Things I Learned From Facebook

1. You don't have to tell everybody everything. You really don't.

So often, I go on Facebook and I end up reading things that I didn't necessarily need to know. Those annoying pregnancy trackers aside (Note: congratulations and all that, but I don't give a shit what your baby looks like until it comes out), I see a lot of mindless, meaningless fluff and chatter on Facebook that honestly becomes irritating to me. I feel bad saying this because I know some people get off on small talk, but...no. You know what? I don't feel bad, because I don't think I'm alone in feeling this way and I reserve the right to have my own opinion without having to explain or defend every single thing I say.

2. And they probably don't care most of the time, anyway.

This is true. Most people probably don't care, and I'm guilty as charged from both sides of the fence. I realize that when I post a nauseatingly cute photo of my cat, some people might be like, "Enough with the cat already!" I guess I post it for the few who will appreciate it, and everyone else is just gonna have to deal. When you make a post online for many people to see, it's really very difficult to pick and choose your audience...that's just how it goes on the Interwebz. Nothing new here...just a different format.

3. This is nothing personal...really. It isn't.

It isn't. Just because I don't care what you had for dinner doesn't mean I don't like you or find your other posts a little more interesting. So quit crying already.

4. You don't have to be friends with everyone. You really don't.

It's totally okay to decide not to be someone's friend, whether on Facebook or otherwise. I think when I was younger, I felt sort of a social pressure to maintain friendships even if they were possibly harmful to me, or if I no longer had anything in common with that person or something.

Every time I'd end up having a falling-out with someone, I'd feel really guilty about it and developed this policy that I never wanted to burn a bridge or have bad karma with anyone. But as you get older and you get away from the college experience a bit-where socializing is basically forced upon you-, you start to realize how impossible it is to maintain this standard, and that furthermore, you're under no social obligation to make friends with everybody.

Facebook has a way of trivializing "friendships" that to me, is sort of shallow and obnoxious. It got worse when they introduced the tiers of friends: "close friends," "acquaintances," and so on. I've managed to end up with a lot of people on my Friends list who seem nice enough, but I couldn't tell you for the life of me what they look like, what their favorite color is, or how we met, if at all.

I'm just not into that sort of thing. I have a handful of close friends and I appreciate them deeply...Facebook doesn't really do a very good job of encompassing how much I care about them. It's a great way to communicate via Chat and Messages with people who you already know and just want to talk to, if you can't go see them in person. But to build an entire social life based on online communication? Well, 10-15 years ago, it would automatically brand you a social outcast and a weirdo. Go figure that it's perfectly acceptable- and encouraged- now.

5. There is a significant difference between a "friend" and an "acquaintance."

See above.

6. Sometimes the past should stay in the past, and sometimes you should reach out and keep in touch with people better.

But in either case, it's your decision, and you shouldn't feel compelled to talk to your grade school pals just because they're on your Friends list. If you don't want someone tagging you in awkward photos from the 90's, just say so with a little grace and most people will understand, because nobody should ever have to see photos of you wearing Umbros with your bangs parted in the middle.

7. Most people can't write for shit.

I'm sorry to say this and to risk sounding like a snobby bitch from the bowels of academia, but it's the truth. Even when people manage to master the fine distinction between "your" and "you're," I'm constantly appalled at the clunkiness of their statements and the rampant "text-speak." Even when I post from my phone, I try to at least show some sort of proof that I can speak and write English pretty well.

8. Big Brother is watching you poop.

It's bad enough that I still dredge up things I wrote on the Internet ten years ago that I kinda wish I could delete from the Internet and un-Google somehow. But to now have Facebook harvesting information about me that could lead to God knows what? It's just too much. While I don't buy into all the Orwellian paranoia, I do find apps like Girls Around Me disturbing, and I think Facebook has made people far too casual when it comes to revealing personal information online.

On a related note, I also find it sad that the Internet has become such a wasteland for our culture. Doesn't anybody care that kids will grow up without knowing what books, CDs, or pay phones are? That all of their history will be on the Internet on a cloud somewhere, instead of in tattered photo albums and worn videos (or even DVDs)?

To put it in a less archaic, Luddite fashion, let me just ask you this. Nostalgia aside, if the Facebook server went down and everybody's profiles were wiped out, what would you lose? And does that bother you? Would you lose your favorite vacation photos? Your funny Notes? Your Messages from beloved friends and family? Doesn't it scare you to think about that information someday being completely inaccessible? Isn't it weird to have your whole life online?

It bothers me a little bit. It always has, and that's why- like a squirrel harvesting nuts for the winter- I bury my information in various places so I can dig it up in more than one spot if I have to: on my hard drive, on external drives, in notebooks, on Livejournal, on this blog, and on Facebook and MySpace. I try to duplicate as much as I can when it comes to saving my writing, music, and photos, because that way if something happens, I won't be totally up shit creek. Every year or so, I go through everything I can find and I decide what I still want to share, and what I want to save for myself.

Facebook has complicated this process because when everybody was forced onto Timeline, I'm willing to bet I wasn't the only one scrambling to partition my profile in such a way that not everyone on my Friends list could see everything. Why? Because as Talk Talk says, it's my life!

As the Internet becomes a necessity, a utility right up there with electricity and gas, my advice to anyone on it is to tread carefully and try to think ahead to 2022...in ten years, what do you want to leave behind? When I look at some of what I wrote and posted online ten years ago versus now, I really wish I could edit it a little more carefully.

Then again, it's thanks to Facebook that I finally developed a better sense of boundaries about these things...somehow, once everybody else started sharing everything, I began to withdraw. And now, I don't really know what's on my mind...all I know is that I don't really feel like telling everybody.

My Grandfather

My grandfather looked like Gregory Peck. Despite spending more of his life behind the camera than in front of it, he was very photogenic. He had an intensity to his eyes which my dad and I both inherited, a serious look which could turn into a smile at any moment. Even as he grew old and stooped, my grandfather was impressively tall; between him and my great-uncle, my dad- at 6'2- is the shortest of the Wengenroth men. Go figure.

