for all women and thus not radical feminism.</p>
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<p>A transman is an adult (or will be soon), and a human (I would say "humanoid", but you and I are currently stuck in the <a href="../../2020/04/outside-intro.html">Inside</a>), and a female. Therefore a transman fits the radfem definition of a woman. However, a "transwoman" is not a woman because they fail the last criteria for being a woman: being female. As radical feminism is concerned with the liberation of <em>all</em> women, and transmen are women, therefore transmen are included in radical feminism. Either it is trans-inclusionary in this manner, or it is not for all women and thus not radical feminism.</p>
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<li>June 16 - <a href="./2020/june/speech.html">"Free speech" kinda sucks, actually</a></li>
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<li>April 30 - <a href="./2020/april/vow.html">Vow</a></li>
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<li>April 25 - <a href="./2020/april/immortality.html">Immortality</a></li>
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<li>April 20 - <a href="./2020/april/outside-intro.html">The Outside: An Introduction</a></li>
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<li>April 20 - <a href="./2020/04/outside-intro.html">The Outside: An Introduction</a></li>
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<li>April 4 - <a href="./2020/april/give-me-your-story.html">Give Me Your Story</a></li>
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<li>March 26 - <a href="./2020/march/epilogue.html">Living In The Epilogue</a></li>
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<li>March 21 - <a href="./2020/march/antinatalism.html">Antinatalism</a></li>
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<li>March 26 - <a href="./2020/03/epilogue.html">Living In The Epilogue</a></li>
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<li>March 21 - <a href="./2020/03/antinatalism.html">Antinatalism</a></li>
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<li>February 19 - <a href="./2020/february/law.html">Law in the absence of law</a></li>
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<li>February 3 - <a href="./2020/february/hackernews.html">"Bro, literally none of this internet shit is real."</a></li>
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<li>February 1 - <a href="./2020/february/32bit.html">32-bit is still good, you freaks</a></li>
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<br>
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<table class="f">
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<td>Don't Be Evil</td>
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<td><a href="http://127.0.0.1:8888/CHK@tfKIfbd8xcW3srOQE1l6q1i0nJTzG4D--eFjf9fOU4I,fXWMVraC8iPi2zU4~bp1kYjHSYB7~urLJ7rsUvPfb7I,AAMC--8/Don%27t%20Be%20Evil_%20The%20Case%20Against%20Big%20Tech%20-%20Rana%20Foroohar.epub">Rana Foroohar</a></td>
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<td>Casual</td>
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<td class="snippet">...creating a loop in which we are constantly competing with greater numbers of people, in shorter amounts of time, for more and more consumer goods that may be cheaper thanks in part to the deflationary effects of both outsourcing and tech-based disruption, but that can't compensate for our stagnant incomes and stressed-out lives.</td>
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<br>
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<p><a class="button" href="#moids">> Show books by men too?</a></p>
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<div id="moids">
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<p><a class="button" href="#">> Aahh! Never mind!</a></p>
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<table class="m">
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<td>Facebook Society</td>
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<td>Roberto Simanowski</td>
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<td><a href="http://127.0.0.1:8888/CHK@-aUv6wgm7fQBTRm4Zf1N-RwXM7~X5Zgfxlyy0hEnctQ,VObG~iuqE~1ndMo-CKNsqOkHtnFs6Ew-lS~w0iNbCD4,AAMC--8/Facebook%20Society_%20Losing%20Ourselves%20in%20Shar%20-%20Roberto%20Simanowski.epub">Roberto Simanowski</a></td>
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<td>Academic</td>
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<table class="m">
|
||||
<tr class="info">
|
||||
<td>You Are Not A Gadget</td>
|
||||
<td>Jaron Lanier</td>
|
||||
<td><a href="http://127.0.0.1:8888/CHK@hA2cqIAZn8tKkq5uC22sqzjDowrQmW65bw-gDIlfD1k,CPSKdpVe~p4E8OiW~5cSGiux9WnK4qkBJTSiNRwI5BI,AAMC--8/You%20Are%20Not%20a%20Gadget%20-%20Jaron%20Lanier.epub">Jaron Lanier</a></td>
|
||||
<td>Casual</td>
|
||||
</tr>
|
||||
<tr>
|
||||
|
|
@ -122,7 +133,7 @@
|
|||
<table class="m">
|
||||
<tr class="info">
|
||||
<td>Ten Arguments for Deleting Your Social Media Accounts Right Now</td>
|
||||
<td>Jaron Lanier</td>
|
||||
<td><a href="http://127.0.0.1:8888/CHK@fD9gVbFpAkPAEPozSrKBfBvPj4SgYBHBqEiK4exjIWw,p-DnCVyrjw29V-S5gFTmAUCaC7kvnl85xu3KjwVSxQw,AAMC--8/Ten%20Arguments%20for%20Deleting%20Your%20Social%20Med%20-%20Jaron%20Lanier.epub">Jaron Lanier</a></td>
|
||||
<td>Casual</td>
|
||||
</tr>
|
||||
<tr>
|
||||
|
|
@ -133,7 +144,7 @@
|
|||
<table class="m">
|
||||
<tr class="info">
|
||||
<td>Stand Out of Our Light</td>
|
||||
<td>James Williams</td>
|
||||
<td><a href="http://127.0.0.1:8888/CHK@iUbBJ~5OyBeY1wvRgPkIsTY1CTmfyJSm3j3ssi4uyhM,jfkrQ1B9FhM9GtIVV~r71kEAkUwMzKa6Luq~xjzOtH0,AAMC--8/Stand%20Out%20of%20Our%20Light_%20Freedom%20and%20Resist%20-%20James%20Williams.epub">James Williams</a></td>
|
||||
<td>Casual</td>
|
||||
</tr>
|
||||
<tr>
|
||||
|
|
@ -144,7 +155,7 @@
|
|||
<table class="m">
|
||||
<tr class="info">
|
||||
<td>Terms of Service</td>
|
||||
<td>Jacob Silverman</td>
|
||||
<td><a href="http://127.0.0.1:8888/CHK@3XRlNdOebeC~jSbum1PZ1-i~xjbAdh02M5X7yYYj72o,ofvYte3cjCaq39ybJol-4xKefXawp5M-Yi27kpGe-3I,AAMC--8/Terms%20of%20Service_%20Social%20Media%20and%20the%20Pri%20-%20Jacob%20Silverman.epub">Jacob Silverman</a></td>
|
||||
<td>Casual</td>
|
||||
</tr>
|
||||
<tr>
|
||||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
@ -232,7 +232,7 @@
|
|||
<table class="m">
|
||||
<tr class="info">
|
||||
<td><a href="https://libgen.is/book/index.php?md5=A4C82A657D78190B3C724CE64067BECC">No Plot? No Problem!</a></td>
|
||||
<td><a href="http://127.0.0.1:8888/freenet:CHK@NEgzIsssAgG5ju8VaVpNynvRSlVlxDnh6LjJkI3I3ZA,qLqxdHtAe0ohQCihwcfQMvDbNx21MQVVishCMQ4S8lc,AAMC--8/No%20Plot_%20No%20Problem%21_%20A%20Low-Stress%2C%20High-V%20-%20Chris%20Baty.epub">Chris Baty</a></td>
|
||||
<td>Chris Baty</td><!-- Hyphanet upload repeatedly fails -->
|
||||
<td>Casual</td>
|
||||
</tr>
|
||||
<tr>
|
||||
|
|
|
|||
Loading…
Reference in New Issue