User talk:Chris Bradley~enwiki
A point blank review of Spook Country by William Gibson[edit]
A point blank review of Spook Country by William Gibson Posted in Uncategorized by chrisbradley on the October 4th, 2007
Let's get started on the best note possible. William Gibson stated yesterday in the California Literary Review that Spook Country was a "contractual obligation" and that he started with a "blank page" and found himself in "varying degrees of distress" during the task of publishing it.
For every reason stated above, and the fact that it is a dry uninspired read at best, it is not worth spending one red cent on. His work has become no better than Steven King's work since the release of Pattern Recognition in 2003, and he is willing to admit, that he is no longer interested in writing about the future.
If I were tied to a "contractual obligation" I don't think I would feel that inspired to write anything particularly new or different either. Especially if I were aware the Publishers were screwing me out of a good portion of the profits.
So, with these things in mind, lets talk about the story and the characters. Brown is a psychopathic failed government agent who is holding Milgrim hostage. Milgrim is addicted to psychotropic speed analogs. They are in New York at the start of the work. Hollis Henry, a pop singer from a band called the Curfew (not far from Curve or the Cure in name) has had a failed career and is making a last ditch effort as a Journalist for an Internet rag called the node. Except that she never writes a single significant word in the entire novel. The container she ends up searching for is ultimately filled with U.S. Government Money (literally 100.00 bills) and it is a ruse that makes her a possible target for a Chinese / Cuban group intent on tagging the money with Cesium. She starts in Los Angeles and Everyone ends up in Vancouver at the conclusion. The Cubans main characters are a kid named Tito and a guy with the Gun to tag the money inside the Shipping Container.
There is a bit about stealing a Glock from a drug dealer, and that's about as much action as takes place in the book. The sequence in New York where Brown is madly trying to procure an Ipod containing data from Tito is a miserable, uninventive look at Union Square, and involves automobiles very rarely.
The big excitement in Milgrim's life is getting a haircut and a Makeover paid for in Washington D.C. by Brown's attache's before boarding a Jetstream to Vancouver where he appears to lose his mind completely. Crashing a car in an attempt to kill Tito. At which point Milgrim escapes, snatches Hollis Henry's purse which contains 5000.00 given to her by proxy from a dead band mate, heroin overdose, who could have figured? Which lands him in a bed and breakfast having a nice egg breakfast on his way out to roam the streets.
That about sums it up. There's nothing more to it. It was the most uninteresting, formula driven work that Gibson has ever written. And the Locative art and GPS opening sequences with Bobby Chombo are so lost in the gratuitous waste of language that they are hardly worth reflecting on. It leaves a big "So what?" in my mind.
I am glad Gibson is admitting that his publishing company is doing him no good, and I suggest that he continue to do so, and "dropkick the chihuawa's into the soup." Because they are just like PRADA bags, trendy, hollow, purchased by vindictive people, and generally bred for all the wrong reasons.
I am glad I bought the book, but maybe Penguin Putnam should rethink their marketing strategy before alienating their customers with tripe that isn't worth the toilet paper it was manufactured on. In today's world, now that he is the Godfather of Cyberpunk, Gibson could have as easily signed his name on a bag of old tomatoes, and they would sell for $17.00.
And he knows it. And he will do it again.
NOTE : ChrisBradley PERMITS THE USE OF THIS REVIEW IN ANY AND ALL FORUMS, NEWSGROUPS, WEBSITES, WIKIS, and BLOGS - Without Copyright. This Document is Open Source.
10 Reasons Not To Buy Into Gibson Mythos[edit]
10 Reasons Not To Buy Into Gibson Mythos Posted in Uncategorized by chrisbradley on the October 3rd, 2007
1) While Gibson May Have Coined The Word Cyberspace, He Did Not Construct It. DARPA Did.
2) Cyberspace was good for all of 3 Books. Neuromancer, Count Zero, and Mona Lisa Overdrive. Every subsequent work dealt with other subjects - which were based solely on the trendiness of the times. Virtual Light (Virtual Reality), Idoru (artificial intelligence turned pop-star), and All Tomorrow's Parties (the homeless problem). Pattern Recognition (Modern Marketing). Spook Country (Paranoia of the Government).
3.) I wrote a review of Pattern Recognition that was widely available to people seeking Gibson's work. A few thousand people probably bought the work because of it. I didn't receive a single thank you note from the Publisher of the work. Instead - I have repeatedly been asked to either stop publishing my own work, or leave their forum altogether.
4.) When I made my best efforts over the course of years from 2003 - 2007 to participate in the Gibson Forum, yes that is 4 years, I was ultimately harassed, shunned, insulted, and instigated into arguing with its members. They are a HOSTILE, Unpleasant, Self Righteous Bunch, With No Valid Intent to Read REAL meaningful posts and respond in a Non Hostile way.
5. The proprietors had me REMOVED from the forum for responding in kind. After having spent Several Hundred Dollars on Gibson Merchandise over the years and invested COUNTLESS hours studying Computer Science and Artificial Intelligence as a result of his works, you would think I would have something of a place there discussing the subjects.
6. Their forum patrons, PERSIST in posting hostile materials against my person, after I have left the forum. I know this because the forum has no measure in place from me ANONYMOUSLY viewing its content.
7. William Gibson, is not at the heart of the real matter at hand. The real matter at hand is that he probably signed a contract with Putnam that prohibits him from doing anything but writing Bestsellers. Therefore his work is Toned Down and not worth reading at all. It is Formula Work designed to shift units. He has little or no creative control over the end result as he did with Neuromancer.
8. A Publishing Company that has No Adequate Oversight over its own resources and the people that uses them has no business being a Publishing Company at all in today's world. If they cannot prohibit users from behaving badly to one another on their website, because they do not interact with it to a significant degree, then they have no business running the website.
9. The Pattern Recognition Movie will probably sell a lot of tickets. Good for the Executive Producer. Bad for Gibson. Good for the publishers of the book - who hold sway over the Copyrights to it through contracts, bad for Gibson. Good for DVD sales and Wal-Mart, bad for Gibson. Good for Leather Jackets, bad for Gibson. Because he knows its not a real story. Its a story that took advantage of the 9-11 event, just like World Trade Center, which was a cheaply made story with a terribly mundane plot.
10. If you have any ambitions of being a writer, stay away from allowing a Publishing Company like Penguin Publishing to contract you. They only pay a few cents per copy sold, while with self publishing, not only are you your own boss, but the book is instantly available internationally, and you get paid up to 2 or 3 dollars a copy. Working the slave life isn't anything anyone should aspire to.
