Normally, spring is the season in which I'm probably the happiest. I don't know if it's the hippie in me that likes nature coming back to life, or the warmer weather, or what, but I'm feeling a little bitter so far.
I graduate in May, but I doubt any good comes of it. It just means I'm going to have to start paying back the ridiculous amount of student loan money I borrowed. Plus, my degree (Professional Writing) pretty much amounts to zero job prospects.
I'm working and going to school all the time right now. I don't get out much. Instead, I stay home and put off doing my homework until the last minute.
I keep thinking about where I'm going to live after college. My lease is up in June, and I can't really afford to stay where I'm at. My likely roommates are kinda flaky so living arrangements, aside from just location, are unreliable at best.
Bah. I'm just complaining. It'll get better probably.
This summer will hopefully lead to me writing more since I'll be in "the real world." Monetary needs might just force my hand. I plan to publish some stuff on Kindle--a novella and some short story anthologies. I'll still be interning at Speeding Bullet, and with any luck, I'll be getting paid as well as getting my comic book idea written and published.
I'd like to get the band up and running. More guitar playing and songwriting will calm me down, I bet. If it really takes off, we'll need to get pics of the band before we can play anywhere. I'll hit up my buddy, Grace, and see if she can help us out on that. And we'll need to throw a demo together. Oh yeah, and find a drummer.
Finding a girlfriend wouldn't be a bad idea either. I'm kind of a dumbass in that department so we'll see how that goes.
I think I'm done here. I need to do some homework.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Friday, April 1, 2011
Sometimes I Learn Stuff
So, a couple days ago I was at The Deli here in Norman with my accomplice TJ. We were there to see John Wayne's Bitches (great band) and Zombie Vs. Shark (they're good too). Something was in the air that night, and that something was fucking with us.
Regaled with tales of judo classes and sick children, TJ and I sat in the corner of the bar in a love seat and just observed the goings-on. I saw a girl walk into the bar holding a man's hand. Nothing special, right? Then I noticed her making out with that guy. Still not all that wild. Then I saw her make out with two other guys and a girl. That's where it got interesting.
I saw someone sneaking booze into the bar--a pint of Evan Williams to be exact. I helped them finish it off since I witnessed it. I watched a girl take her shirt off and was treated to an enchanting pair of nipple piercings. TJ told me to "just embrace the weirdness" at around this point. A pretty, hippie girl drooled on herself whilst staring at me, edged closer, and dribbled on my leg. Then I made out with her for a bit. Truly, odd occurrences must turn me on, and I embraced it as my friend advised. This is what I learned about myself: if a girl drools on me, I will kiss her.
TJ believes, and has believed for a few weeks, that he has suffered a psychotic break at some point in the past couple months. He came to this conclusion after the pieces of his life began to assemble themselves into something actually favorable and not shitty. The peculiarities of the night reinforced his notion that he is either locked up in a mental ward somewhere or that he is in a comatose state in some random hospital.
Toward the end of the evening, TJ announced that he would take control of his hallucinations by the next morn. His plan was to wake up a "ninja wizard." I informed him that if this were to happen he would, in fact, become a "ninjizard." I desperately hoped this would come true because (1) that would be awesome and (2) I would fashion myself into a "nymphomancer." But, alas, it was not to be.
The oddities I recounted for you (as well as those I did not) were just a consequence of living in a college town, I suppose. It's another reason why I love Norman. It beats living in my hometown nearly any day of the week, and if I ever move back, I assume it'll be a fight the whole way.
Regaled with tales of judo classes and sick children, TJ and I sat in the corner of the bar in a love seat and just observed the goings-on. I saw a girl walk into the bar holding a man's hand. Nothing special, right? Then I noticed her making out with that guy. Still not all that wild. Then I saw her make out with two other guys and a girl. That's where it got interesting.
I saw someone sneaking booze into the bar--a pint of Evan Williams to be exact. I helped them finish it off since I witnessed it. I watched a girl take her shirt off and was treated to an enchanting pair of nipple piercings. TJ told me to "just embrace the weirdness" at around this point. A pretty, hippie girl drooled on herself whilst staring at me, edged closer, and dribbled on my leg. Then I made out with her for a bit. Truly, odd occurrences must turn me on, and I embraced it as my friend advised. This is what I learned about myself: if a girl drools on me, I will kiss her.