But what is there really to say, and where do I start? How do I describe someone who I loved so much and only knew for a mere third of his entire life anyway? How do I capture his memory in a way that keeps it fresh and sweet in my heart as I myself grow older? For nearly a month, I have held off on truly and fully gathering my thoughts on the sad and inevitable passing of my grandfather; my dad's dad. I didn't post it on Facebook as a status update because I felt like it would cheapen his memory to do so. People can announce the births of their children in such a manner, but I wanted this moment as something real and not a virtual snippet of information in cyberspace. In fact, I didn't talk about it much to anyone except close friends and my family. And my family didn't even really talk much about it until this weekend, when we all gathered in Florida on a beautiful sunny day to commemorate him and celebrate the life he had.

Even as I write this, the winter sun is dropping lower in the sky and I feel slightly ashamed to miss it, but after all, it's 40 degrees here anyway; who am I kidding? In longing for summer, I am reminded of the steamy July day that a thunderstorm struck Brooklyn while I was at the beach, and the quality of the light was so breathtaking, that I went all the way back home to grab my camera…and all the way back to the beach, practically throwing myself onto the sand in my haste to catch the light before it was gone. As the sun set, the sky turned a bloody orange smudged with ominous gray, the clouds rolled in, and the water churned as it began to rain lightly, casting the world in a shimmering mist. I ran to a bodega to get batteries (my older digital camera required a whopping eight AA batteries!) and headed towards Coney Island, snapping photos the whole time. I was so caught up in the rush of capturing a beautiful image, in the pleasure of seeing, that before I knew it, the sun had set and it was dark. I stared at Astroland Park in the darkness, looking so picturesque and timeless. I sent an excited email to my grandfather, describing my photographic expedition and enclosing an amount of photos which probably crashed his browser.

His response is one of my fondest memories of him because to me, it sums up his character so well and it was one of the things I loved; not only was he supportive of my interest in photography, but he was a gracious and helpful critic. "I particularly like the Astroland Park photos," he wrote, "the quality of the light is beautiful. But have you thought about getting a tripod?" In my excitement, there were a few shots which had a slightly Dutch angle to them. But with a little Photoshop tweaking, they were perfect. This was what Grandpa and I shared; a love for chocolate (which I'm convinced is genetic, as my dad inherited it too!) and for the streets of Brooklyn, and a love for photography...a need to capture an image, to preserve a moment in time.

How strange to look at photos he took, and photos of him, when time has run out and he has passed on, but not before leaving- as the Longfellow poem says- footprints in the sands of time. I remember going to a photography expo with him in Boston, where he bought me my 35mm camera so I could take a photography class in high school. It's a Canon FTB and I still have it. Unfortunately, it's notorious for a faulty shutter and the last roll I shot came out with a hard black line obscuring half the frame. But that camera and I got along quite well, and it still sits on a shelf in my apartment; people can kill off film all they want, but that camera is mine forever. During that same time, I remember watching him work in his darkroom at the house on Culver Lake, first developing and then printing stunning color photographs. I felt so privileged to be included in the Wengenroth circle of creative, hard-working engineers, thinkers, and artists, awe-struck as I watched Grandpa work patiently and carefully to craft these images. I would stand in the hallway of the house at the Lake and just stare at his photographs, from a portrait of my Nana's cat Lulu ( she definitely missed her calling to be in a cat calendar…) to stunning panoramic shots of the lake and the woods.

As if watching a slide show in my mind's eye, I flip back a bit further, and I'm reminded of all the time we would always spend outside, whether at Culver Lake, in Stoke State Forest, or up at Mohonk…such a part of my family's history that when I took a trip to Mohonk by myself for a film shoot a few years ago, I found myself expecting to see them hiking along the trails beside me. The house at Culver Lake was not just any house, you see. My grandfather built that house. It wasn't until I began getting a sense of the work my dad does (my dad "flips houses" to use the trendy phrase), that I fully understood how incredible it is that my grandfather built that house for his family. Of course now, the Lake has changed and grown into McMansions and tastelessness, and the house was torn down. I was enraged and devastated when I found out; how could something so precious be ended, just like that?

And yet, that's how it was. Grandpa turned 90 in September and was greeted with a compilation of family memories, written by everyone in the Wengenroth clan. His health had seriously declined in the past few years, as COPD and an aneurysm in his stomach seemed to be in a race to the finish. As was typical of his generation, he dealt with the inconveniences of old age and sickness, by…well, by just dealing with it. "Well, actually, I'm bored," he said to me when I asked how he was doing. "I can't really take photos much anymore, so now I just look at them." I remember feeling furious and sad with the world on the day that I called him from my new smartphone and he couldn't hear me because the audio quality is just not as good as it is a regular phone. Somehow, that was the moment when he truly seemed old to me, despite the fact that he'd had hearing aids for quite some time (being too close to a gunshot blast in the Navy will do that to you). I employed Nana as my translator and followed up with an email. I hung up with a lump in my throat. I was in my 20's, he was in his 80's, and all of a sudden, just like that, time was ticking.

When I walked into the church yesterday and saw a photograph of him, smiling with kind eyes and looking surprisingly radiant for such an old man, I thought to myself, "What a perfect photo of him." When I saw the simple wooden box containing his ashes, I thought to myself, "What a perfect box for him." And then when I saw the American flag, folded into a triangle and placed in a glass case, that was when my eyes blurred, my throat closed up, and I broke out in a sweat as I tried- in some ridiculous attempt to be calm and level-headed - not to cry. Even as my eye makeup ran down my face and my entire body tensed trying to hold in the tears, I wanted to unclench my jaw and just sob without abandon at the gaping sense of loss I felt for my family. Because when I saw that flag, that was when it hit me that he had lived such a full and long life, of which I should have learned more. I thought of all the things I wanted to ask him about that will now go unanswered. I was struck by this absurdly childish and profound realization that my grandfather was once a cute guy in the Navy, a gangly young man with big ears and a big nose, that my grandfather was once a boy building model airplanes in Flatbush, Brooklyn, probably a twenty-minute walk from where I live now. Something about those faded stars folded into that familiar triangle, knocked my grandfather's life into a perspective which I had rarely considered; the entire thing. I thought how incredible it was that he served his country, that he survived the turmoil of his wife's untimely death at age 43 and the merging of two families upon his remarriage to my Nana (it was like the Brady Bunch only more interesting), that he built a house for his family, that he created beautiful things. He was an artist and an engineer and a woodworker and a photographer and a little boy riding the Cyclone at Coney Island. He was standing on the roof of the house at Culver Lake putting on the finishing touches. He was carefully sanding the wooden bowl which sits on my dresser filled with shells from all the beaches I've been to. He was a cornerstone of my childhood and my brother's childhood, part of a symmetry of our family, a force in my life who gave me a way to express myself as a teenager.

