maandag 10 december 2018
She walked with a limp
but was somehow faster than all of us.
I was watching the back of this young womans head
bob back and forth as she moved through the
aggressiveness of the holiday crowd.
I was amazed at her simple bravery.
Smoothly stumbling with a lurch, alone amongst the masses,
she seemed to me like a playback show in slow mo –
where even though you know that someone
is just lipsynching along to some crappy popsong or
possibly even a symphony
there is a glimmer of grace in their awkward movements
as you recognize that they are celebrating
a crescendo or the creation
of a fantasy world
all of their own.
woensdag 5 december 2018
I finished what was in my lunchbox and felt better about myself.
I tore the mandarijn peel into tiny tiny little pieces then through them in the garbage
and felt better about myself.
I looked the apple in the eye and smiled before biting into it and felt better about myself.
I helped an old muslim woman fix her umbrella today and felt better about myself.
I kept my eyes on myself in the gym this morning and felt better about myself.
I planned on folding the laundry today but never got around to it and felt ok with myself.
I have pre-prepared a homemade eggplant parmigiana for dinner tonight and felt better about myself while constructing this delicious fact.
I listened to a friends musical recommendation and felt better about myself for doing so.
I am currently doing more or less what I am supposed to be doing with myself and pat myself on the shoulders for doing just that.
zondag 2 december 2018
As a city
reflects back upon
Haarlemtown ik zit dwars in mijn gevoel for you, sitting sideways in my stool behind my desk on the Doelstraat, in the middle but removed from you, dreaming away my daze in my Irrational Library ways, sometimes wondering do I still love you Haarlemtown or heb ik nu en hekel pest on you Haarlemtwon. After 18 years being here, present together with you my Haarlemtown I have begun to feel that our relationship once so intimate is now a bit distant Haarlemtown. Living together but apart in Haarlemtown. I am lucky to know so many of the people who make up Haarlemtown but what is it that I actually know about so much of Haarlemtown.
From behind the Irrational Library shop window on the Doelstraat I watch you walk on by Haarlemtown,
Haarlemtown our quiet and content conformist cultuurstad
Haarlemtown and its bloated idea of being a bloemenstad
A white washed overpriced this could be anywhere
this could be everywhere winkelstad
A 2ndhand vulture vinylstad
An overcrowded AirBnB and boutique hotel stad
A sugarcoated Popstad
A Jazz en more of what? stad
Haarlemtown a schizophrenic used and abused
whore of a stad.
Haarlemtown, a four star city with a 5 star zelfbeeld, stad.
A city full of white washed lifestyle winkels
crawling with pussy whipped soft cock male shoppers buying
uncharachteristic cadeau’s for domineering dames
hordes of dead eyed consumers from Heemstede and Aardenhout
stumbling zombie like down the Grote Houtstraat
spilling out into the Grotemarkt in Haarlemtown.
Haarlemtown – Sushi city on the Spaarne.
The Thrill Grill leaves this burger non-pulsed, feeling that he is better off by the Wolfhound for a good hamburger or fish and chips in Haarlemtown.
Haarlemtown- from the Nieuwe Gracht to the Ridderstraat plenty of ways to expand ones broekmaat eating crepes longs the Koningstraat in Haarlemtown.
Haarlemtown how many espresso bars do we need to keep all these burgers buzzing like over caffeinatted muggen in Haarlemtown.
Haarlemtown –where financial cutbacks in the healthcare of headcases housed in the psychatric instellingen ‘round Haaarlemtown, keep the police running around like kippen zonder kop looking after all the crazy’s roaming around in Haarlemtown.
It is all cause and effect here in Haarlemtown.
What the fuck no more free parking on Sundays in Haarlemtown.
Bring back the Sunday rest in Haarlemtown.
Are you born and raised in Haarlemtown?, it will be a miracle if you can one day afford to buy a house and raise your own family here in Haarlemtown.
Haarlemtown – nieuwbouw cash cow – every vacant lot eaten up by developers rolling around like pigs in slop all over Haarlemtown.
Haarlemtown, Mara and I wondering if we should cash in and get out of the Leidsebuurt before the real estate bubble bursts in Haarlemtown
– the sale of rijtjeshuisen with jacked up prices scooped up by makellars to be resold, it’s almost as if the cobblestone streets of the Leidsebuurt were filled with fools gold in Haarlemtown.