NOTE: Chris Bradley declares this document Open Source for copying
reproduction and redistribution in websites, forums, blogs, wikis, and
any other form of electronic media, including newspapers.
An open letter to Penguin Putnam Group[edit]
An open letter to Penguin Putnam Group Posted in Uncategorized by chrisbradley on the October 3rd, 2007
Tiger68:
- 1. I am not going to ask you to reconsider lifting your ip ban
because it doesn't matter anyway. I have more than 1 ip.
- 2. If I had not been threatened by your members first, I would not
have chosen to respond as I did.
- 3. No one enjoys being a) called mentally unstable b) being outright
cursed at c) called a self promoting "troll"
- 4. To the people that were supposedly "injured" by my remarks, let me
make this comment, they deserved it.
- 5. If Gibson wants to Host a Forum about the US Intelligence Services
aka Spook Country maybe it should be considered that people DO actively participate by making regular reports to them on regular issues.
- 6. I attempted to generate 2 threads, that were of practical use. 1
called 21 Gun Salute, which was a fiction thread designed for that purpose only. The content was no more volitile than any other collection or anthology of short stories published in the last Decade. You chose to suppress it. 2nd - A seasonal / autumn thread - which had NO volitile content whatsoever, and was actually beginning to make progress. You chose to suppress it also.
- 7. It doesn't matter that you have done these things, the most
important of my posts have been copied to my blog. And WILL BE PUBLISHED in a future book. You can bank on that.
- 8. People who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones. A member
on the William Gibson board literally took my face and attached it to a sign that said "Narcissitic Personality Disorder." If he thinks its funny, its not. If anyone has it, it is the entire makeup of your board who think they are a) self important b) infallible c) allowed to push drugs through your forum d) allowed to manipulate foreigners in illegal ways. They fit their own description. Using my personal photograph without my permission and without my posting it EVER on the forum, is a) illegal b) an obscene affront to decency c) lawsuit worthy.
- 9.William Gibson's future products will not be on my shopping list if
I am not re-admitted to the board. I will take no future action to purchase any of his endorsed products, enjoy his literature, or give him any sort of positive review with my peers, limited as they are. I may even write a negative review of Spook Country and make it prominently viewable. Because I know it isn't his best work, and I know it was a tactic to sell books for your company rather than produce anything genuine or creative.
- 10. A word to the wise: Losing me means losing everyone like me -
including newcomers to the community who see it as an open forum, rather than a CENSORED, ILL PLANNED, POORLY HOSTED, attempt at selling products and manipulating a market that should have dried up with All Tomorrow's Parties.
- 11. I will not spend Movie theater or DVD money on Pattern
Recognition either, and I will start telling my friends it is a waste of time. And that it has nothing to do with cyberspace, which is the God's Honest Truth. From the OUTSET, PR has to do with Marketing, and I'm sad to say that in writing my review which appreared in VoidSpace and probably sold at least 10,000 copies of PR - I fell for it Hook Line and Sinker. Never again.
- 12. You don't want to deal with people talking about politics, tell
your author not to write about them. I think Gibson is too far away from America now to make any sincere comment on what goes on here. And I don't see him catalyzing a single sincere thought on the subject from his home in Canada which has become an Anethma to any American crossing into its borders. Canadians come to our country and criticize us in our own stores while we stand there and listen to how they are superior to us. Maybe we should close the borders and cut our trade to them, and see how the Canadian Dollar Fares, when we stop spending money to support them. Canadians seem to think that America is going to protect them eternally and they have it carte blanche to step on our ideas. I'm here, and I'll say it, we probably won't. And if something horrible happens in either of your two media centers now, I'll be laughing from my Border Town which is well secured and doesn't have any real potential targets.
- 13 To think I actually thought I might use Toronto or Montreal for a
site for a future film is now virtually entirely off. I'll have to rethink the entire strategy. Hollywood has its magic, and so does New York. Two places I can see laughing very hard when Pattern Recognition doesn't sell enough tickets to pay back the investors.
- 14 You can forget I said any of this - laugh me off - or not even
read it for all I care. But keep this in mind, that aborted thought you skipped when a) either you didn't reply or b) you replied negatively will cost you. This draft will be copied to my blog which gets a considerable number of Keywords into Google, as will any of your responses, legal threats, or scoldings. I implore you, give it a chance. Because your company really doesn't need a gaping wound to be its #6 NY Times best seller.
- 15 In case you wondered - Yes I still enjoy gibson, but as I said - I
won't buy another thing, and I will turn on his work like a bad penny in an instant, if you don't do something about controlling your internal problems with your community. And from an ANONYMOUS perch, I will be watching.
NOTE: This work is Open Source. Chris Bradley grants the right to use this work to Websites, Blogs, Wikis, Forums, Newsgroups, and Newspapers.
To Think I Walked That Stage[edit]
To think I walked that stage
by Christopher J. Bradley
(cc)2006
To think I walked that stage
So many years ago
With other graduates of age
we walked and talked and threw like pros.
Our valedictorian named John,
gave quite a speech before the throng,
Of parents, family, and kids,
All waiting for the moment of our time,
Where we'd make or break ourselves up there,
The lasting moment of our prime.
Yes some made it and some did not,
For those that didn't we wished them best,
To find in later years they might,
Have come out better in the test.
And yet, for all the truth and lies,
That spilled from us in thus that prime,
Today I sit before you now,
A keyboard king,
An Iron Cow.
To while away the moments till,
Some chance comes its way or will,
Make me realize that it is best,
To leave immortals to their jests,
And take the daily pill and drill,
For someday, those who live on earth,
Will feed the fires, as we rebirth,
Upon the newest stage of all,
The one that counts, before the fall.
Medford Village Currents[edit]
August 29, 2005 Version 2.0 Prose
We stopped after long travels in a black Ford LTD through the winding roads from New York to Massachusetts. When we finally got to Boston, Scott and I had the hardest time finding a parking space.
When we finally did find a parking space, we almost passed out in the car in the parking lot because the weather was so hot. Strangely enough, it was windy with a sort of ocean breeze.
I had left work as an agent for Disney, Sony, and Compton’s new Media with a company called Upgrade Corporation of America without plans to ever return to small town Niagara Falls. It was ultimately important that we find housing as soon as possible, and work to follow. Our journey would lead us into the true unknown.
After glancing around the marketplace for a good few minutes, we made up our minds to get to find our place in things.
We walked up and down Mass Ave for a while, looking to cafés for our answers. The first one we came across was Starbucks. Starbucks, while bringing strong coffee to our palates, didn’t have much in the way of answers.
Defeated by the heat, we walked back toward the parking lot. What we found, just North of the parking lot, was a café, much like the café called Topic, that resided dead center in Allentown Buffalo, and had become our hangout over the years.