My uncles and my dad got up to speak. My uncle Dan spoke of the time that the family dog went off into the cold woods to have her puppies one night, and how Grandpa went out and brought them all back safe and sound. My uncle Phil spoke of how he was the black sheep, yet when he went to grad school, he saw a pride in Grandpa's eyes that he will never forget. My great-uncle Dick spoke of their childhood together. I pictured two little boys jumping on the bed in a little house in Flatbush, whacking each other with pillows while meanwhile, the country was in the grips of the Depression. I pictured Grandpa as a boy working painstakingly on model airplanes. Dick reminisced about their boyhood summers at Culver Lake, then the winter ice-skating and playing in the snow. Then his voice broke as he said softly, "I am so grateful for those memories." My dad was more uplifting than I thought he would be, speaking of the importance of remembering a person's spirit even after they have passed on. We recited the Lord's Prayer, sang a traditional Navy hymn, and that was that. We went out to the courtyard and talked, hugged, laughed, and cried in the dazzling Florida sun. Even Nana was able to joke and smile amidst her grief; maybe that's how you get through it all. We went to the beach and walked down to the pier, leaving our own footprints in the sand, collecting shells. We talked of scattering Grandpa's ashes at Culver Lake. I stared at the ocean and wished I'd had my camera. I remembered visiting Grandpa and Nana the first year they moved down to Vero Beach and being astonished at the size and boldness of the pelicans, who seemed to pose for me as I snapped photos with my camera. Grandpa was like a human light meter; I got some great shots that day thanks to his expert eyes.

Because I had no camera yesterday, I took a picture in my mind of the bright sun, the turquoise water, the colorful shells, my cousins, brother, and parents as they walked along the shore. I watched my dad as he walked and recognized the same set of his shoulders that Grandpa had, the same thoughtfulness to his voice when he speaks, the same ears, the same eye for detail and careful hands crafting paintings, photos, and architecture…all of these things like tiny echoes of Grandpa and of our family…some of which I've also inherited. As the sun sets outside my tiny Brooklyn apartment a stone's throw from the neighborhood that my great-grandfather helped to develop (unfortunately, some of it has become the border of Bed-Stuy, but just like the realtors around here, I try to gloss over that), I feel a twinge of sadness that Grandpa will not see the way the bare, black trees frame the colors in the sky. But then I think of how lucky he was to have such a beautiful life…and how lucky I am to have such an amazing family…and because there are some things that even a photo can't capture, I sit quietly and just look.

The Printer

I am using this email exchange to provide a hilarious example of how absurd Craigslist transactions can be. Bear with me, it's long but worth a read. I did not bother to change the guy's name because it's so generic anyway. That IS his real email address, too. Maybe he's on Facebook, should I friend request him?

** CRAIGSLIST ADVISORY --- AVOID SCAMS BY DEALING LOCALLY
** Avoid: wiring money, cross-border deals, work-at-home
** Beware: cashier checks, money orders, escrow, shipping
** More Info: http://www.craigslist.org/about/scams


Wondering if this is still for sale and whether you can take $20 for it.


This message was remailed to you via: sale-zjpzh-2726659961@craigslist.org
If this email is a scam or spam please flag it now:
http://www.craigslist.org/flag/?flagCode=31&smtpid=20111201142558Pu8QYygc4RGhCubjm0lgAw







anniehalo82@gmail.com
Dec 1 (10 days ago)


to Charles



Yeah, $20 is fine. When can you pick it up?

Sent from my Verizon Wireless Phone


----- Reply message -----
From: "Charles Sumner"
Date: Thu, Dec 1, 2011 9:25 am
Subject: I860
To:

** CRAIGSLIST ADVISORY --- AVOID SCAMS BY DEALING LOCALLY
** Avoid:  wiring money, cross-border deals, work-at-home
** Beware: cashier checks, money orders, escrow, shipping
** More Info:  http://www.craigslist.org/about/scams


Wondering if this is still for sale and whether you can take $20 for it.
   

------------------------------------------------------------------

This message was remailed to you via: sale-zjpzh-2726659961@craigslist.org
If this email is a scam or spam please flag it now:
http://www.craigslist.org/flag/?flagCode=31&smtpid=20111201142558Pu8QYygc4RGhCubjm0lgAw
------------------------------------------------------------------






anniehalo82@gmail.com
Dec 1 (10 days ago)


to Charles



Yeah, $20 is fine. When can you pick it up?

Sent from my Verizon Wireless Phone

----- Reply message -----
From: "Charles Sumner"
Date: Thu, Dec 1, 2011 9:25 am
Subject: I860
To:


** CRAIGSLIST ADVISORY --- AVOID SCAMS BY DEALING LOCALLY
** Avoid: wiring money, cross-border deals, work-at-home
** Beware: cashier checks, money orders, escrow, shipping
** More Info: http://www.craigslist.org/about/scams


Wondering if this is still for sale and whether you can take $20 for it.


------------------------------------------------------------------
This message was remailed to you via: sale-zjpzh-2726659961@craigslist.org
If this email is a scam or spam please flag it now:
http://www.craigslist.org/flag/?flagCode=31&smtpid=20111201142558Pu8QYygc4RGhCubjm0lgAw
------------------------------------------------------------------





Charles Sumner charles.sumner@live.com
Dec 1 (10 days ago)


to me



Most likely this weekend. Where are you located exactly?


To: charles.sumner@live.com
From: anniehalo82@gmail.com
Subject: Re: I860
Date: Thu, 1 Dec 2011 10:54:37 -0500





Annie Halo
Dec 1 (10 days ago)


to Charles



Cool. I'm right near Prospect Park off the Q train...45 Ocean Avenue #2H. I'll be around Saturday and Sunday afternoon. Saturday I have to leave at 5 but anytime before then works for me.
617-529-0679





Annie Halo
Dec 1 (10 days ago)


to Charles



Oh oops, I mean Sunday at 5. Honestly, I think Sunday afternoon would probably be better, I just realized I have some work to do on Saturday. Anyway, let me know if that works for you!





Charles Sumner charles.sumner@live.com
Dec 1 (9 days ago)


to me



Pretty busy Saturday too until 3 or 4. I am in Midtown so it'll take me an hour to get to you. Let's touch base again Saturday so we have a better idea. Sunday should be all right though. By the way would you mind if I printed a test page when I am there? It doesn't need to be connected to anything to do it. These printers are notorious for clogging over time.