TJ believes, and has believed for a few weeks, that he has suffered a psychotic break at some point in the past couple months. He came to this conclusion after the pieces of his life began to assemble themselves into something actually favorable and not shitty. The peculiarities of the night reinforced his notion that he is either locked up in a mental ward somewhere or that he is in a comatose state in some random hospital.
Toward the end of the evening, TJ announced that he would take control of his hallucinations by the next morn. His plan was to wake up a "ninja wizard." I informed him that if this were to happen he would, in fact, become a "ninjizard." I desperately hoped this would come true because (1) that would be awesome and (2) I would fashion myself into a "nymphomancer." But, alas, it was not to be.
The oddities I recounted for you (as well as those I did not) were just a consequence of living in a college town, I suppose. It's another reason why I love Norman. It beats living in my hometown nearly any day of the week, and if I ever move back, I assume it'll be a fight the whole way.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Why I love Norman, OK
Protesters of the Westboro Church (the "God hates fags"/"God hates the troops" people) are planning to rally against their appearance here in Norman by dressing up as zombies. Does it makes sense? Not really. Is it awesome? Yes, it is.
Here's a link to go to the facebook page for the event.
In other news, does smoking make me look sexy? No, it doesn't. It makes me look like I have a lazy eye.
Here's a link to go to the facebook page for the event.
In other news, does smoking make me look sexy? No, it doesn't. It makes me look like I have a lazy eye.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Top 10 Celebrity Deaths of 2009
It seemed like there were an abnormally high number of high-profile deaths in 2009 so Entertainment Tonight and their ilk--ahem, like the programming on CNN, MSNBC, and Fox News--had a lot of easy material to work from. Also, everyone gets to do some kind of "best of" list at the end of the year so, like the sheep I am, I wanted to do one, too.
Anyway, without further ado, I give my top 10 list for celebrity deaths in 2009...
Number 10
Billy Mays
Ahh, the late, great Billy Mays. I wondered how the infomercial world (or rather, direct response marketing world to be more accurate) was going to mourn the passing of their greatest asset, and they did so by continuing to run commercials in which he was in. The dead move product among us.
Number 9
Ed McMahon
Jovial sidekick of the late, great Johnny Carson. He spent the last years of his in and out of hospitals for broken bones and pneumonia, fighting bankruptcy, and trying to buy gold from us in Super Bowl commercials.
Number 8
Farrah Fawcett
Sex symbol of the 70s and 80s. Ms. Fawcett got her start as one of the Ten Most Beautiful Coeds in Cashbox magazine while a Tri-Delt in the late 60s, and then 30 years later after being in a sorority at the University of Texas she lost a three year battle with anal cancer. Bad things truly do come in threes.
Number 7
Patrick Swayze
Heartthrob of the 80s and early 90s. He died of pancreatic cancer after a late diagnosis. More than likely he's dancing and kicking ass up in the great road house in the sky.
Number 6
Ted Kennedy
Elder statesman and last of a storied generation of a certain family. He's the third in a row on this list to die of cancer--his of the brain variety. Being a Catholic, his belief says his soul is at rest in heaven. Being a Kennedy, I say his soul is at rest in that he doesn't have to work to keep the closet door closed anymore.
Number 5
David Carradine
Speaking of closets, Carradine was found dead in one in a hotel in Bangkok, Thailand, with his hands bound and a shoelace tied around his penis. It's the easily the oddest death on the list, but that's not why he's on here. (Honestly, though, the coolness of dying from an apparently botched sex act did bump him up a couple spots.) He's on here because he's awesome and because he was on Kung Fu... both of them.
Number 4
Dom DeLuise
The great comedic actor. If you care about comedy at all, you're well aware of the work of Mr. DeLuise. He died from from complications with cancer and kidney failure. That's two Cannonballers in one year--he and Farrah Fawcett. I think it's safe to say the last to go will be Jackie Chan because of his magical powers, and next to go will be Burt Reynolds. He'll die from choking on a sausage patty made from a pig that had anal cancer. (The tumors always get stuck in the back the throat no matter how much you chew them up.)