This new place was called The Someday Café’ and had a specialty coffee called the Dancing Goat. You can probably imagine that it was extremely strong coffee.
The customers were slightly more upscale than the bohemians we’d run into in Buffalo. Where UB T-Shirts and acoustic guitars were prevalent in Buffalo, in Medford we found a spikey haired MIT girl and a cellist, who was not at all unattractive herself.
The cellist was a magnificent specimen. I really hated to leave her there alone. She was wonderful to share coffee with. She seemed very much like she belonged down the road away in Cambridge, where she probably had come from.
We really needed to make headway. While I was speaking with her, Scott discovered a book with a list of renters in the area in it. It was thankfully up to date.
Without a cell phone, we called a musical sub-letter seeking two roommates. We got the impression that this was an ideal situation, since neither of us minded noise.
The older gentleman came right over and met us. He was a stout man with a beard. If I had met him on the street, I might have mistaken him for Jerry Garcia. He was very amicable, and we had no trouble discussing the rental with him.
He looked like a peaceful and wise individual. The
truth was, that he was just too lazy and stubborn to shave. We would not discover this until later.
We went with our new friend Wayne, to a bar downtown near MIT, and enjoyed his entertaining depictions of life in Boston, while we watched two younger men drink yards of stout dressed in shorts and polo shirts.
It was something I'd never witnessed before, and I
think it was distinctive of the region. At 22, I’d never seen people drink yards in Western New York, or even when I was in Chicago.
To catch everyone up, I spent my first semester of college in Chicago at Illinois Institute of Technology. At IIT I pledged a fraternity, and ended up in the very unfortunate circumstance, of being to ill to continue.
The alcohol, in the form of beer, whisky sours, and vodka, caught up with me, and in December I was too sick to leave my room.
I also, in 1991 I had become engaged to be married to a girl. She was as important to me then as she is now. However people’s lives for some reason do not always merge as we would hope. I am learning to live with this loss as time pursues me with another relationship.
The trip to the Kendall Square bar, with Wayne and Scott, was my first experience riding the subway in Boston. It was remarkably clean and organized in comparison with Chicago's El.
The routes come out from Central Station in flower petal organizations. The odds of getting on the wrong train are remarkably slim. A passenger would be more likely to get lost in a city like New York or Chicago because there are so many more paralleling routes splintering off.
Thinking back on the Yards, in the subway, I wished I had that kind of stamina. It was almost a chore to drink what I had let alone a Yard.
We got to know Wayne a little bit and he informed us that there was one spare mattress. Things worked out when we got there, and Scott agreed that since he wasn’t paying the largest share of the rent, he would sleep on the floor.
We used between the three of us, all three rooms in the lower apartment. We had a shared kitchen and shared living room. I had brought my stereo and CD player. Which was a nice addition to the bare room. Wayne had plenty of CD’s but no electronics to speak of.
I had seen street performers down near the Topic in Allentown, but I had forgotten over the 3 years I’d been back that they took to the subways as well. There was a folk singer in the subway. On the trip back from Kendall Square.
In Chicago, on my way home for Thanksgiving, in 1991, I had encountered a violinist with an open case, but he was nowhere near as packaged as the Granola folk singer.
The city of Chicago is all about Jazz and Blues, so there is the marked difference in types of style. He was dressed in Chicago in a black blues suit with a red shirt and a black tie, and scuffed shoes.
In contrast, the girl singing in Boston was wearing a skirt to the ankles with miniscule flowers and paisleys. Her voice pitched up and down gently but clearly like her hands on the acoustic guitar. Change rattled into her case, next to the mini-amplifier that brought her sound up above the sound of the moving feet on the platform.
Back at the apartment, moving in was similar to moving in in college. But it struck me as something different. It was like abandoning all things before to embrace something new.
It was a chance to truly plant my feet on ground where I could stand on my own. I could make the best of things and what would be would be. My perspective on the World was getting larger, and it made me feel larger than life in a sense. It gave me an innate feeling of invincibility and faith in my own motions as I stepped forward into a new consciousness.
The contrast of life was exaggerated in my mind. At home (Niagara Falls) I had worked at a small company in the separate but larger metropolitan city of
Buffalo New York.
When I had come back from school in Chicago I had immediately enrolled in Michelle’s school. Michelle, who I'd planned to marry, had taken this very well. After parting ways with her, due to an interest in Toronto’s night life that could not be easily quelled, I ended my time there working in Buffalo, the territory I knew best.
When I wasn’t working in Buffalo, I was living in Buffalo, pretty much from the trunk of the car my parents had given me to use. I made a wide array of friends, some good, some bad, but all pretty much disappearing when times got difficult.
Somehow in the midst of all of the changes going on, I stayed with my head held just high enough to stay above water. The prostitutes, tax collectors, drug dealers, and other troublemakers of the city of Buffalo only had their way with me marginally. Things were looking up rather than down when I moved to Boston, and I was glad to have a friend from high school to move with.
I thought one of the most important factors in establishing credit in Boston was to have an open bank account to pay the rent with. Looking back, I’m glad I had the account and could track where some of the money was spent.
Baybank was the major bank in the neighborhood we moved into in Medford. It was just across the street from the Someday Cafe' and it seemed the
most likely bank to work with. The tellers were courteous and understanding of our situation. They were very different from New York bankers who keep very precise time and are more than willing to put up a "next teller" sign, if they don’t like your looks.
I spent my first rested afternoon in Boston in the air conditioned offices of Baybank, while the wind and sunburned walkers in the streets moved by.
Opening a checking account, is more of a chore than is often thought. You have to provide several forms of identification, and then listen to all of the various options. These options ultimately lead you to what you think might be the least expensive one. Then you have to wait for the official documents, which have to be approved by the bank manager in most circumstances.
All in all, from my dealings with banks in the past, I’ve found that you can’t get away with any less than an hour’s investment in opening an account.
There's nothing better than a slice of bakery pizza. Scott came up with the idea before I did. Bakery pizza far outstrips pizzeria pizza when you want to have a nice relaxing morning in the summer sun.
Bakery pizza is the kind of thing that can make a broken day something to live for again.
I strongly recommend Sunday Morning bakery pizza too. I think they put a little something extra into it. My grandmother used to buy us Pizza of every kind.
As far as pizza is concerned, between my aunt and my grandmother, I’ve been spoiled.
There were other times when bakery pizza was a blessing. On the return trip from Raves in Toronto, we would often stop in the city at Pizza Pizza. Or if we didn’t stop prior to the drive home, we would stop in Niagara Falls.