Haarlemtown, - all the character of the old school neighborhoods almost gone – in Haarlemtown.
No more butcher, no more baker, no more patatje oorlog maker in the buurt in Haarlemtown.
Mario and his Om and his Tante, giving up shop, what a guilty pleasure to have a good snack bar just down the block.
The Happy Snacks and Het Pleintje too, we the lazy in the Leidsebuurt will deeply miss you, and we thank you for all your comfort and care and all that deep fried food.
Haarlemtown, the Koepel reopened as a creative center for the all the overachieving ondeneemers in Haarlemtown
a hip catering tent for the higher education of the hoogschool here in Haarlemtown.
Haarlemtown – who would have ever thought that Haarlem North would one day be the place to be in Haarlemtown.
Haarlemtown - the Slachthuis Buurt wort het new Brooklyn in Haarlemtown
Hey guess what, Facebook just told me that Ijmuiden
is one day going to be
the new Haarlem
instead of Haarlemtown.
Haarlemtown, where its inwoners are
more open to
an influx of Syrian immigrants than
the caravan of gelukseeking advertising yuppies
migrating in from Amsterdam.
Stop calling the 5hoek the fucking new-Jordaan,
Hannes Kuiper, Johnny the 5hoeker, one of the true burgervaders of Haarlemtown.
Haarlemtown, I ramble on in my mixed taal,
my love for you still strong but frustrated in dit geval.
For I am a born again Haarlemmer
whose replanted new york roots
have grown wilder than weeds
under my broken down boots here in Haarlemtown.
and yet I am unsure of how I should feel
about the increasing number of expats with Dutch spouses
buying up all the houses and voorplanting
their seeds here in Haarlemtown.
All these american and british techheads
fleeing Trump or Brexit, a new silicon valley in Haarlemtown.
I liked it better in when
it seemed like I was one of the few degenerate
Americans hiding out and starting over
with a new life and a Dutch wife here in Haarlemtown.
Haarlemtown fuck the ready made and store bought
Do It Yourself in Haarlemtown.
The Mad Daddy’s Barbers keeping the Haarlemtwon men and boys
handsome enough for the ladies to enjoy.
Geertruida records still independent and eigenwijze, standing behind bands that most Gitaarlameers will never have a chance to dislike in Haarlemtown.
The Slachthuis our new home for the musical homegrown spirit in the zo benoemde Popstad that is Haarlemtown,
Haarlem Popscene giving the young bands a chance to shine in dark bars before drunk Haarlemers in Haarlemtown,
Phil and Fay – patron saints to the Popscene and the Poets of Haarlemtowns Underground in the the fantastic pub that is the Wolfhound, in Haarlemtown
The Jan & Piet Museum, the final remanants of De Fietsznfabriek still keeping an eccentric eye open and upon Haarlemtown.
Flinty’s jongerencentrum still giving the kids and immigrants a place to kick back and feel welcome and safe in Haarlemtown.
At Bevridingspop Haarlemtown I see you partying non-stop, getting up to get down, dancing and blowing, imagining that to you are truly free to be in Haarlemtown,
Where it is easier to get your hearing checked then to file an aangifte without having an appointment at the Koudehorn in Haarlemtown.
The Houtfestival, where Haarlemers celebrate the true meaning of vrijheid not on the 5th of May but every year on Fathersday in Haarlemtown.
The Patronaat, even though I never really go out anymore, still my home away from home in Haarlemtown.
The Badhuis Leidsebuurt a lovely place for the buren to meet, with its mixed bag of volunteers, a warm bath of charm in Haarlemtown just down my street.
Haarlemtown, Beermeester Alphenaar tending bar in Lokaal, sorry I still miss the Briljante, where I first fell in love in Haarlemtown.
Haarlemtown my hat off to all my beloved creative cultural instigators in Haarlemtown.
My man of faith, Stads Dominee Tom de Haan leading the Monday morning meditation in the St. Bavo kerk in the middle of all the garbage truck ruckus on the oude groenmarkt in Haarlemtown
Haerlems Boedem, Begane Grond, 37 PK, Nieuwe Vide, keeping culture fresh in Haarlemtown. Jaap Lampe doing his best with the old and the new school of theater in Haarlemtown.