Number 3
Bea Arthur
THE golden girl and unfortunately another tally for cancer. When not doing a ton of showbiz work, she crusaded for animal rights and the rights of gays. She ranks so highly on the list because she was hot, hotter than Farrah Fawcett.
Number 2
Michael Jackson
He's known as the King of Pop and is the most commercially successful entertainer of all time. When he kicked bucket as a result of drug-induced cardiac arrest, people went crazy. Luckily, in this day and age we have 24-hour news networks so we could hear all the drama and drivel surrounding Jackson's death around the clock for two months. I am so glad there wasn't news to cover during that time.
Considering the intense coverage the media doled out on the death of Michael Jackson, who could ever top him and pull in the coveted top spot of my list?
Number 1
Walter Cronkite
"The most trusted man in America." He is without a shadow of doubt the greatest, most influential broadcast newsman of all time. Unwaveringly dedicated to educating and informing the public, he is an irreplaceable American icon.
It's been said his death has brought an end to an era, but it's never said what era that is. It's the era of good, honest, non-ratings-driven, televised journalism. We've re-entered an era of biased sensationalism, reminiscent of the yellow journalism of the late 19th century, and it'll probably be years before we can look back with the blessing of hindsight to truly see what we lost.
Honorable Mentions (in alphabetical order only):
Henry Gibson
John Hughes (Hughes should have been in the list, but I'd already made the list by the time I realized he'd passed away. What does this mean? It means my laziness outweighs my "integrity" as a "journalist.")
Steve McNair
Ricardo Montalban
Les Paul
**Edit**
I just found out Robert S. McNamara died this year as well. That's huge. I don't think I could have made a joke about him, though, so he'll just be an honorable mention. Damn. I've got to get my shit together.
Anyway, without further ado, I give my top 10 list for celebrity deaths in 2009...
Number 10
Billy Mays
Ahh, the late, great Billy Mays. I wondered how the infomercial world (or rather, direct response marketing world to be more accurate) was going to mourn the passing of their greatest asset, and they did so by continuing to run commercials in which he was in. The dead move product among us.
Number 9
Ed McMahon
Jovial sidekick of the late, great Johnny Carson. He spent the last years of his in and out of hospitals for broken bones and pneumonia, fighting bankruptcy, and trying to buy gold from us in Super Bowl commercials.
Number 8
Farrah Fawcett
Sex symbol of the 70s and 80s. Ms. Fawcett got her start as one of the Ten Most Beautiful Coeds in Cashbox magazine while a Tri-Delt in the late 60s, and then 30 years later after being in a sorority at the University of Texas she lost a three year battle with anal cancer. Bad things truly do come in threes.
Number 7
Patrick Swayze
Heartthrob of the 80s and early 90s. He died of pancreatic cancer after a late diagnosis. More than likely he's dancing and kicking ass up in the great road house in the sky.
Number 6
Ted Kennedy
Elder statesman and last of a storied generation of a certain family. He's the third in a row on this list to die of cancer--his of the brain variety. Being a Catholic, his belief says his soul is at rest in heaven. Being a Kennedy, I say his soul is at rest in that he doesn't have to work to keep the closet door closed anymore.
Number 5
David Carradine
Speaking of closets, Carradine was found dead in one in a hotel in Bangkok, Thailand, with his hands bound and a shoelace tied around his penis. It's the easily the oddest death on the list, but that's not why he's on here. (Honestly, though, the coolness of dying from an apparently botched sex act did bump him up a couple spots.) He's on here because he's awesome and because he was on Kung Fu... both of them.
Number 4
Dom DeLuise
The great comedic actor. If you care about comedy at all, you're well aware of the work of Mr. DeLuise. He died from from complications with cancer and kidney failure. That's two Cannonballers in one year--he and Farrah Fawcett. I think it's safe to say the last to go will be Jackie Chan because of his magical powers, and next to go will be Burt Reynolds. He'll die from choking on a sausage patty made from a pig that had anal cancer. (The tumors always get stuck in the back the throat no matter how much you chew them up.)
Number 3
Bea Arthur
THE golden girl and unfortunately another tally for cancer. When not doing a ton of showbiz work, she crusaded for animal rights and the rights of gays. She ranks so highly on the list because she was hot, hotter than Farrah Fawcett.
