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They grow up so fast. Beidzot saņēmos un apgreidoju savu veco Thinkpad X61 pret jaunu vecu T410. Jau iemetu savu SSD un tas prieks lido. Vēl laiciņš jāpagaida un kādu dienu man būs jauns vecs W520.
Mūzika:
Rick Astley - Never Gonna Give You Up
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izolēta istaba Rīgas centrā
Ilgtermiņā, sākot no 20.10.2014, gados jaunam cilvēkam (līdz 35 gadu robežai) tiek izīrēta 1 izolēta istaba ar mēbelēm 3 istabu dzīvoklī Rīgas centrā, Avotu un Bruņinieku ielas stūris.
Ieeja no pagalma puses, 1.stāvs, autonomais gāzes apkures katls, veļasmašīna, ledusskapis, mikroviļņu krāsns, duškabīne, PVC logi, WI-FI, lamināta grīda, dzelzs durvis, ir iespēja pagalmā novietot automašīnu. Mājdzīvnieki (puķes neskaitās) dzīvoklī nav pieļaujami.

Maksa – 130 EUR (ievācoties jāmaksā par pirmo un pēdējo mēnesi) + komunālie maksājumi.

Ja ir interese, raksti uz saulains.laiks@hotmail.com

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2 biļetes uz 26. oktobra Mogwai konci Braitonā kopā par 40,-EUR.
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nenormaali aizkustinaaja tas, ka dziivokljabiedrene pateica, ka manii esot kaut kas no vilka (vai tu gadiijumaa nesastopies ar vilku atteeliem, vai iistajiem vilkiem?)
Tik cool. Vinja ir ljoti forsha. Mees nedaudz no viensotras raustamies, jo mums ir diametraali sveshas pasaules tomeer ljoti daudz kaa kopiiga. Vinja ir stipras street sieviete. Ir bijushas nedeeljas, kad katru dienu 2, 3 citi buudiigi viirieshi patusee un paliek uz diivaaniem pa nakti. Nu, protams, vinja ir zaales avots. Es tikai reizeem ievelku pa duumam. Otrais dziivoklja biedrs ir vinjas beerniibas draugs, vinsh ir nenormaali laipns un jauks pret mani, vienmeer iznaak no istabas parunaaties, ja dzird, ka es maajaas. Velta tik daudz uzmaniibas, ka man liekas es vinjam diezgan patiiku. Te ir dazhaadi vinja muuzikas instrunenti virtuvee, un reizeem vinsh apseezhas un saak vnk improvizeet ar gjitaaru. Vinsh arii intereseejaas par austrumu kultuuru, ciinjaam, abi saakushi 2x dienaa iet uz sporta zaali. Es esmu saakusi piipeet. Mees nevaram viensotram pieskarties, jo man ir kauns ka dzirdeeju ka naktsviduu vinsh pieceelaas kameer man bija cieminsh bet es vairs nevareeju satureeties, rimties. Es vinju apskasvu dzimshanas dienaa kopaa ar ninni, bet vinsh tik ljoti rsustaas.. labpraat vienu vakaru aizietu uz blakus istabu, vinsh taapat neveikdmiigi novecojushaas attieciibaas, un mans ir taalu prom, bet mees paaraak naivi un jauki. Varbuut tas taa arii paliks. Treshaa meitene celjas 5os no riita un iet guleet 10os (neesmu tad veel maajaas), vinjai fascinee un biedee mana maakdla, vinja ir botaanikje, bet jauka, jo iznes visas miskastes no riitiem. Nujā, man te tiešām patīk! Kaut dārgi, bet par tonedomāju, jo drīz būs labi apmaksāts darbs lv. R mani ljoti, ljoti dziedee. Varu tikaicereet, ka daru to pashu. Mega miilestiiba, vnk vinsh to vairaas atklaatl jo ir lepns par savu struktureetiibu un kontroli paar sevi. Es jau sen nemeegjinu kontroleet sevi.
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pāris čaļi no Melburnas smuki grabina.
pagaidām labākais jaunatklājums no (pre-)festa grupu listēm.
Garastāvoklis::
jaunā trailer park boys sezona
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fucking me
Bļaģ, šodien (kopš pamošanās) 5h mocīja kaut kas starp vēdergripu, sliktu dūšu un daudzām relatīvi īslaicīgām migrēnām (3-5 min garām). No sevis izdalīju tik daudz šķidruma, ka tagad rehidrējos, guļot vannā un sūcot asexual mohito. Bet man ir tāda sajūta, ka vemšana un caureja joprojām ir tur, un ka dzīvs esmu pateicoties pretvemšanas un pretcaurejas tabletēm, kas man, saprotams, nebija līdzi.
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Paldies, ka dāvāji mums nožēlojamajiem cilvēkiem ideju par uzpīpēšānu, ak, visu vareais Evolūcij
 

līdz galam *neiztulkoti* baušļa panti:
Mūsu Evolūcij debesīs,
Svētīts lai top Tavs vārds