Haarlemtown, in the winter I long for your summer vibe. All of the freaks, geeks and weirdos chilling in the Hout at the Parksessies, we are all part of the same tribe.
And sometimes I do forget to just stop and look around in Haarlemtown.
Willemien Spook, Stadsdichter once told me that you gotta look up and not down to see the beauty of the architecture in Haarlemtown.
Haarlemtown, whatever happened to our underground?
Haarlemtown, the more crowded you get,
the more I wonder if I will always
want to stick around in here Haarlemtown.
For a person like myself needs some space
to be able to create my own pace here in Haarlemtown,
the wife and I still dreaming of a piece of vrijstandland in Haarlemtown.
Yeah, you gotta keep the dream alive in Haarlemtown.
So, let me say this just one more time to you Haarlemtown,
I love ya and I hate ya
but as always
I wanna thank ya
for allowing me and The Irrational Library
to build a home here amongst ya
and for rubbing off on me as much
as I have been rubbing them out
all over you
for the last 18 years.
woensdag 28 november 2018
We, Pippi and I were biking back to the shop the other day – Thursday – yeah Thursday – just two days ago I guess. Seems longer already – well anyway we had just stopped briefly at the Wilsonsplein so Pippi could check out the newly refurbished bike merry-go-round and I said no no no time but… ok quickly cause there is someone waiting for Poppa in the shop and yeah I didn’t want to be a bad Dad, so we stopped at the playground and she was quck about it all and it was cold out, so we got back on the bakfiets and headed to the shop and along the Ged. Raamgracht there was this old man biking infront of us and just as he went to make the turn from the Ged. Raamgracht onto the Doelstraat some guy came bounding down along the sidewalk from the opposite direction. Now this guy was moving at a quick pace, not running but bounding down the sidewalk, waving his arms and yelling, eyes wild and this guy sees the old man there making the turn from the Ged. Raamgracht onto the Doelstraat and starts shouting at him and then bounds right across the corner of the Dolestraat and the Ged. Raamgracht and pushes the old man off his bike – wham! The old man goes down hard onto the sidewalk and the guy is still yelling at the old man and I stop the bakfiets and jump off without thinking twice and start shouting at the guy “What the FUCK are you doing?” and I move to see if the old man is ok and then this guy – eyes ALIGHT comes at me – fits swinging screaming and raving and I’m like – “dude what the fuck are you doing man, back the fuck off!” and the guy is coming at me and I hear Pippi screaming and the guy gets in close and clocks me in the nose and my glasses go flying and blood just starts pouring out of my face and I feel my left knee buckle and I am hearing Pippi screaming and crying and my brain tells me, Josh Josh Josh –Fuck this fucking guy- so I lean in with all of my 3 to 5 days a week Fit for Free middle aged muscle and move to tackle this asshole, taking him down by the legs and somehow I get on top of him and with ski gloved hands start pummeling down upon him and now as I write this I have no idea if I was hitting him in the face or the chest or where or what I was doing but I knew that I was just going to keep punching and trying to keep this guy down and then all of a sudden there is this hand pulling on my left shoulder so I look up and its some fucking construction worker and he is yelling at me to fuck off and to get off of the guy and I am screaming back at him “fuck you! He attacked me!” over and over and over and I think I am still punching and then finally somehow I am pulled off the guy and I stand up and look for my glasses them on the street and I grab them before someone steps on them and then the guy pulls himself up off the sidewalk and starts running up the Doelstraat where at the corner of the Doelstraat and the Lange Lakenstraat he just stops in front of the Bolster office and pulls his pants down in front of the door and squats down like he is going to take a shit and then he pulls his pants back up and heads down the Lange Lakenstraat and people from the neighborhood are gathering and I am yelling for someome to call the fucking police as blood is pouring out of my nose and I remove my gloves and try to stop the bleeding with a dirty bandana and Pippi is screaming and crying Poppa Poppa Poppa and I go to her and pick her up but don’t wanna freak her out and get blood all over her and I am trying to explain to her what just happened by saying that the man was probably a bit sick in his head and more neighbors are gathering offering help and asking if I am alright, if Pippi is alright and so woman says “oh gossie” and the old man is thankfully back on his feet and finally the cops show up and start chasing down this crazed guy and people are saying that “he is there, he is there!” and some woman is standing there crying, saying that this guy is her son and that he is normally not like this and that he is a sweet boy and all that they did was smoke some weed and I am hear this am like WTF! and there are neighbors offering Pippi candy and peppernoten and Capri Suns and I am grateful and thank everyone fort heir support and tell them that I am ok and try to explain what the fuck just happened and down the street closer to Jan Monnikendam four cops catch up to the guy and pull him down and get him face down on the cobblestones and the guy is still yelling and sceaming as they try to subdue him and Pippi is thankfully no longer cryinf and she is calming down and I calm down enought to call Esther to come down from the shop and pick Pippi up and she does and she shoots me a look like WTF is going on and I say that I will fill her in in a few minutes and Pippi calmly goes off with Esther to the shop and I am waiting and still no cop comes to talk to me and I am getting a bit impatient honestly so I step up and the female officer says that she will be right with me so I step back and wait and then she comes over to me and I tell her what’s what.