Number 2
Michael Jackson
He's known as the King of Pop and is the most commercially successful entertainer of all time. When he kicked bucket as a result of drug-induced cardiac arrest, people went crazy. Luckily, in this day and age we have 24-hour news networks so we could hear all the drama and drivel surrounding Jackson's death around the clock for two months. I am so glad there wasn't news to cover during that time.
Considering the intense coverage the media doled out on the death of Michael Jackson, who could ever top him and pull in the coveted top spot of my list?
Number 1
Walter Cronkite
"The most trusted man in America." He is without a shadow of doubt the greatest, most influential broadcast newsman of all time. Unwaveringly dedicated to educating and informing the public, he is an irreplaceable American icon.
It's been said his death has brought an end to an era, but it's never said what era that is. It's the era of good, honest, non-ratings-driven, televised journalism. We've re-entered an era of biased sensationalism, reminiscent of the yellow journalism of the late 19th century, and it'll probably be years before we can look back with the blessing of hindsight to truly see what we lost.
Honorable Mentions (in alphabetical order only):
Henry Gibson
John Hughes (Hughes should have been in the list, but I'd already made the list by the time I realized he'd passed away. What does this mean? It means my laziness outweighs my "integrity" as a "journalist.")
Steve McNair
Ricardo Montalban
Les Paul
**Edit**
I just found out Robert S. McNamara died this year as well. That's huge. I don't think I could have made a joke about him, though, so he'll just be an honorable mention. Damn. I've got to get my shit together.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
The Oregon Trail Chronicles
Alright, so, this is something I wrote over two years ago, and I recently read it again. It's kind of cheating in that it's not a "fresh" blog post because it wasn't written for the blog and is lacking any degree of timeliness. Whatever. The other day when I was reading the crap I used to write for myself I thoroughly enjoyed it so I wanted to share...
Oregon Trail Chronicles: The Diary of Ezekiel Hughes
17th day of August, 1848
I watched from the bank as Jebediah tried to save a few dollars and float the river instead of paying for the ferry. He lost 8 oxen and his youngest son. He still has 20 oxen left, though. Damn Jew banker. He'll probably buy 50 boxes of ammunition and another son at the next fort.
25th day of August, 1848
Well, I'll be damned if Joseph don't have dysentery for the third time this month. I wish the good Lord would let me know what this boy has been eating. He leaves at night when we're asleep and comes back looking like quite a site to behold with leaves in his hair, dirt all over his face n' clothes and somehow smelling worse than he did the day before. He swears to his ma and me that he ain't eatin' nothin' out there, but I been a young'un once myself, and I know a fib when I hear one.
8th day of September, 1848
I hate to do it, but it must be done. We're low on food, and I'm going to have to make the whole family cut back on their daily rations. I'd go hunt for something, but the boys and myself used up all the ammunition shooting every buffalo that we saw soon after setting out from Missouri.
13th day of September, 1848
Little Anne broke her leg today when she was convinced that she could fly off the top of our wagon and catch one of those vultures that have been following us around these past few days. Apparently, she's been eating just about anything that she comes across out here in the wilderness since I cut back on her cornbread, and she found herself a whole mess o' those "Devil Mushrooms." I couldn't find a very straight stick to set the leg in the cast we made for her, but I'm not too worried. My ma used to always say about broken bones: "If the good Lord Jesus wants that you have straight 'uns. He'll make it so."
Oregon Trail Chronicles: The Diary of Ezekiel Hughes
17th day of August, 1848
I watched from the bank as Jebediah tried to save a few dollars and float the river instead of paying for the ferry. He lost 8 oxen and his youngest son. He still has 20 oxen left, though. Damn Jew banker. He'll probably buy 50 boxes of ammunition and another son at the next fort.
25th day of August, 1848
Well, I'll be damned if Joseph don't have dysentery for the third time this month. I wish the good Lord would let me know what this boy has been eating. He leaves at night when we're asleep and comes back looking like quite a site to behold with leaves in his hair, dirt all over his face n' clothes and somehow smelling worse than he did the day before. He swears to his ma and me that he ain't eatin' nothin' out there, but I been a young'un once myself, and I know a fib when I hear one.
8th day of September, 1848
I hate to do it, but it must be done. We're low on food, and I'm going to have to make the whole family cut back on their daily rations. I'd go hunt for something, but the boys and myself used up all the ammunition shooting every buffalo that we saw soon after setting out from Missouri.