Date: Thu, 1 Dec 2011 12:21:02 -0500
Subject: Re: I860
From: anniehalo82@gmail.com
To: charles.sumner@live.com





Annie Halo
Dec 3 (8 days ago)


to Charles



Hi,
Sorry I didn't get back to you sooner. A test page would be fine. Anyway, Sunday afternoon is open for me, so just let me know.





Charles Sumner charles.sumner@live.com
Dec 4 (7 days ago)


to me



Hi

Just saw your email now. Unfortunately don't think I can make it today by 5, but can do anytime after that. Normally weekdays I can only do after 7. I am still interested so I'll let you know if there's a window before next weekend.


Date: Sat, 3 Dec 2011 12:13:04 -0500





Annie Halo
Dec 4 (7 days ago)


to Charles



Okay cool, my weekday evenings are usually pretty full but let me know what day works for you and I'll try and figure it out.





Charles Sumner charles.sumner@live.com
Dec 5 (6 days ago)


to me



I can do any day after 7PM except Thursday. Otherwise let's try for Saturday.


Date: Sun, 4 Dec 2011 12:39:55 -0500





Annie Halo
Dec 8 (3 days ago)


to Charles



Saturday it is, are you gonna be around? 





Charles Sumner charles.sumner@live.com
Dec 8 (2 days ago)


to me



Saturday should be fine. I will get in touch with you tomorrow to arrange a time.


Date: Thu, 8 Dec 2011 12:22:45 -0500





Charles Sumner charles.sumner@live.com
Dec 9 (1 day ago)


to me



How does 1PM tomorrow sound?


Date: Thu, 8 Dec 2011 12:22:45 -0500





Annie Halo
Dec 10 (1 day ago)


to Charles



Hi,
Any chance you can do Sunday instead? I have to work tomorrow...





Charles Sumner charles.sumner@live.com
Dec 10 (1 day ago)


to me



Is there anytime we can meet tomorrow? Sunday is not convenient. I can only come after 5PM.


Date: Sat, 10 Dec 2011 01:03:31 -0500





Annie Halo
Dec 10 (1 day ago)


to Charles



After 5 on Sunday works for me, actually...I guess if you want to come by tomorrow morning before 11 that would work...45 Ocean Avenue, Q train to Prospect Park...617-529-0679





Charles Sumner charles.sumner@live.com
Dec 10 (1 day ago)


to me



I might come in the morning then. Is there enough ink to do a self-test print? If not I can bring it.


Date: Sat, 10 Dec 2011 01:13:35 -0500





Annie Halo
Dec 10 (1 day ago)


to Charles



I would bring it. I haven't printed enough with it to have to change the cartridges, so I'm honestly not sure. Just shoot me a text or email tomorrow morning and let me know, otherwise we can shoot for Sunday evening after 5.





Charles Sumner charles.sumner@live.com
Dec 10 (1 day ago)


to me



All right I will let you know.


Date: Sat, 10 Dec 2011 01:25:31 -0500





Annie Halo
10:46 AM (2 hours ago)


to Charles



Hi,
I'll be around this afternoon (Sunday) until about 4. I have rehearsal tonight but I think tomorrow night would be okay too.





Annie Halo
10:47 AM (2 hours ago)


to Charles



...Sorry, I didn't really finish that email, I just woke up and clearly my brain is still half-asleep, ha ha! So, yeah, if you want to swing by and have a look at the printer, just let me know!





Charles Sumner charles.sumner@live.com
12:46 PM (43 minutes ago)


to me



I thought we agreed after 5? Won't be able to make it then. My schedule is weekdays after 7, Sunday after 5, or Saturdays.


Date: Sun, 11 Dec 2011 10:46:24 -0500





Annie Halo
12:57 PM (33 minutes ago)


to Charles



I told you, I have rehearsal, I play in four different bands and it's really hard to reschedule, seeing as they charge a cancelation fee and tonight's is actually already rescheduled from last night because my guitarist is even flakier than I am, if you can believe that, ha ha...I guess let's just try for an evening during the week...at this point it might even be easier for me to just drop the damn thing off to you, I mean, it's $20! I can give you the printer, you can make sure it works when you get home, and then you can Paypal me, and if you don't pay me, I'll just write you off as another Craigslist deadbeat and go on with my life...something like that anyway. Where do you live, hopefully not someplace far/expensive train fare i.e. Long Island? :-/ 





Charles Sumner charles.sumner@live.com
1:03 PM (26 minutes ago)


to me



Forget it sell it to someone else. I don't care for your rudeness. I have stated consistently what my schedule is. I work as a surgical resident and cannot leave the hospital, yet I can manage to keep appointments. It's you who are being the deadbeat changing your availability the day of.


Date: Sun, 11 Dec 2011 12:57:03 -0500





Annie Halo
1:22 PM (7 minutes ago)


to Charles



Dear Charles, (or do you go by Charlie? No, I'm serious)

As far as being a deadbeat, I basically admitted that myself with the comment about my guitarist ("even flakier than I am"). Oh, and you know what? I'm not being rude, I just have a dry sense of humor which you're obviously misreading....your loss. But since you already think I'm rude, now I AM going to be a bit rude and I am going to use the f-word, so watch out. Also, I put it in bold so that it's easier to read. I'm sorry, but I just have to get this off my chest because I have about had enough of Craigslist.

Dude, I fucking offered to drop the thing off to you AND to accept payment later.... I mean, come on...and you're getting on my ass about trying to make this MORE convenient for you! For that matter, you should've told me you work in the medical industry and I would've been more understanding about your schedule and the like. It's nice that you don't blow off your clients, by the way. That gives me a little more faith in the medical industry. ;-) (that was a joke)

I guess we both just have crazy schedules for totally different reasons...there is no need to sling mud about it. Even if you do in fact live in Long Island. I'm kidding, I'm kidding. See, that was another joke in case you were wondering...I guess I should point them out to people from now on. You know, I really hate the Internet and I hate the fact that nobody seems to understand sarcasm anymore. I don't know if you've noticed that in your line of work. At any rate, I think I will just keep my goddamn printer. 

Have a pleasant Sunday afternoon. Someday, you will find a printer that speaks to you in glorious hues of cyan, magenta, yellow, and black. You know, the Canon Pixma series is excellent and only about $50. It's cross-platform, too. I used to have one; ironically, I sold it on Craigslist a few years ago. For $20! 