In the early 90’s, arguably the two best bakeries in Niagara Falls were on Elmwood avenue and 18th and Pine Avenue.
The one on Pine Avenue remains to this day and is called DiCamillos. It is family owned and operated, and has been there since before I was born in 1973.
Iced Cappuccino on a hot summer day was definitely nice. What was even nicer was the opportunity to watch an all star little league baseball game. The baseball diamond was just up the hill from the Dunkin’ Donuts, where we’d found the evening edition of the Boston Globe.
Baseball is an American institution. Little League Baseball is the most American of Institutions. It is the most American of Institutions because it teaches children complex rules, and most importantly, something that is life altering. The concepts of Sportsmanship and Fair Play are vital to the inherent nature of people who will grow to be Americans and people who will represent America abroad.
Outdoor activities are good for many spectators interested in going about their discussions and theories on who might win. We smoked a few cigarettes and watched the game play on while discussing our plans for the week ahead.
I believe to this day that I was more goal oriented than Scott, but he was not without suggestions. After all, I had him to thank for the current situation, for the very fact that he brought the car to the table when the need arose.
Our first trip to the grocery store, would have been uneventful had we not had to go through the only available checkout.
Among the purchases were ham, bologna, tomatoes, pasta sauce, spaghetti, bread, milk, and cereal, and eggs. There are always incidentals that are impossible to remember, like licorice, and that sort of thing. One thing that I do know is that we were unable to buy beer in the supermarket.
The check out girl was Mexican, but that was not her most notable quality. She had the long Dark Hair and Dark Eyes of my first serious high school girlfriend. She made me think very impure thoughts while standing there in the Purity market pushing my purchases along.
7 years prior, the girlfriend from high school and I had met. We met over Ice Cream at a Creative Arts camp, and in the course of a week, things progressed rather quickly.
Underneath a wishing well’s awnings, we made the promise to date each other. As we kissed, we experienced a sun shower over Silver Lake. The sky was all refracted rainbows and mist.
Later we found ourselves sneaking around the stone manor, at the lowest outcropping above the water. And over the next few days, she wrote Christian lyrics to a remake of the Rose, which I played on my Yamaha keyboard. At the end of the week, I performed the music with a vocalist.
That summer we watched a vampire movie called The Lost Boys while enjoying each other’s close company under blankets on the floor of her mother’s house.
I don’t believe I need to detail any further the thoughts that might have been going through my head while looking into the deep brown eyes of this checkout girl. Both Scott and I made it known that we’d like to get to know her better. But it was clear that we were new in town, and without the best of possible intentions.
She did flirt with us though, and that led us to return to Purity for our grocery many times in the future. It was just as good that neither of us ended up with her, with one mattress between us and a VCR that was far from sterile.
We played a lot of Scrabble when we were in Boston. Wayne had one of the big professional grid boards. It was entertaining to drown out the days struggles while listening to Pink Floyd. Two of our favorite albums were and still are Dark Side of the Moon, and The Wall.
We had some monumental Scrabble matches in that pink house. We still talk about them when we run into each other. I would like to say that I’ve been able to stay in touch with Scott. The truth is he’s really very random in my life now. He works at a local retailer, and I spend my time writing. He writes and draws cartoons as well.
There are certain words though, that to any Scrabble player will raise an ear. Mentioning the 8 letter word Calzones along with two Triple Word Scores, in certain company can create a frenzy. I know, because regardless of the ninety to one hundred points I got for the word, it will astound, that I was still defeated in the match.
On our way to Harvard Square during our first week in Boston we stopped in back in at Starbucks. The coffee was very strong and it kept us in good spirits even though we had walked miles that day. At the time we were still not entirely familiar with the Red Line of the T (the subway in Boston).
Walking was good exercise. It was good to get to know our surroundings before venturing out into the larger metro areas. We had our hearts set on Harvard Square for the legendary chess battles that were rumored to go on there.
When we got to Harvard Square, Scott brazenly sat down at the very first chess match he saw. I went for more coffee.
The Au Bon Pain was expensive. It was the primary vendor in the immediate vicinity of the square. I bought two Iced Cappuccinos for about nine dollars. My drink was delicious, but arguably there were better ways to spend nine dollars.
When I brought Scott his drink, he was sitting with across from a grizzled old man, playing chess while a very Harvard appearing observer named David looked on. He seemed like a very gifted individual. I would have liked to have had more time to get to know him.
David seemed extraordinarily well read. And he was mild mannered, a sort of Clark Kent type individual. He was very unlike so many of the people I would meet on the street in Buffalo.
If I think back on David now, he reminds me a lot of my current friend Andy, who is currently pursuing a PhD in another city.
David recommended a coffee shop before wandering off into the square. I’d been complaining of the cost of the drinks from Au Bon Pain.
Unfortunately, the place he recommended was difficult to find. The coffee was served in Styrofoam cups. And the prices were far too high for plain coffee.
The other patrons did not impress us either. There were a bunch of people wearing black berets in there that I doubt knew the first thing about the Beat generation. And more disturbing were the urban dressed police that checked the place out and had their free Java while we were there.
Looking into the Harvard bookstore window I was forced to ask myself a question that I’ve asked myself so many times. It is always about image isn't it?
I would have killed for one of those Harvard sweatshirts. But I didn't get one. To this day I am jealous of anyone who wears one in my presence because I know they have received the full tour. Or at least had a relative that has.
I realize in my own contorted thinking on that Bookstore window, that It's not really about money, it's more about status.
I would have loved to have gone to Harvard or MIT for college, but I never did look into the requirements. I just assumed a technical college would have a more progressive education as far as computers were
concerned.
Looking back, I was probably right. If I had it to live over again, I think I might take the opportunity to commit myself more to my first semester of college.
To this day, I remain with only an Associate’s degree. But if I amount the life experience involved in traveling to New York, Chicago, Boston, Huntsville, Daytona, Montreal, Toronto, Lexington, Nashville, and Detroit; I think I might have something worthwhile when I add it all up.
The Arrow Pub was great. It wasn't really much of a place for lively conversation. And Scott was very intent on drinking. I was trying to get over how daunting taking on Boston for work would be.
I decided that night that I would go back to Niagara Falls and trade my keyboards for the car. I’m going to skip ahead a bit to state that it was very easy to find a job in Boston in 1995 with a car and a computer.
Three days from the evening at the arrow pub, I had a job. What I ended up finding out in the long run, is that in a big city, even the work is all on the public transit lines.
While sinking in the beer at the Arrow pub, I let myself be dragged down a bit. I began to realize the degree of damage I’d done to my mind with the LSD in 1992, and 1993. My motive in acting was based on the fact that I was trying to reverse this entirely and work toward completely changing my condition in the world.