Lai nāk Evolūcijas  valstība,
Tavs prāts lai notiek
Kā debesīs, tā arī virs zemes.
Mūsu dienišķo maizi dod mums šodien
Un piedod mums mūsu parādus,
Kā arī mēs piedodam saviem parādniekiem.
Un neieved mūs kārdināšanā,
Bet atpestī mūs no ļauna,
Āmen!


Ja nebūtu cigarešu, mums nebūtu tik daudz pierādījumu, ka New World Order jau ir infitrējušās dažādās industrijās, ieskaitot valstu institūcijās, kas uzrauga šo industriju darbību. Tāpēc ar cigaretēm darīs visu, nokrāsos paciņas gaiši zilas, turpmāk tām nebūs vārdu, bet katrs brends atšķirsies ar citu ciparu tā vārda jeb nosaukuma vietā. "Man lūdzu cigaretes nr.2!" Bet reāli tās turpinās bāzt mums sejā gandrīz uz katra stūra - visos pārtikas veikalos, kur kasieres strādā aiz "modernās konveijera principa kases" galdiņa. Un tam blakus atradīsies cīgas. Cīgas, kas nogalina tevi un tavu veselību. "Lūdzu nepīpējiet tās, jo mēs esam valsts un drīkstam darīt tev pārci, kamēr tas ir mūsu interesēs, mēs uz paciņām uzrakstījām daudz lakoniskus variantus par to, kāpēc nevajadzētu smēķēt, bet lai tās cigaretes, kartoniem cigarets, tonnām cigaretes šajā plauktā, kam tu ej garām katru dienu, cearams, neatkgādinātu par to, cik sasodīti patīkami ir smēķēt. *puff puff pass*
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erghhh
Man šķiet, ka es pamazām kļūstu par nihilistu.
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urght
Ja izrādītos, ka ir Dievs, man paliktu slikta dūša, un es sāktu vemt.
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eji
Kas jums pret mani ir? Nekā jums nav. Nekā.
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atkla jua
Dear Ms Freimanis.
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līdz sestdienai uz Holandi pēc laimes. Pirmo reizi kaut kur divatā ar mammu. Hm, tam jābūt jauki.
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Bet tā, es kompānijā noskaidroju, ka tā ir Somiska vientulība, kas piemetusies.
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story about Signe
Signe is ignoring me probably because my last letter just blew her mind away. It seems to have had an eye opening effect on her. I imagine it was like a psychedelic impression of herself tripping on a bit larger amount than the known LD of psilocybe. If there's such a thing as LD of it. But have no worries, this post won't be about drugs, though as it may seem so in the beginning. As it's only the beginning, so I must warn you - would you kindly understand the idea that it has no end? But now it's not the time to talk about that. As the words flow just because of her. So to find comfort one may think of this as a tribute to her or an analysis of our quite unorthodox relationship, that is if we can still use the world "relationship" in the case of me versus her.

Material that came from her dormant garden full of fresh little hidden psilocybe semilanceata that has the same meaning as a little boys open mouth to a catholic priest. This information... so critical... + 2d4 potential heart piercing damage with 10% crit possibility which in case of bad dexterity saving throw sets the enemy aflame dealing 1d6 fire damage per turn (max 10 turns; and the amount is dependant on, first, the size of characters penis and, second, the amount of ingested psychedelic compound that all in all is in constant battle with her relatively small statue; oh please, I beg you god, don't let her grow fat, don't let her grow fat and wide, she's not a "babushka", nor she's a sexy gypsy lady that usually after her firstborn grows far and wide beyond any reason and understanding of modern science; although dianetics have made things a bit more clearer as they sayeth that the cause of this mystical fattening of body is directly linked to lack of happiness and self-esteem).

I feel I must apologize about such an unusually large amount of vital information squished in-between two parenthesis. I am not a writer. My profession is pathetic compared to the one of writers, and it can be observed even with an untrained eye by just taking a glance at this shithole that is my diary, trying to be written in the new language of the world.