-Annie





Annie Halo
1:23 PM (6 minutes ago)


to Charles



p.s. I just want you to know that actually I'm not mad at all and I think this whole thing is hilarious. ALL THIS NONSENSE FOR A TWENTY-DOLLAR PRINTER!!! 

The Changing Landscape Of The Music Industry: If A Tree Falls In The Forest, Does Anyone Buy CD's Anymore?

The short answer is "No," but as time goes by, I'm starting to think that independent artists deserve a better response than that. As a keyboardist in a New York City glam/synthpop band, I've heard people blame everything from Napster, Kurt Cobain's suicide, the economy, the subway, and the sound guy. In the end, however, who can we really "blame" when the RIAA threw their hands up long ago, Radiohead handed out their album for whatever their fans decided it was worth (and have been monumentally successful as a result, to add to the puzzle), and the big studios are all closing?

I recently read a book which discussed, in part, the main causes of most plane crashes. The bottom line is that the plane crash most often occurs due to a series of events, as opposed to one major catastrophe. More often than not, the plane ends up crashing because, in essence, people fail to communicate properly with each other. I believe that this lack of communication is the root of any and all conflict throughout history. Furthermore, I believe that in the entertainment industry, we are all guilty as charged; we have whittled down our communications to notes on Facebook and tweets on Twitter. It gets people talking, but it's mostly fluff, as if our fifteen minutes of fame has been appealed and now suddenly we want at least 600 friends instead or it's not happening.

These current issues are all at the root of the question I even ask myself: "What does it take to make it as an independent artist in the music industry today and why is it so goddamn hard?" And let me tell you, I've asked everybody. The lead singer of my band went on a wistful reminiscence of the early 00's New York City electroclash scene, when "people were really into bands like Interpol and The Faint and we fit right in there, man..it was easier." ("Um, it's time for soundcheck." "Oh, yeah.") Alan Wilder, formerly of Depeche Mode and now of Recoil, commented on the "volume wars" and the perpetual battle of how to sell your product in an mp3 market.

Studio owners have cited things as practical as rising real estate and utilities costs, as well as older analog equipment falling into ruin because not only is it difficult to find people to do the repairs, but parts are becoming more scarce. (As the owner of two vintage analog synthesizers, I can attest to this for sure!) Everyone blames the recession, some 90's revivalists in flannel shirts assured me it all changed when Kurt Cobain put that gun in his mouth, and at this point, I'm sure somebody somewhere is pointing the finger at the volcano in Iceland.

In order to really figure out why it's a different game now, what makes it harder, and more importantly, what we can do about it, please open your fifth grade history book to page 101 and start reading the first paragraph about dinosaurs. Relax, I'm not calling all you old-skool studio owners dinosaurs! I'm saying, this is just another pattern of evolution at work. All we have to do is ask ourselves: why does anything become endangered- or worse, extinct? Raise your hand if you know the answer. That's right: failure to adapt, whether intentional or not. The dinosaurs died because something happened which changed their living environment into a world they were no longer equipped to survive in, and could not adapt to. When I was four years old and I found this out, I was really crushed because I had wanted a Stegosaurus as a pet for a while. I think I might have even cried about it.

Well, it's not worth crying about now. We have our answer, and if we're an independent musician, we've never been a part of the mainstream anyway, so we might as well get creative and see what we can do to adapt. I am by no means citing Facebook or Twitter as inadequate methods of promotion; quite the contrary, in fact- and it sure beats standing around Guitar Center handing out flyers in the summer heat, or bribing a local radio station to let you make some awkward announcement: "Um, so, yeah. Come to our show. Punch and pie."

That said, it's hard for an independent artist to make it because now that the music industry is mutating into another life-form right before our eyes (hopefully a more sustainable one than our friends the dinosaurs), everyone wants to jump into the pool for one last swim before the meteorite comes. Sometimes they pee in the pool, too. I won't name names, but if you want to see the phrase "flooded market" come to life, visit New York City, take the L train to Bedford Avenue, get off the train, and just watch the people for a while. (If you like falafel, there's a great place right on the corner called Oasis; check them out!) Here is a veritable mecca of indie culture, with everyone struggling to get their word (or flyer) in edgewise. And speaking of edges, it's a double-edged sword. It's the independent artist's best bet, but it's also their worst nightmare. Now that "indie" music has become more, well, "mainstream," (There, I said it. Please don't take me outside and shoot me) it seems the plot has thickened further. We basically have a thousand bands fighting for fifty spotlights. If you're willing to evolve and develop sharp enough teeth or a thick protective shell, maybe you'll find your place, but without these things, it will be harder still; I know this because I am one of those sensitive, small, plant-eating dinosaurs and I live in constant fear of being devoured.

The best advice I can give to any independent artist today is to stop mourning the fact that the music industry is not what it used to be, and focus on what it could become as our methods of consuming our media change, as the economy picks itself up and dusts off its scabbed knees at last, as the pendulum swings back the other way. If the big studios are closing, then it's a buyers' market, now isn't it? Get in there and make your album, because those guys want your business and their rates will never be this low at this beautiful vintage studios with the best gear you could possibly ask for; it puts your friend's basement to shame! Learn from them while they are still around, because we are the future of the music industry, we the tattered twenty-and-thirty-something youth of the scene. We built the Facebook/Twitter/MySpace empire. We created the Ipod. We wrought new technology upon the world for better or worse, and as long as this is happening, it has never been a better time to be creative and to adapt. If you're looking for big money, go work in an office, and if you're looking for lifelong stability, go get married and buy a house in the suburbs (some of my divorced friends might argue this). But if you're looking for a New World, look around...you're in it, kid!

The independent music scene in New York is a kaleidoscope of genres and styles, a mash-up of struggle and art. Everything's changing and nothing has changed. I would venture to say that there are a few subway musicians who make more money than a lot of the bands playing out right now, but it doesn't mean things are hopeless. It seems the original "indie" style of music is shifting into something a little more experimental, a sturdier mixed bag of influences and talents. While it's true that not as many people buy CD's anymore, I see a lot more people who are into buying vinyl again, myself included. For my parents, it was the expected format, but for me, it's a rarity and a treat: look at this beautiful artwork that can even be framed if you spend $10 on the Vinyl Album Frame at Target! (I'm staring fondly at the sleeve of Kraftwerk's Autobahn hanging majestically on my wall as I type this) And just listen to it...it sounds great! It sounds whole!