My entire focus was settling down and learning to live on my own. And I had not much time for thinking about sports or recreation. And these were exactly the things going on at the Arrow Pub. Baseball was on TV and recreational drinking was the mode of operation.
At the same time as I sat there drowning in beer, those gates of Harvard loomed over me like headstones. They were a marker for the past that could have been.
I hate it when I get a parking ticket. I dislike even more having my car towed. It’s like getting a ticket for dropping a cigarette butt or forgetting to put on a seatbelt.
In Western New York, the meters are not charged at night. I made the unreasonable assumption that the rules might be the same in Boston. I should have been aware the moment they refused to sell beer in the grocery store, that things were different legally.
We were in the International House of Pancakes for about thirty minutes waiting for a seat. The restaurant was located on the edge of China Town. We never ended up seated and the car was ticketed within that half-hour.
Once I learned to use the subway, it became easier to use that to get to any point in downtown than to actually use the car. It remained parked most of the time, in front of our Pink House in Medford.
Nights in Haymarket Square are something to remember. There is always something new to see there. There is always some kind of sight, sound, or smell. There is always a feeling of loose tension in the air.
In the Market, the people sift among each other like Mammalians. The wind funnels down the aisle.
I remember buying a coffee mug to bring back to my father and mother in the gift shop there. It was a Tea Party mug with thin aqua blue stenciling of Boston Harbor’s pier.
There were things to read about the Declaration of Independence, Thomas Jefferson, and Benjamin Franklin. Thomas Jefferson being the composer of the Declaration of Independence, and Benjamin Franklin, one of its signors.
Scott and I enjoyed beverages as we walked and took in the sights sounds. And carted our bags of souvenirs among the crowd.
Abbott staffing was downtown in Haymarket Square. This turned out to be convenient when the call for work came. Because of our trip, I already knew the subway route there.
It was a quick stop off in Federal Plaza and jog down some nicely tiered steps. Then, just a bit to the right into an office complex paralleling the market.
The girl that assisted me was from Buffalo. To this day, I think she passed me on the typing test simply because she admired me for trying to relocate as she had.
It's always a struggle adapting to a new city. I could see that she was struggling also. It was possible that she was only temporary help herself.
She helped me find work where several other places that interviewed me were much less than helpful. There will always be a place in my heart for administrative assistants. I am glad that there is a day to celebrate their achievements.
My first day at work was very exciting. I was commissioned to take a taxi with a prepaid voucher to collect mail for Advent from the main postal depot. It was on the harbor.
The post office from my vantage point, did not seem very professional. They kind of shoved the mail back and forth in bins. I consider myself fortunate to have come back with the correct bin.
My friend Mike worked for the Post office before becoming an assistant in the local high school’s guidance department. He could probably speak more coherently on mail than I could.
The mail room position I had received was suited well to me at the time. Their requirements were standard business dress, no jacket. I was to sort the mail and deliver it to the secretaries. I was also required to log the faxes and sort them in with the mail, when they weren’t junk faxes.
It was rather complex actually. I had to do a lot of work with the alphabet. It was something I hadn't given much thought to since elementary school. Even so, at times matching up the mail was quite challenging.
Once it was broken into boxes, it was placed in folders in a rolling cart for delivery to secretaries. In the early morning virtually every member of the office got a copy of the Wall St. Journal. This wouldn’t have been a problem, except for sorting past the odd VP who didn’t receive a copy.
The mail machine for weighing outgoing packages was a real experience. I had to keep getting the front desk secretary for help with it.
On a couple of afternoons after they finished business meetings they had me rinse and wash plates in a dishwasher. And on one occasion, I was invited to go across the park and pay one of the VP’s parking expenses at the parking ramp.
It was exciting for one week’s work. And the pay wasn’t bad, eight dollars and fifty nine cents an hour in nineteen ninety five was actually pretty good, if the rent hadn’t been so expensive.
People moved like animals in Central Station. They walked in every which direction in the big open dome and confused you. You had to be careful to step ahead to avoid pin ball like collisions.
In actuality, they were more like fish than animals, veering in schools toward their appropriate trains. All I needed was a bus ticket at Greyhound.
I don't even think I stopped at McDonalds for lunch because the place was so horrendously full of people. I think though that part of what contributed to the collision factor was that I was in the station at noon, the busiest time of day.
I made a mental note when I was there, to come later in the day when purchasing tickets at the booth.
The summer was full of the evening reds and oranges of maple trees and oaks as the trip proceeded. I found myself lost in all of the nature at the edges of the highway.
I remember focusing on my own belief in myself that if I did not at least succeed, I would come back some day.
Maybe to make it the place of my retirement.
But then the more I saw there, the less I thought there was a need for any particular retirement. When you learn to make yourself literate, you are literate for life.
Your words and spirit flow through the people that receive them as if it was God himself speaking through you, just as he speaks through the waving of the
trees.
That can only happen of course if you've made a conscious effort to come to terms with that philosophic and religious position as I did about a year ago. No one says I am perfect. No one said Paul was infallible as
they so kindly pointed out on television last night.
But when thinking of enjoying nature, now I will always have to thank the Holy Spirit for making the beauty of nature come to light.
Mom didn't realize what I had to do. I had to be the stable party in a situation that could have turned out worse for both Scott and I.
He might never have found that Someday Cafe' without me, and he may have ended up stranded over night with no way home.
Our decision to stay could only be based on his responsibility to find work so that we both could maintain a successful housing arrangement.
Wayne doubled the rent, demanded money for the telephone bill, that we more than paid for, and then invited two pot smoking conventioneers into the apartment at the wrong time.
It was neither in my interest or Scott’s interest to stay when everything came down to the floor. So ultimately we ended up at home. Yet this is only the beginning of the conclusion.
This is still the part where I’m returning with the car, and even just before I started working in the mail room. This is the part where I said goodbye to Mom and made certain that I would never return to Niagara Falls, at least not as the same person I was when I left.
Travel is fun. The open road is a thing to be marveled at. When you get behind the wheel of your first car, you feel a twinge in your backbone that screams all the way up your spine Freedom!
At last, you have the same opportunity and possibility that is granted the middle class in America to live the wild and transient life that is a ramble forward with no looking back.
In so many ways I was not looking back. I was looking forward with my eyes on the brass ring of success. Had things worked out differently, I might not have the opportunities I have today.
I would have missed all of those debates with Scott over why Sartre was only going to make him more depressed. What I didn't realize at the time was that there is some enlightenment to be had by opening the eyes to philosophy.
Even Kerouac and his cast of characters knew that. They were all over the road with the wheel spinning and they came up historically smelling like roses.