So I do. And the cop asks if I want to do make an aangifte and I am like uh, I don’t know and at that moment I am probably in a bit of shock but am doing my best to play it cool cause yeah like I have an image ya know. Really I was just trying to contain myself and breath. For that very morning I had decided to start meditating, so I am doing my best to stay calm and the cop, she says to me that i can always do an aangifte after the fact, so I say ok, that I would think about it. I am wiping blood from my face and well there is no ambulance or medical assistance offered by any of the cops on the scene and well the female cop was pleasant and professional enough but again WTF. So I say to the crazed guys mother, who apparently doesn’t speak Dutch, that I have a shop up the street and that well when everything calms down if she would please just stop by and explain to me what the fuck had just happened. That I would like to know this and she is crying and apologizing to me and I tell her that it is ok, cause I do that fors ome reason. And then I just turned and walked away.
And as I walk up the Doelstraat it is quiet and my hands are covered in blood and my nose hurts but as far as I can tell doesn’t seem to be broken. I get back in the shop and there are people actually in it and everyone is like what the fuck happened and the guest musician who also grew up in the same hometown and now lives in L.A. yet whom I never meet in person is there and he offers a hand and I show him my blood covered hands and say that an elbow will have to suffice till I can clean myself up and Chris Murphy says, man you just earned some mean street cred and I just laughed and thought man, you just meet me. And I of course call Mara to tell her what happened and she doesn’t pick up and I figure she is busy with work and that is ok and then she calls me back and I begin to tell her the story and when I get to the part about taking the guy down by the knees Mara asks me if I am making this all up, if I am fucking with her and I am like uh no and she says that she is about to start crying and that she is leaving her work that instant and will be by the shop soon. And she says she loves me and I say I love her and that we are ok. And a little bit later two women from the neighborhood who had seen the whole chaos go down came into the shop with a stuffed unicorn, a chocolate lollipop and a mandarin for Pippi and Pippi was of course super happy with the unicorn and the chocolate lolly that she ate right away and of course didn’t want the mandarin and during the instore which was a bit too loud Pippi began to pass out in my lap which was also quite fine and so was the mandarin.
Now, to make a long story just a bit shorter…, I spoke to the cops on the phone the next morning and they were pleasent enough and shared with me whatever info they could. The officer on the phone even asked if I was ok. I said that I was and knew that I even though I thought I was, that I was lying. I asked again about doing an aangifte and the officer on the phone said that the old man had already done one and that the guy, who was a British citizen had become very calm once they got him to the station, that he and his mother were here visitng and that he would have to return to Haarlem on the 9th of February to stand before a judge. What his sentence or fine might be the cop could not say. I was curious who this guy was and yes, what the fuck was going on with him. I couldn’t and still can’t conjure up his face. If I had to sit with a sketch artist I would know where to start. Maybe under hypnosis like in the films I might be able to dredge it out of my subconscious. Anyway, I thanked the cop and hung up the phone. I decided not to go to the gym yesterday instead fell back to sleep on the couch. The adrenaline was up.
