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  <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:chmod</id>
  <title>Ichabod Chmod</title>
  <subtitle>Ichabod Chmod</subtitle>
  <author>
    <name>Ichabod Chmod</name>
  </author>
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  <updated>2003-02-03T14:08:08Z</updated>
  <lj:journal userid="388588" username="chmod" type="personal"/>
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  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:chmod:2273</id>
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    <title>chmod @ 2003-02-03T06:07:00</title>
    <published>2003-02-03T14:08:08Z</published>
    <updated>2003-02-03T14:08:08Z</updated>
    <content type="html">I got the news from my friend Jennifer back home. When I picked up the phone she was already crying, and I couldn't understand what she was saying. I kept asking her what was wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She finally squeezed it out. "Thomas is dead."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shock is not the word to describe my reaction. I was calm, unaffected. "How?" I asked her quickly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Badly," she paused, no longer crying, "Iggy, you have to come home."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ok." I hung up the phone. I went immediately into my bedroom and began to put some things in a bag. It was not long before I was in my car driving. It was a 12 hour drive to the town where I grew up. I could fly part way and save myself about 8 of those hours, but it was already evening and I couldn't get on a flight till the following afternoon. So I drove. I felt drunk, numb. I didn't stop on the way for anything except gas and cigarettes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I got to town I went straight to Jennifer's. She lived in a one room apartment over some guy's garage. She answered the door wearing a robe, and after letting me in silently she started making coffee. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What's going on?" I asked, once she had sat down with me at the tiny table in the corner. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't know Iggy, they won't tell me anything. Thomas is dead. Billy will be here in a little while, maybe he'll tell you something, god knows he hasn't told me anything. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ok." I was silent for a while, and took a sip of coffee. "How're you?"</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:chmod:1839</id>
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    <title>The Beginning</title>
    <published>2003-01-21T07:06:07Z</published>
    <updated>2003-01-21T07:06:07Z</updated>
    <content type="html">I was alone. I do not know why I remember that. I was alone, but there were people around. There were people everywhere. They were different though, like they were somewhere else. Or maybe I was somewhere else. I do not know. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was April. It was raining. I was outside. I was trying clumsily to keep my cigarette from getting wet. Then I started to cry. It is the only time that I can remember crying since when I was a kid. I sat on the ground. Soaking wet I continued to cry. Then, I looked up at the sky. I watched as the rain fell. As it washed away my warm tears, replacing them with the freezing water. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stood. I threw away my now expired cigarette and pulled out a new one. I lit it and smoked it slowly before going back inside. I grabbed a towel and a cup of coffee and I went back to work.</content>
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  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:chmod:1787</id>
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    <title>chmod @ 2002-04-12T18:48:00</title>
    <published>2002-04-13T01:48:59Z</published>
    <updated>2002-04-13T01:48:59Z</updated>
    <content type="html">&lt;p&gt;I've always tried to put living my life fully above almost everything else. I attempt to experience all of the good things of life, and take all of the bad things in stride. I believe this to be a good strategy, frankly I'm not sure if I ever want to be "happy" it seems like it might be boring. Like the quote goes, "life is pain, you just get used to it." So I grab every moment of pleasure I get, knowing it is fleeting. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;One of these days I'll start posting here more regularly, that day is not today.&lt;/p&gt;</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:chmod:1473</id>
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    <title>Yesterday was my birthday. Birthdays can bite me.</title>
    <published>2002-03-18T15:45:32Z</published>
    <updated>2002-03-18T15:45:32Z</updated>
    <content type="html">&lt;p&gt;I'm not actually that cynical, I just don't like my birthday. All in all this wasn't a half bad birthday though, I went over to Tom and Rose's, we ordered pizza and watched episodes of &lt;em&gt;I Dream of Jeanie&lt;/em&gt; on TiVo, hooray for TV Land, and hooray for TiVo. We were going to watch &lt;em&gt;Leprechaun&lt;/em&gt; in honor of St. Patty's day, but Rose out voted us macho male men. Oh wait no, we decided it was a crappy movie about 10 minutes in and switched to Jeanie.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I have to go to work now. Only 3 years, 7 months, 15 days and 9 hours before I'm independently wealthy. &lt;/p&gt;</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:chmod:1042</id>
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    <title>chmod @ 2002-01-19T11:36:00</title>
    <published>2002-01-19T19:42:22Z</published>
    <updated>2002-01-19T19:42:22Z</updated>
    <content type="html">&lt;p&gt;"Hey asshole!" She calls out from behind me. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I ignore her, choosing to keep walking without so much as flinching. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;"Hey asshole!" She shouts again.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I stop. Looking down I close my eyes tightly for a second, panged. I'm about to start walking again.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;"Turn the fuck around." She's right behind me. I turn slowly, still looking mostly at the ground. She starts talking, I hardly listen. I know what she's saying, I've heard it before. I can't care. I look anywhere but at her, the ground, the sky, the buildings, the cars on the street, the people passing by us. The people give us funny looks, but they keep to their business. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I watch as a man comes out of the building and lights up a cigarette. He's old, but not as old as he looks. Tired, and worn he stands there puffing away. He looks at nothing, oblivious to everything around him. His peace while he stands there smoking is beautiful and I long for it. The spell is broken, he puts his cigarette out on the ground and looks around nervously before going back inside. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;She's done. I look down at her, there is a look of pain and disgust on her face. I say nothing and we stand there looking at each other. "Fuck you!" She says as she turns and walks away. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I go home. &lt;/p&gt;</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:chmod:583</id>
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    <title>chmod @ 2002-01-17T10:08:00</title>
    <published>2002-01-17T18:13:22Z</published>
    <updated>2002-01-17T18:13:22Z</updated>
    <content type="html">&lt;p&gt;Iggy, I've got a confession to make.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;What'd you do dad? You didn't spike the punch bowl again did you? &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Iggy, this may be hard for you to understand, but Iggy, I'm your father.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Dad, you've lived here my whole life as my father, I call you dad, what the hell?&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I didn't think you knew. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;That's great dad. &lt;/p&gt;</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:chmod:260</id>
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    <title>chmod @ 2001-12-12T01:23:00</title>
    <published>2001-12-12T09:24:00Z</published>
    <updated>2001-12-12T09:24:00Z</updated>
    <content type="html">&lt;p&gt;There once was a man name Ichabod Chmod. He had a frog named Bob Chmod. Bob gamboled out in front of traffic and lost. *SPLAT!* Poor Bob. Ichabod chased after Bob. Ichabod was hit by a car and got his lower spine all disjointed (&lt;font color="red"&gt;that's not cool&lt;/font&gt;) so his hips weren't attached properly anymore. But he was hanged anyway. (Aren't you glad I didn't say "hung"?) So we needn't worry about Ichabod. But Bob bit it and went to heaven -- which is where we found Bob. In Ichabod's pants!&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p align="right"&gt;Love, Bob.&lt;/p&gt;</content>
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