I had an interesting conversation with the owner of a studio who admitted to me outright that he might have to close soon. "Some people think things will turn around, but I don't think they will...and I don't know what I'm gonna do now." I listened helplessly as this self-assured, strong-willed 50-year old man's voice cracked a tiny bit, and I remembered when I was a kid and my mom lost her job, and it blew my mind because I thought my mom was a champion and could not be defeated. In that instant, I realized that my elders did not know everything and were not immortal or invincible. I think that was the day that I picked up the slack and took part of the weight of the world on my shoulders so that they wouldn't have to (I was a very serious child).

At the least, that's what we have to do now. And at the most, we have to keep playing, and keep creating, because there is always someone to hear the tree falling in the forest, even if you can go home instead and just download the sound and drop it into Itunes. (It's not the same, though!)

Album Review: How To Destroy Angels, self-titled EP

Album Review:

How To Destroy Angels, self-titled EP

The Null Corporation 2010

How To Destroy Angels And Confuse Nine Inch Nails Fans

How To Destroy Angels is ex-Nine Inch Nails' Trent Reznor's new music project, available for free digital download through their website. (An HD option for $2 is also available) Nine Inch Nails called it quits last summer with their much-publicized "Wave Goodbye" tour. Having regretfully missed my last opportunity to see them due to financial hardships, I found myself wondering what our friend Trent was up to in the meantime. Although I am more a fan of Nine Inch Nails' work from the 90's than later, when I heard he had a new group, I decided to check it out; after all, he's a talented guy.

First of all, it is indeed named after the Coil single of the same name, for which I have to give them props. Second of all, the group brought art director Rob Sheridan on board, who was previously responsible for the stunning artwork behind Nine Inch Nails releases Things Falling Apart and Year Zero. We also have Atticus Ross onboard, who has worked with Tim Simenon of Bomb The Bass, Barry Adamson formerly of Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, and also fronted his own project on Nothing Records, 12 Rounds. How To Destroy Angels is undoubtedly an endless roster of talent and a vast array of musical influence. It's little wonder that when I first clicked on the download, my expectations were high....and thus, they were not met.

While I am not completely disappointed, I'm also not impressed; as a die-hard NIN fan, I hate to say it, but I expected better from someone who was responsible for the 1994 masterpiece The Downward Spiral. The opening track, "Fur-Lined," kicks off without ado into a surprisingly canned-sounding drum beat and distorted female vocals courtesy of Reznor's wife, Mariqueen Maandig, formerly of West Indian Girl. The last minute of the song meanders into vaguely NIN-esque guitar work, but lacks the layers that made Reznor's previous work so spectacular.

By the second track, "Parasite," I can vaguely draw a parallel to post-Fragile Nine Inch Nails, and almost expect to hear Reznor's familiar growling vocals over lurching synths. The buildup crashes into minimal drums and female vocals but I found myself already getting it confused with the first track. "BBB" has a little more promise and texture to it; it turns into a lilting, down-tempo groove with synths that almost sound like they came from the original session files for The Downward Spiral. Unfortunately, the only thing that kills it for me is the title of the song and the vocal hook, "Listen to the sound of my big black boots." "Head Like A Hole" it is not. I could see it as a club remix in the right hands, but would Trent really want that for himself? Would he have wanted it back in NIN's heyday? I'm not so sure.

"The Believers" is one of two tracks off this album which really makes me believe that How To Destroy Angels might allow Trent Reznor and his collaborators the creative freedom to take risks as a musician instead of just picking up where Nine Inch Nails left off. It moves forward in a way that the other tracks do not, in a manner reminiscent of NIN classics like "The Becoming" and "The Perfect Drug." The vocals are less processed, although I still found myself, upon first listen, wishing Trent Reznor would sing, and feel that it ended before we could really be led in further. I was amused to note that the next track, "The Space In Between," starts out with a drum beat reminiscent of a faster "Eraser," but the similarities end there. By the time I formed an opinion about the song, it had ended on an uncertain cadence, leaving me wondering if I missed anything.

The album finishes off with "A Drowning." This is the only track where if you didn't tell me who had done it, I would speculate that perhaps you-know-who had been involved, and thus, the second track that I feel is a worthwhile "Where Are They Now?" chapter for him. Sure enough, it was touched by familiar hands, those of Alan Moulder, who worked with Reznor extensively on Broken and The Downward Spiral among others, and has also worked with Atticus Ross in producing Jane's Addiction, another 1990's heavy-hitter. Even the lyrics sound somewhat familiar to me, an often-visited theme of self-destruction and attempts at salvation from it. Clocking in at just over seven minutes long, it's an interesting end to an album which seems to leave its listeners constantly hanging. Instrumentally and lyrically, I would consider it to be the most developed, especially the last minute, which fades into goosebump-inducing piano and synths, finally recognizable as being borne of Trent Reznor's talents.

It's a shame that this album is mostly full of false starts and, in comparison to Reznor's previous work, undeveloped musical ideas. Maybe it's too soon, or maybe The Downward Spiral was just that good. I applaud the decision to release the album as a free download, which I feel is always a risk (albeit a generous one) given the music industry these days and the hordes of listeners who refuse to pay a dime for any musician's blood, sweat, and tears. I'm glad to see that Trent Reznor is still working on music instead of just sitting around watching football and letting all his musical gifts go to waste. However, I was expecting something more innovative, more epic, more proof that he needed to move beyond Nine Inch Nails in order to do something better. Fifteen years ago (how time flies...), he first raised the bar for himself with an album that I still consider to be one of the greatest examples of electronic music since Kraftwerk's Autobahn. The production of this album was truly a magnum opus for both Flood and Reznor and I knew at age thirteen, upon first listening, that nothing would ever be better. I played that album so incessantly that I went through two copies because the first one got so scratched.

However, that's no excuse to sell yourself short in your later years; there is always new ground to be broken. I think the most surreal and anticlimactic thing about this album is the strange feeling that if I didn't know who was behind it, I might think, "This sounds kinda like Nine Inch Nails." By all means, it should at least be as good as Nine Inch Nails, given the guy behind the curtain. But it's just not. Is it worth $2 for an HD lossless download and a cool JPEG of the album artwork for your iPod? Sure, and if you like down-tempo electronic music, you'll appreciate it. Is it a true indication of Trent Reznor's brilliance? No. As long as you don't expect it to be, by all means, give it a listen.