Even if they were occasionally taken advantage of by the dogs. The open road, a metaphor for everything good and soul searching in the four corners of America, a place to hang your hat low over your eyes under a starry night while watching the trucks pull down.
The road is not flat. It moves up and down and it twists and it turns until you can relentlessly say you've gained experience that no other single individual can share. The open road is a vestige of American life, ever since Henry Ford developed the Model T in every color you wanted it as long as it was black.
The open road was meant for you and me friends. I
strongly urge you to take it up sometime, and push the needle into the red. There is no other place to go, under these stars. Except maybe a rave on the moon.
When I returned to Boston from New York, I stopped on the way at a beer store and bought a twelve pack of Grolsh beer. The Grolsh was supposed to be a bribe to get Scott and Wayne to help me move my car full of stuff into the tiny house.
It didn't work. They were not impressed with the Grolsh as they'd been drinking the homemade beer. I was really disappointed with them but I didn't let on.
I carefully carried my keyboard, stereo, and computer into the house and set up for business. I knew by then that Scott's apparent lethargy was not going to help things at all.
I kept quiet and went about the business of work and self establishment. I showed them how to fax documents later that evening on the computer.
Scott liked to play a game of chess I had obtained from our friend Larry the "Chess Terminator" in Buffalo. It was called Fritz.
Fritz’s accuracy and acuity were maddening. It was such a tough game that I wouldn't play it. Scott spent ages staring at it like a mantis and eventually beat the thing, once.
That evening we played a couple of games of Scrabble. We listened to Pink Floyd and Peter Gabriel and a couple of the many CD's I'd brought from New York.
Wayne was not fond of my collection so they didn't get played much around the house. He hated anything with electronics or hip-hop beats. That was all I really had.
We had a few seven-letter words as that night. Scott remembered that I placed the word Bunions for several points. He also challenged it and lost crippling his score for that round, but it is possible I think that he may have won the game.
I never paid too much attention to who won or lost. It was the playing of the game that was most intriguing to me. It was a real chore to tabulate final scores anyway. Even though I've accomplished the task of completing Calculus III I've never particularly cared for adding and subtracting if it's not absolutely necessary.
I guess I was lucky when I was a cashier at the computer store in Buffalo that the machines automated all of that. Wouldn't it be a fun joke if someone got a couple thousand dollars worth of discounts.
Before I had the car, I took this ridiculous bus trip out to the Retail Computer City out in Saugus. The trip never paid off because they never called me back. Even though I'd had years of prior experience in Sales and Customer Service at the one in Buffalo, they flat out thew my application in the garbage because they thought it was unsound to move out to Boston without a plan.
In order to get back home that night I had to share a Taxi to get to the subway. I didn't mind sharing though. The Puerto Rican lady and her child were beautiful people and they were dropped off before I could even figure out how far we'd traveled. I tried to estimate the costs.
It ended up costing me ten dollars I didn't want to spend. All in all though, I got back to the pink house in Medford where I needed to be.
I have elected since, not to work for a retail store again. I have also elected not to work for a fast food restaurant again. I will refer you to the Jungle by Upton Sinclair if you wish to discuss meat. I haven’t read it, but I could sum up the Fast Food industry with a few choice words.
At this point, I’d like to share some truth. The truth is, I've done everything you can possibly do wrong in your life. I am an alcoholic, nearly one year dry, I have tendencies toward gambling, I smoke, I have a history of drug addiction. Since nineteen ninety six I have had the institutions of psychiatry involved in my life.
I've never been arrested but I've been in the back of a police car more than once. And I will never agree that the vantage point is worthwhile.
I've nearly dropped my grandfather's casket, and pretty much sworn off visiting tombstones since then.
To put it point blank, despite all the trials, I'm still
here. People still love me for who I am. And if I don't have myself, I have my two dogs.
Does it take that much talent to sell a TV or a camcorder when you've already got computer skills and verbal and communications skills seasoned by years of work in the fields?
I am not a thief, I don’t hang out on the warehouse floor looking to re-shift the latest shipment. I know better. There is a fine line between what you can do legally and what is illegal.
There is a thin line that is to be crossed and I've never made that little step that you have to make to cross it.
For the corporate middlemen out there, as far as I'm concerned I'm a disabled veteran. I could have predicted the war that is going on now.
Back in 1996 I was called crazy because I believed that the bombing on the World Trade Center was precipitous of a possible act against President Clinton. The people around me called me crazy for it, and ran me out of town. I spent three months thinking about it. And I am certain now, that I was correct. After all, wasn’t Clinton put through the impeachment process? Weren’t the towers attacked again?
I have chosen for the sake of being myself. I plan to recollect these diaries and journals for the benefit of others. And to work in opposition to middle managers who think they can buy the best of tomorrow’s minds with cheap ploys and fixations on technology. Sales is no match for mental development. I only wish I’d learned it earlier.
At one point, In Boston, I almost had a job with Gillette. A woman called on the phone and said that she had an opening for a skilled individual. There was a miscommunication.
I thought she was looking for assistance with computer tech support. It turned out ultimately that she was looking for an engineer. I went for a long drive out into Waltham to find their headhunter firm.
She showed me floor plans of an intricate network and I was unable to interpret the diagrams. With proper training, I might have been able to learn enough to work on a network. In hindsight however, they weren’t paying enough anyway for the job they were trying to fill.
I call the last good days I had in Boston, "The last days of the green tomato." Our time in Boston was running out. We ended up having a running gag about Yohhimbe root in our scrabble games because I think I actually tried some in Toronto once.
Looking back from nineteen ninety five to nineteen ninety two… I was at a rave, selling Smart Drinks, and tripping on acid. I was told by the Disc Jockey that gave me a root to chew that it was an African Root that had stimulating abilities.
That night I was so blitzed that I couldn't count the change for the customers, and had multiple instantaneous panic attacks when we ran out of 2 dollar bills. Which don't even exist in any real shape or form in the United States.
The Smart Drink company was called Mental Jackhammer. It was all under the table and I made enough money to bankrupt myself buying records, gas, and overextending my interests.
I discovered that the girlfriend that I had fallen into had a little bit of a chemical problem herself. To this day I contend that she was stealing from me. I can tell stories about our adventures together all day, but they are unrelated to this work as they happened largely in Toronto.
This is where the story about Medford Ends. Scott and I rapidly packed up our things and headed off in separate cars to get back to Niagara Falls as quickly and evasively as possible.
From what I understand he never did pay his share
of the rent but that was not important as I had paid a mammoth phone bill for long distance Scott had used and Wayne had said he'd be committed to sharing it.