So back to Signe we go. She has always been kind of a material girl - a person stuck between two realities, her blood bound to this world of physical manifestation, but her soul stuck somewhere in-between the shaft of the elevator and the exact floor she persuaded the machine to take her to. But unlike the enlightened illuminati high priestess, the whoremother Madonna, Signe hasn't deserved none of it. I mean the suffering that comes with this world that she's still trying to embrace. Trying hard every second of her life, so hard that even in the nighttime she's bound to serve this so called and totally overrated "reality". She even dreams of herself performing different non-menial tasks that the consumerist world is asking politely her to do (usually politeness is a synonym for "money"). Note the words "asking politely". The simplest and most effective way to control a persons will would be the words - "Would you kindly... my dear?"

Exploited kindly throughout her life until her muscles grow weak, her spirit slowly fades away from the seemingly countless years she has suffered through while half of her being is stuck in that shaft of unbearable stench formed by urine, feces and the steam vents that exhaust air from apartments in this very same shaft forming aromas of random dishes that mostly reminds me of mashed potatoes with different additives that make them feel exquisite to our taste buds, but in reality are nothing more than chemically made powders that our mothers with or without intention to kill are poisoning us with. Our guiltless mothers with their guts spilled out on the table and words still sitting warm in their throats: "Dinner is ready." That stench. Seems as it throughout the years has cut through our colourful auras, making way to all kind of disease and disorder. I had a friend called Yonas. He's gone now.

But I'm not the one who blames. And I've never been. It may seem the opposite, and it may suit me as a person that usually points the finger and laughs. But it's just my way of telling to world that I see. That I still want to believe. And laughter is just another method of self-preservation. It's one of most human responses there is. And it has always been like that. Pour me another shot of laudanum, dear bartender, as I have lost the will to go on, to keep going. My limbs and the will to survive - they have grown strangely unfamiliar with one another. But as a means to tell the world that they shall not bury me yet my fingers still make these twitching movements few times per hour or in some cases - per day; Or is it just kind of an autonomous response to the world that I have no idea of? Maybe it's their way of begging to "let me out", and the only method they could possibly know is taking the pressure off, taking the pressure out of me by opening a some sort of a canal in my skull that leads directly to my brain and doing it with an instrument that is not designed for this task. Rather it's purpose is to pierce hearts so alleviating the pressure that has formed there by, in peoples terms, love. I actually have little to no idea what I'm rambling about. Therefore I shall return to the main cause and the main answer, one in another and another in one - Signe.

Why is she still here? What keeps her going? What are the terms, the conditions that makes her behave like that? Is it just simple brain chemistry? Or is it something else? She's too shy to provide me with an answer. But I shall not stop digging for I have not seen any other path worthy for me to follow as the one mentioned in my ramblings here. What makes the human in us and what is that or those things that unmakes the human in us? As the mother I've never had once whispered into my ear: "There's a hidden lake of crystal clear water below all the possessions we've hoarded throughout the years, and just one tiny drop of this water on our tongues will undo the unbearable suffocation of these things that define us. Usually until there's a pile of flesh left - the only reminder that once there was a person that existed."

Not the things.

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I have been so honest
Garastāvoklis::
Vulnerable
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♫ liels lohs ♪
Sursurs ir lohs.
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Rodas tāds nenopietns video, videojot tos jūsu video

@TvNet.
rakstā (un pat virsrakstā), starp citu, Artusu Kaimiņu sauc par Arturu Kaimiņu - ne tikai žurnāliste, bet arī kolēģis Bondars.
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mīļie un dārgie,

šo6dien bez vēlēšanām ir arī m. dzimšanas diena, uz kuru mēs labprāt jūs uzaicinātu (dienas otrajā pusē pēc, teiksim, diviem). adresi atgādinu pēc pieprasījuma. pēc pieprasījuma atbildu arī uz citiem jautājumiem.

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Divas vīriešu rudens cepures
Tā īsti nekad nevalkātas, līdz ar to gluži pa velti komūnā nepostēju, tāpēc lai iet par kādām maznaudiņām, teiksim 10 €. 
Abas derēs visnotaļ lielam galvas apkārtmēram. 

Pirmā 

Kopskats (brūnā skujiņveida) 

Otrā 

Gandrīz aimzirsu - Rīgā, centrā, gandrīz jebkurā laikā.
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interesanti, ka visnaidīgākie dzeinai veltīti komentāri atrodami satori.lv, nekādos ne delfos.
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