When I woke up from my nap I decided that I was going to do the aangifte after all. If the old man had done it I figured that I should as well. So I first dropped some stuff off a the shop and then headed over to the Koudenhorn, where it took the cold and seemingly couldn’t be bothered cop behind the counter 15 minutes to find anything in the system about what had happened, asking me over and over, where did it happen, what happened, where is that what street again. And I was all like, uh sir someone from here called me this morning, not more than three hours earlier to discuss it all with me, so there has to be something in your system about it all and then he just mmm’ed me and hunched his shoulder and took off his fucking reading glasses and rubbed his chin and asked me to take a seat. And yeah 10 minutes later he calls me back to the counter and says, so you want to make an aangifte and I say yes, that since the old man did I thought that I should too. And the cop says that I shouldn’t base what I was going to do on what the old man did and I am like what???? And I say that I need to make the aangifte so I can give this whole fucked up situation sort of possible closure for myself and the cop just mmmm’s and shrugs his shoulders again and then says that me doing the aangifte can’t happen then and there, that it was not possible and that the next available time to do so was the following week Friday, a week from then. And I start to get a bit upset and am on the verge of either telling him to fuck off or start crying and instead I just get angry and say “are you kidding me?” and the cop just mmmm’s and awwwee’s me more and points to the celing saying that it comes from upstairs and that they don’t have enough personel and I am like WTF and I take a deep breath and say, my voice trembling just a bit “sir, with all due respect, I am just a citizen who stepped out of his bubble to help another citizen who was randomly attacked by some crazed person and then I am violently attacked by this same crazed person, while infront of my five year old daughter and I got my nose punched in and am standing here less than twenty four hours after the incident to make the aangifte and you are telling me that I have to wait till a week from now before I can actually do this.?” Ja uhm Ja ummm, waaa, mmmm, ja van boven, he replies…and I continue to say “does it suprise you at all that people have little faith in what the police do anymore?” And then I turned and just walked out, resisting the urge to give the Koudehoorn the middle finge. Instead I just took a deep breath , cursed a bit then got back on my bike and rode to the shop and when I got there Rob and Clemens asked me how it went and I said “Ice Cube said it best. Fuck the Police.”
And my shoulders are tense and the back of my kneck is sore and everything that happened is weighing on my mind, out of balance in my imagination and by now I may have told the story of what happened over 25 times and I am already tired of it and I tried to meditate yesterday but could not focus on my breathing so I just accepted that and let the meditation go and that was when I had decided to take that nap before talking to the cops on the phone and then going to the Koudehoorn where I came face to face with how a civil service system, that asks from us as citizens to work together with them can fail us when we need them the most and how this makes us feel small and frustrated and then I figure well it is a good thing that I don’t have to interact with the police that often and that it could have all been much worse and how people need to be very careful when smoking that skanky chemical Dutch weed and I am wondering if that was the only thing that had set that guy off or maybe there was something else that led tot his psychosis. But I am trying to stay cool and calm so I just shrug it off for now but I know it is not as easy as all that. I am in no need of playing the tough guy roll but I do feel a sense of being proud of myself for being the type of person who will stop to help out another personcause that is what citizens should do for one another and and sometimes people just don’t help one another out for many different reasons and random shit happens all the time and it is scary and this time it happened to me and other times it may happens to you but I hope not. And a thought drifts through my mind, that if Pippi and I had not stopped at the Wilsonsplein so she could ride the refurbished bike merry-go-round then none of this would have happened to us but to someone else and well, I guess that now again we all have to be in the wrong place at the wrong time to take a hit for someone else, for one reason or another.
Yeah, that and whatever.
donderdag 22 november 2018
And she said, step on through
the shadows await you
I thought, shit why must she
always be so poetic.
So I wiped my feet upon the welcome matt
passed out across the threshold and entered.
Once in the kitchen she asked me
where my tolerance levels were that day
I told her that I had left toleration outside
to pee upon her right wing neighbors maple tree.
She said that, to her even the upside down seemed logical.
I replied, that I thought logic had become a real bore.
She handed me a large cup of steaming brew
I sniffed at the steam and smiled.
She told me to drink up
so I did.
zaterdag 17 november 2018
He was strolling down the street, humming and singing to himself “ the VVD took my money away, they took it away, they took it away, the VVD took my money away, took my money away, they took it away from me…’ to the tune of the Ramones “The KKK took my Baby Away,” when he decided to pop into the Hema and buy himself a sack of krentebollen. As he made his way through the cosmetics, the socks, the pens and household goods he came across peppernoten as well. Peppernoten had recently begun to make him feel uneasy. That and the chocolate letters. As a dyslexic he found them somewhat intimidating. Eventually he found the krentenbollen and paid using his debit card. On his way out of the Hema, he bit into one of the krentenbollen and thought, “Ya know, maybe Mark is right. Being pro Zwarte Piet doesn’t necessarily make you a racist asshole. But being overpaid and or undereducated in the Netherlands is a great way to help achieve a person achieve that goal. And after all the holiday is for the children and well like Whitney Houston sang not so long ago, “the children are our future, teach them right and let them lead the way.”