I lost only about a thousand dollars on the adventure as I earned a weeks pay. And Scott only lost about three hundred. By nineties standards that was a lot of money, but when I compare it to what you can sink into a bad slot machine, its really not that much.
The moral of the story is, if the landlord has fleas, don't let him drink in the kitchen.
I dynamically fell back work and then school. I was able to find work because I read Windows 95 for dummies on the subway in Boston prior to its release. I read it mostly on the rides back and forth to work.
I still envy that Japanese guy’s Rolex I saw one day when looking up from the book into human traffic.
Epilogue
[the tennis match]
Early on Sunday morning, one week after we arrived in Boston, I dressed as best I could, and walked to the Methodist church between Davis Square and the
Pink House. I patiently signed my name into the guest book and sat down to listen to the sermon.
The minister was an African American woman. The service held was for both Unitarian and Methodist parishioners. I listened carefully as she talked about Agape and the unification of spiritual and philosophical forces bringing peoples lives together.
At the time I don’t think I really saw the impact of how this would impact me, but in retrospect, I can see that it was important. It is not just important to me, but to anyone who has a friend or relative. That covers just about everyone in the world. Or at least you would hope it does.
I meditated and prayed on it for a moment, and asked God to help me find the reason why I was in Boston. I thought mostly about finding a way to support myself and become part of a community other than the one I had dealt with back home.
At the time I did not realize that no matter where you go you can never really leave home. Either home comes with you, or it finds you, or it Spirits you away.
Today home is the Earth. Earth is where you come from and Earth is where you will stay. Even the cosmonauts that lost their lives in space return to the earth as ash.
Visions like theirs are eternal because they are made eternal through the motions of the papers that sift through the air of the seaside. On Earth.
I asked around at church to see if I could enlist in any help finding work in Boston. I was nudged aside by most people, except for one kind old woman who began asking others on my behalf. Many of them suggested reading the help wanted ads, or looking to temporary agencies. Some suggested the unemployment office.
It appears that most good God fearing people are not the ones that have the power to instantly employ just anyone.
They work for people too and have careers to uphold and must keep to a smart degree guarded from strangers or drifters who might upset their ability to care for their own. This is understandable.
So I took their suggestions and worked at it a while but that all came later. The important lesson is that drifting is something that you have to be careful about, because even your own affiliations may not recognize you when you journey to distant lands.
I will take you to the beginning of the tennis match. I spent a long time walking back up the hill thinking about the sermon and the old woman’s charitable speaking. I also thought on the coffee and cookies at church, and I was not particularly in wonderful spirits for sharing my thoughts of the people I had encountered because I did believe that they genuinely could have helped me if they had wanted to.
Perhaps in a way they did.
When I channeled my energy and wisdom into relaying a message of hopefulness in the last quarter mile, I found Scott waiting for me at the door, with two rackets in hand. He told me to go and put on some other clothes and come and play tennis.
At first I wanted to decline because I saw this as an energy sapping activity. After all, I had just walked four blocks up hill and had a mission to talk to him about motivation and overcoming obstacles. I thought he was just as depressed as I made him out to be.
And I thought that he had been reading things that were necessarily prescriptions for depression. He was always walking around with a book written by Jean Paul Sarte’ or Albert Camus. It isn’t until now that I realize that philosophy, reason, and metaphysics are all connected.
In a spiritual sense, he must have been working toward his own awakening of being. Just quietly, and in considerately. And so I put on jeans and a T-shirt, thinking that it wasn’t going to do me much good. After all, how can you give a sermon, if you are choking your
way after a green ball?
I played as well as I could, but I knew that I would never defeat him, at a game he had grown up playing. So I struck the ball when I could, and the energy flipped out of my hands and over the net into his court.
Every once in a while I would score a point, but it wasn’t often that I would achieve love on my side of the score sheet. I decided that if he was the better player, he should win. And that was all there was to playing.
He was never overly smug about his game play. He simply wanted me to remember that we played the game and had an opportunity to enjoy an almost resort like living.
Our house wasn’t even a block from the court. There was no charge to play. And the baseball games were always going on.
So there was something going on. But I couldn’t exactly see it at the time. I think that I can say it without fear and without enmity from anyone. The truth is, that agape and spirituality apply to everyone.
These places where common experience merge are not coincidence, but a part of the nature of God working through nature.
There can be love of a spiritual kind among men, without the necessity of abomination or contact.
Men don’t have to have sex to share in philosophical relationships based on friendship.
I say clearly that in the tennis match of life I found Love for Scott as a brother and fellow human. And I look toward him as a good man to obtain knowledge from or share knowledge with. Or even possibly find wisdom through.
Some might call this comradeship I cannot attest specifically to this because I believe that communism is steeped in hatreds too old to be viewed as plausible for a leading existence in modern social action. I will call it only what it is. Love.
Comradeship implies leadership in a cause. And there is no cause, greater than that of the Son of God who died for our sins, also named aptly, Love.
I find brotherhood through his suffering and know that I too suffer. I also know that everyone who has lived a day since Rome began to burn has suffered. And today, we are still in the fires of that fallen Empire.
We are also however in the light of God. Through Love, as I would share with my Father, or My Brothers, or my Sister, or my Mother, or any of my Aunts, Uncles, or Cousins, we may all be healed again.
May we all have awakenings similar to games as great as these.
Welcome[edit]
Welcome!
Hello, Chris Bradley~enwiki, and welcome to Wikipedia! Thank you for your contributions. I hope you like the place and decide to stay. Here are a few good links for newcomers:
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I hope you enjoy editing here and being a Wikipedian! Please sign your name on talk pages using four tildes (~~~~); this will automatically produce your name and the date. If you need help, check out Wikipedia:Where to ask a question, ask me on my talk page, or place {{helpme}} on your talk page and someone will show up shortly to answer your questions. Again, welcome! Dustimagic *\o/* (talk/contribs) *\o/* 03:09, 18 January 2006 (UTC)
Please Read And Comment[edit]
I worked for several years to put together this work on my time in Boston in 1995. While at first it may seem easy to read, it took a lot of thought and time on my own to gather the momentum to put it into words. I appreciate any constructive criticisms or comments on it. Thank you.