Album Review: Recoil, "Selected"

Recoil's Selected: Remixed, Remastered...Required

Mute Records 2010


For those who are unfamiliar, Recoil is the brainchild of former Depeche Mode member Alan Wilder, the man who turned the unpolished demo of "Enjoy The Silence" into the club stomper that we know it as today and contributed significantly to one of the most influential bands of the electronic music world, from the haunting throb of the bass line of "In Your Room" to the notorious samples in "Fly On The Windscreen". If Depeche Mode in the 80's and 90's were a piece of homemade chocolate cake in a world of Twinkies, then Wilder's involvement in the band was the icing on top.

He first founded Recoil in 1986 as a self-described alternative to the constraints of Depeche Mode's pop format. Ten years later, Wilder started his own studio, The Thin Line, and began developing Recoil into something which many have called a cinematic experience, far more involved- and evolved- than just a simple "side project." Stylistically, the music touches on the symphonic, with swelling strings and stark keys, keeping you guessing. Yet, it also delves frequently into trip-hop and blues as a result of Wilder's collaborations with artists like blues singer Joe Richardson and spoken word genius Nicole Blackman. When you add the same dramatic flair that he brought to Depeche Mode (and mix it with the chops of a classically trained pianist to boot), while it might not be music for the masses, it still creates an unforgettable impact on the listener.

As an avid Depeche Mode fan and a curious consumer of previous Recoil albums such as SubHuman, Liquid, and Unsound Methods, I was thrilled when I heard that Wilder and Co. would be releasing a double CD this spring; the first one entitled "Selected" and the second one "Remixed," featuring the magic touch of frequent collaborator Paul Kendall, Alan Wilder himself, a few newcomers to the Recoil group, and even a remix by Bon Harris of Nitzer Ebb. Mute Records also released the album on vinyl, as well as a limited-edition box set and a downloadable release. The album also coincided with a tour known as "A Strange Hour With Alan Wilder And Paul Kendall," a multimedia experience showcasing live arrangements of Recoil tracks and performances by special guest artists throughout Europe and the United States.

The first CD contains an assortment of previous Recoil material chosen by the man himself, a sort of "greatest hits" compilation. It starts out with "Strange Hours," a blues-y number featuring Diamanda Galas, followed by an unforgettable cover of the Alex Harvey Band's "Faith Healer," on which Douglas McCarthy of Nitzer Ebb makes an impressive vocal appearance. Other gems include the swirling, pulsing psychedelia of "Shunt," an excerpt from one of the tracks co-written with Joe Richardson, "The Killing Ground," and the hauntingly beautiful "Red River Cargo." All in all, Wilder's "Selected" tracks are a perfect introduction to new Recoil fans and a familiar assortment to everyone else.

The second CD is where it gets really interesting; it is a kaleidoscope of musical stylings and arrangements which I have been listening to incessantly on my iPod for nearly a month now because it's just that good. Paul Kendall creates a lurching, synth-drenched atmosphere with the "True Romance" mix of "Supreme," which fools us into thinking we can sit back for a while and just chill out, until the relentless strains of the "Shotgun" mix of "Prey" put us back on the edges of our seats. Both the "Poison Dub" mix of "Drifting" and the "Filthy Dog" mix of "Jezebel" take on a curiously urban, gritty edge, the latter leaning slightly into a drum n' bass feel. From that point on, we are plunged into pure and glorious deconstruction with the "Noisy Church" mix of "Allelujah" (the original track is on the first CD as well) and the "Solid State" mix of "Killing Ground."

Not all of the remixes were created by Alan Wilder or Paul Kendall, however; Goldfrapp's Davide Rossi "reinterprets" the Wilder/Richardson gem "5000 Years" as a mostly instrumental arrangement with the "Romanian Elegy For Strings" mix. This is truly one of those tracks that makes you stop whatever else you're doing and sit in one place, just to listen and let it wash over you.

If you are impressed by Rossi's work, you'll be pleased to hear it again on "Strange Hours '10," which features Rossi in collaboration with The Verve's Nick McCabe and Simon Jones, a project known as The Black Ships. Hot on its heels is a dreamy reworking of "Missing Piece" and, to close the album, experimental electronic duo Pan Sonic's mix of "Shunt." Listen very closely (and watch your ears if you keep the volume loud!) and you'll hear something new every time.

One of the things that I've always appreciated about Recoil is how much of a collaborative process it is, like a collage of sound and talent; Alan Wilder is constantly finding new directions to go in and new people to do it with. If you pay attention and examine your Recoil album liner notes closely, you're guaranteed to find all sorts of interesting musicians to read up on and hear more of. As a fellow electronic musician, I find this approach to be not only inspiring but refreshing as well. This album stands strong both as a solid introduction to Recoil, and as a stunning example of the many different ways you can approach a remix.

Recoil finished up their US leg of the "Strange Hours" tour in mid-May but have hinted at a more extensive tour in the fall. For more information, visit Shunt, the official Recoil site, at http://www.recoil.co.uk.

Recoil show review: New York City (May 18, 2010)

So as my first post to this blog, here are some thoughts I had after the Recoil performance last Tuesday at Le Poisson Rouge in New York City (which is an excellent venue, by the way; check them out!). It was truly one of the best weeks I've had in a while, as wiped out as I am! It starts as a review of the show and mutates a bit into a commentary on art and music...oh well, enjoy anyway!

"I'm Gonna Walk Up To Heaven..." Recoil Live At LPR, NYC


To make what is possibly the understatement of the century, I think all the Shunt-heads and Modies in New York were waiting for this night with bated breath...and it was worth it!

Unfortunately, Douglas McCarthy couldn't make it because of the unpronounceable volcano which has sidelined so many people in Europe (anyone want to make t-shirts that say "Blame Bjork"? Aw, I'm just kidding, Bjork), but it was still a very special show.

The set kicked off with a performance by the now-infamous blues guy Joe Richardson. It's always funny to see a musician live after hearing them and not knowing what they look like. Joe looked exactly as I pictured he would; a self-described ponytailed hippie with a beat-up old Strat, just hanging out playing us some tunes. After telling the story of how he met Alan and began working with him, he conducted us all in a rousing audience-participation rendition of "5000 Years" as well as "The Killing Ground" and "Prey" and, as a bonus, a track from his own album. He reminded me a little bit of R.L. Burnside and I really enjoyed it.