(The funny thing about krentenbollen is, that the sack is usually never finished and the last one is almost always tossed away.)
(The funny thing about krentenbollen is, that the sack is usually never finished and the last one is almost always tossed away.)
woensdag 14 november 2018
Patronaat – Haarlemtown’s home to much more than just Rock n Roll.
I Joshua Baumgarten being the self-appointed Lofi Rock n Roll Poet Laureate of the Patronaat for life, as goed gekuurd by Jeroen Blijleve, Warry van der Leen and in post mortum Dick van der Giessen.
That being said ladies and gentlemen
I have been called here today to sing praise
to the Poppodium of Haarlemtown
our wonderful world of music and performance
for almost the last 35 years
And now the first thing that crosses my mind
as I look about the Haarlemers here
In the cultured faces in the Toneelschuur before me
How many of you
How many of your sons and daughters
After being in the Patronaat
After attending a sweat filled concert or
a 40 plus dance party overflowing with small town decadence,
and feeling that swell of hormones and post adolescence,
alcohol and rock n roll
ended up praying to god
while holding your own or
your partners head
over the porcelain bowl.
For I remember long nights in the late 90’s
fueled by Rocketfuel
where bodies bounced like stuiterbals off of 4 walls
in an old school gym hall
where the sounds of the Ramones, Nirvana, Urban Dance Squad
and Gotcha showed me that even
in this small town of Haarlemtown
that there were like minded freaks
that loved to get down.
The Patronaat, our pop podium
from 1984 till now
consistently peaking the curiosity of a small town crowd
by taking chances on a high end
of lower tier performers
who don’t appeal to the big city crassness,
the Patronaat a venue for the artists ignored
by big city stages
and who have little interest in
putting on shows just to please
the business model and mainstream masses.
For the Patronaat is more than just some average Popzaal
and for so many musicians playing the Patronaat
becomes something personal
returning year after year
the Patronaat becomes a home away from home
a beacon of professional comfort and quality
for bands touring from shit bar to dirty club
always one day further or closer back to
wherever it is that these
thousands of performers that the Patronaat hosts
may call home.
The Patronaat a podium for music afficiandos
and not so much a place where it is hip to be seen
but a venue with a vital roll in the development of
its hometown scene.
A place that offers young performers an introduction
to add to their musical education,
and learn that every gig, big or small
is an oppurtunity for a band to grow.
For the Patronaat is like the greenhouse for
a city rich with local talent
ready to sow.
Where the Rob Acda awards offer local bands
their first chance to put on a pop music show
and a place where these kids can start on their journey
to one day
becoming the next
The Patronaat, where countless Haarlemmers
young and what older
volunteer at the bar and puzzle out the tech desk,
collecting tickets and jackets and
organising the wants and needs
of needy artists behind the scenes while
all the while the paid employees work upstairs
headphones on, bopping and cursing
behind computer screens
praying for the one day that Mojo
may cherrypick them for the big league
an unendings thanks to the
hundreds of volunteers
who year after year
clean up all of the
puke, broken glass
and spilled beer from
kelder to the zolder.
Haarlemtowns playground for those
who wish to get down to some musical sound.
Be it hip hop, rock, house music, reggae or metal.
From the americana sounds of the Roots of Heaven
to Minor Operations drunken punkfeest
the Irrational Library’s seemingly endless eigenaardig ways
the progressive metal of Complexityfest
the garage rock chaos of Klikofest
and the occasional blacked out windows of a swingers fuckfest.
the Patronaat has always been
and always will be
Haarlemtown needs it to be
even if they continue to tap Heineken
which this poet thinks
is really quite shitty.
Haarlemtowns musical portal to the outisde world
our fantastic popzaal always testing the limits
of what is to be heard and to be seen,
the pulsating rhythmic heart
of our cultural city.
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