Chris Bradley 05:32, 16 February 2006 (UTC)
- I don't mean to take the wind out of your sails, but Wikipedia is not a free web host. Your userpage and talk page should reflect and be related to your work here as a Wikipedian. It's not the place to publish personal works and other unrelated material. You may wish to consider placing your work on another site. Thanks --AbsolutDan (talk) 15:51, 30 July 2006 (UTC)
Logos on List of 2006 NFL Quarterbacks[edit]
Please do not add the helmet logos on this article. As per Item number 8 on Wikipedia's policy on fair use images, copyrighted fair use logos are not permitted unless they add significantly to the article, such as identify the subject of an article, or specifically illustrate relevant points in the text. Thanks. Zzyzx11 (Talk) 00:59, 29 August 2006 (UTC)
Image copyright problem with Image:Chris.jpg[edit]
Thank you for uploading Image:Chris.jpg. However, it currently is missing information on its copyright status. Wikipedia takes copyright very seriously. It may be deleted soon, unless we can determine the license and the source of the image. If you know this information, then you can add a copyright tag to the image description page.
If you created this image yourself, please look at Wikipedia:Image copyright tags#For image creators, select one of those tags, and add it to the image. To do that, simply go to Image:Chris.jpg, click "edit this page", and add the appropriate tag. Be sure to remove the current tag indicating a lack of licensing!
If you have any questions, please feel free to ask me at User talk:Angr or at the media copyright questions page. Thanks again for your cooperation. —Angr 19:43, 6 February 2007 (UTC)
Hello, I've marked Image:Chris.jpg with {{rename}} because "Chris.jpg" is a generic and/or misleading name. It would be appreciated if you'd re-upload the image as Image:Chris_Bradley.jpg or another suitable name. Thank you, Cavenbatalk to me 23:25, 7 March 2007 (UTC)
Help me please[edit]
Hello Chris, I am a Mexican student (at Tec de Monterrey) and also a new wikipedian. Can you help me please? I would like to ask you some questions. - I need to know about your college major or degree and also in which school did you studied. - I also need to know if you think it would be difficult for me to study there, as I am not a native English speaker. Thank you. --Flea 1100962 20:11, 21 September 2007 (UTC)
Another editor has added the "{{prod}}" template to the article List of 2007 NFL Quarterbacks, suggesting that it be deleted according to the proposed deletion process. All contributions are appreciated, but the editor doesn't believe it satisfies Wikipedia's criteria for inclusion, and has explained why in the article (see also Wikipedia:What Wikipedia is not and Wikipedia:Notability). Please either work to improve the article if the topic is worthy of inclusion in Wikipedia or discuss the relevant issues at its talk page. If you remove the {{prod}} template, the article will not be deleted, but note that it may still be sent to Wikipedia:Articles for deletion, where it may be deleted if consensus to delete is reached. BJBot (talk) 23:14, 27 January 2008 (UTC)
Invite[edit]
Kimu 00:46, 23 March 2008 (UTC)
Speedy deletion nomination of HP 520[edit]
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A tag has been placed on HP 520 requesting that it be speedily deleted from Wikipedia. This has been done under section A1 of the criteria for speedy deletion, because it is a very short article providing little or no context to the reader. Please see Wikipedia:Stub for our minimum information standards for short articles. Also please note that articles must be on notable subjects and should provide references to reliable sources that verify their content.
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A discussion is taking place as to whether the article HP 520 is suitable for inclusion in Wikipedia according to Wikipedia's policies and guidelines or whether it should be deleted.
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Atlantis Vertigo Rave[edit]
Welcome!
Hello, Chris Bradley, and welcome to Wikipedia! Thank you for your contributions. I hope you like the place and decide to stay. Unfortunately, one or more of the pages you created, such as Atlantis Vertigo Rave, may not conform to some of Wikipedia's guidelines, and may soon be deleted.
There's a page about creating articles you may want to read called Your first article. If you are stuck, and looking for help, please come to the New contributors' help page, where experienced Wikipedians can answer any queries you have! Or, you can just type {{helpme}} on this page, and someone will show up shortly to answer your questions. Here are a few other good links for newcomers:
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I hope you enjoy editing here and being a Wikipedian! Please sign your name on talk pages using four tildes (~~~~); this will automatically produce your name and the date. If you have any questions, check out Wikipedia:Questions or ask me on my talk page. Again, welcome! 220 of Borg 13:56, 14 November 2011 (UTC)
Speedy deletion nomination of Atlantis Vertigo Rave[edit]
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A tag has been placed on Atlantis Vertigo Rave requesting that it be speedily deleted from Wikipedia. This has been done because the article, which appears to be about a real person, individual animal(s), an organization (band, club, company, etc.), or web content, does not indicate how or why the subject of the article is important or significant: that is, why an article about it should be included in an encyclopedia. Under the criteria for speedy deletion, articles that do not indicate the subject's importance or significance may be deleted at any time. Please see the guidelines for what is generally accepted as notable.
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See the guidelines for specific types of articles: biographies, websites, bands, or companies. 220 of Borg 13:56, 14 November 2011 (UTC)
Hi, Chris Bradley, If you don't want your article deleted I strongly suggest that you provide references from reliable sources. Even that is no guarantee th page will be retained.
Deletion discussion about Atlantis Vertigo Rave[edit]
Hello, Chris Bradley, and thanks for contributing to Wikipedia!
I wanted to let you know that some editors are discussing at Wikipedia:Articles for deletion/Atlantis Vertigo Rave whether the article Atlantis Vertigo Rave should be in Wikipedia. I encourage you to comment there if you think the article should be kept in the encyclopedia.
The deletion discussion doesn't mean you did something wrong. In fact, other editors may have useful suggestions on how you can continue editing and improving Atlantis Vertigo Rave, which I encourage you to do. If you have any questions, feel free to ask at the Help Desk.
Thanks again for your contributions! Catfish Jim and the soapdish 09:56, 15 November 2011 (UTC)
Your account will be renamed[edit]
Hello,
The developer team at Wikimedia is making some changes to how accounts work, as part of our on-going efforts to provide new and better tools for our users like cross-wiki notifications. These changes will mean you have the same account name everywhere. This will let us give you new features that will help you edit and discuss better, and allow more flexible user permissions for tools. One of the side-effects of this is that user accounts will now have to be unique across all 900 Wikimedia wikis. See the announcement for more information.
Unfortunately, your account clashes with another account also called Chris Bradley. To make sure that both of you can use all Wikimedia projects in future, we have reserved the name Chris Bradley~enwiki that only you will have. If you like it, you don't have to do anything. If you do not like it, you can pick out a different name. If you think you might own all of the accounts with this name and this message is in error, please visit Special:MergeAccount to check and attach all of your accounts to prevent them from being renamed.
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Community Liaison, Wikimedia Foundation
22:59, 19 March 2015 (UTC)
Renamed[edit]
This account has been renamed as part of single-user login finalisation. If you own this account you can log in using your previous username and password for more information. If you do not like this account's new name, you can choose your own using this form after logging in: Special:GlobalRenameRequest. -- Keegan (WMF) (talk)
11:35, 22 April 2015 (UTC)