Then it got dark, save for some flashing lights and rumbling bass with an appropriately ambient quality to it... and then the footage started. It was the Shotgun mix of "Prey," complete with a pretty cool propaganda/Pop Art-esque projection that reminded me a little of Brute's artwork. One of the things I was particularly curious about with the Recoil performance was not just the live manipulation of the songs (courtesy of Ableton Live, which I'm a big fan of!), but the visual side of it too. As a film geek, I always like being able to see something cool to go along with what I'm hearing.

I also think that when it comes to electronic music, which tends to be minimal as far as stage presence (the bad stereotype is of "some dude with a synthesizer and a laptop." Personally, I find nothing wrong with that!), you can't underestimate the power of compelling eye candy, whether it's Nicole Blackman flinging articles of jewelry into the crowd or HR Giger. Incidentally, within the Recoil/Mode crowd, there seems to be appreciation for both! I've always been curious about Nicole Blackman's work and admittedly, am not hugely familiar- but after seeing her perform, I definitely plan to change that. Her contribution to "Liquid" was actually one of the things that I first found so compelling about Recoil. It rounds out the whole experience as having a human, organic, almost cinematic quality to it.

The other high points included "Stalker" (to which someone in the crowd yelled, "That's right, play his songs even though he's not here!" We all laughed), the "Aggro" mix of "Never Let Me Down Again," and an absolutely unforgettable version of "The Killing Ground" with Joe Richardson- harmonica and Strat in tow- back onstage to join in, which had the whole place stomping. Then of course, we were treated to "Warm Leatherette" at the end (this time it was ME yelling, "YES!" Sorry, it slipped out) and "Shunt" being blasted at epic, lurching, rumbling, arm-hair-raising volume...perfect!

Visually, I loved what they did. I assumed they might have used some sort of video DJ software, similar to Max/Jitter, but it turns out that it was just well-edited and fit the songs really well. I liked how the new Recoil artwork and some of the original Recoil videos were incorporated into the mix.

After the show, there was a meet and greet. The place was packed! Alan and PK were both absolute princes, truly wonderful to talk to, and Nicole Blackman was a trip; she's a really cool woman! (She does talk fast though! I was expecting her to start auctioning off items in the room or something... :-P ) My band mate Kneel and I hung out for a while and got to talk to many different people from the tour. It was truly an honor and a privilege. I can't even begin to explain what this meant for me; what generous, humble people they all are, and how cool it was to be a part of that...to see firsthand how much Alan and his collaborators value the people who come to see, hear, and support them. Beyond that, to see how much they include them; the fact that they borrowed a synth from a fan proves it! (and gives me a case of MS-20 envy to boot...sigh...!)

I had an interesting discussion with Kneel and a promoter who we'd just met, about the attendance at the show. We were talking about how, in short, sometimes the best market is a niche market, because you essentially have a guaranteed audience for life...that for an event like this, they did pretty goddamn good! You don't have to be Bruce Springsteen or Madonna to make an impact on people, you know. (Nothing against them, of course) And maybe sometimes, it's better to just roll with that and do what you can with what you have. I was somewhat amused by the Village Voice listing for the show, which proclaimed, "Alan Wilder (Depeche Mode)". How many more people did that magical phrase, nested inside parentheses, draw? The world will never know, and personally, I don't think that's really our thesis statement here. The bottom line is, people were there to see and hear Recoil...and what a show!

I mean, what do I know? I've been happily wedged into the electronic music "scene" for almost 15 years and thus, maybe I'm the wrong person to talk to about how to sell out shows at The Meadowlands. Sorry, guys. But I do know that quite a lot of the people who like Depeche Mode, REALLY like Depeche Mode...with Violator rose tattoos and massive vinyl collections to prove it. And I know that the people who REALLY like Depeche Mode, REALLY like Alan and might even REALLY like Recoil. So what does that REALLY tell you? It tells you that the root of the electronic music formula is exactly what Recoil has been so hugely successful at: collaboration...a sort of "six degrees" game, where you can literally connect all your favorite musicians and artists just like a family tree. It tells you that we don't need reunion tours or crowds of 50,000 to be successful.

I could also compare it to the film world. You have your indie films with your smaller budgets which are still greatly appreciated, sometimes to a "cult classic" degree and an enthusiasm rarely seen for the big, epic, 3-hour blockbusters. Then you have your, well, 3-hour blockbusters. Can we say that James Cameron is more successful or more popular than Kevin Smith? Wait, what? Exactly. You have your apples, and your oranges. Mmm, apples. So there you have it. Recoil has a loyal following for good reason, not all of which has to do with that band that he used to be in. ;-) And you don't need sweaty guys with guitars onstage to make a show memorable. Sometimes all it takes after all, is a couple of dudes with laptops and a synth; something cool to look at, and something cool to hear...it's as simple as that.

The music of Recoil continues to blow my mind with all the different directions it has gone in, each to worthwhile and memorable effect. Who would have ever guessed that you could combine the blues with spoken word, or with synthesizers, for that matter? Is life itself so straightforward that we can only describe it with one word? I doubt it! Recoil as a multimedia project, to me, reflects the intricacies of the human experience in a way that goes beyond one-word genre descriptions and reaches way beyond what most people would ever try to come up with.

I have to admit that the first time I heard "Grain" off of Hydrology, it brought me to tears, as did "Red River Cargo" off Subhuman for that matter. It made me want to run, not walk, home, and work on music...or, in the case of "Grain," to sit down at the piano and play...but it also made me want to slow down and enjoy life, to watch the sunset and listen to the wind through the trees and pet my cat, instead of worrying about work and money and perpetuating the struggle to survive in this city. These songs are decades apart from each other and quite different in style, but they each have a soulful, raw quality to them that got right in there and tugged at my heartstrings. I dare any Top 40 hit to do the same; these days, it's unlikely. Similarly, sometimes it's easier to lose yourself in the moment when you're in a small space with one of your favorite musicians, surrounded by a few hundred instead of a few thousand. It gives the experience an intimate quality which I think is hard to come by in a stadium, especially when you've got nosebleed seats and some tall guy is standing in front of you!

Well done, Alan, Paul, and all else involved in the tour. I will never forget this Strange Hour; it looked and sounded amazing, and left me very inspired. As for the chance to finally meet a few of the people who have made this incredible music which has changed my life, it was a beautiful moment. Thank you!

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