13th day of September, 1848
Little Anne broke her leg today when she was convinced that she could fly off the top of our wagon and catch one of those vultures that have been following us around these past few days. Apparently, she's been eating just about anything that she comes across out here in the wilderness since I cut back on her cornbread, and she found herself a whole mess o' those "Devil Mushrooms." I couldn't find a very straight stick to set the leg in the cast we made for her, but I'm not too worried. My ma used to always say about broken bones: "If the good Lord Jesus wants that you have straight 'uns. He'll make it so."
Friday, November 6, 2009
The Past 24 Hours of Lame
Let's see here. Twenty-four hours ago I was wrapping up a hockey broadcast and being somewhat inebriated. Right now I'm tired, sore, and hungry, and my shoes are soaking wet. I'll fill in the middle.
After going home from my broadcasting duties I sat in my apartment and allowed myself to imbibe a tad more. From here the only logical course of action for me to take would have been to drunkenly text someone, and so, I did. I texted a young lady (the one from the "About a Girl" post) and told her she should dump her boyfriend because she deserved better. Smooth. An incoming call from her phone promptly greeted me.
When I answered it was not the voice of the girl who owned the phone on the line. It was her roommate. I subsequently received an earful of frantic invective.
"You have no right to tell her what to do! He is the best thing that's ever happened to her!"
"Whoa, whoa. Wait." I tried to gain some control of the conversation but to no avail.
"Don't you tell me 'whoa!' He treats her like a princess!"
She said something else, and I said, "Hey!" That was no use, though, because she'd already hung up. I was upset to the point I was shaking a little bit, but it was weird. I didn't feel like I was that bothered by it, but there was physical evidence that spoke to the contrary.
I texted the roommate and told her not to defend the guy. She texted me back to say it wasn't my business and that it was up to the girl's friends, family, and boyfriend to look out for her.
"Well, make sure you and her friends do a good job."
I guess I lost my friendship status. My number of friends on facebook has probably dropped in the past 24 hours. I'm pissed at myself for even saying anything. I could've waited for a better time to shoot my mouth off, but the alcohol makes the trigger itchy. I'm going to have to quit emotionally investing myself in people.
Bleh.
For my next trick I smoked weed for the first time in months. Despite all the drama and hoopla, I had a pretty good time. I didn't go to bed until late as a result, and I woke up really early the following morning for no reason at all.
I took on some homework when I arose from bed, and a little later I had to go to work several hours earlier than usual. I just recently clocked-out, and I regret to say I never took a break. My legs are killing me, and I'm cold because my clothes are wet from cleaning up. I need to take a shower, but I don't think I'm gonna make it. I'll probably just crash and be stinky.
Just before I got home a different lady-friend of mine told me she broke up with her boyfriend. If I was looking for results I guess I was whispering in the wrong girl's ear.
I need to lie down and take off these clothes. I'm pretty sure I forgot some stuff, but it's not important. None of it is.
After going home from my broadcasting duties I sat in my apartment and allowed myself to imbibe a tad more. From here the only logical course of action for me to take would have been to drunkenly text someone, and so, I did. I texted a young lady (the one from the "About a Girl" post) and told her she should dump her boyfriend because she deserved better. Smooth. An incoming call from her phone promptly greeted me.
When I answered it was not the voice of the girl who owned the phone on the line. It was her roommate. I subsequently received an earful of frantic invective.
"You have no right to tell her what to do! He is the best thing that's ever happened to her!"
"Whoa, whoa. Wait." I tried to gain some control of the conversation but to no avail.
"Don't you tell me 'whoa!' He treats her like a princess!"
She said something else, and I said, "Hey!" That was no use, though, because she'd already hung up. I was upset to the point I was shaking a little bit, but it was weird. I didn't feel like I was that bothered by it, but there was physical evidence that spoke to the contrary.
I texted the roommate and told her not to defend the guy. She texted me back to say it wasn't my business and that it was up to the girl's friends, family, and boyfriend to look out for her.
"Well, make sure you and her friends do a good job."
I guess I lost my friendship status. My number of friends on facebook has probably dropped in the past 24 hours. I'm pissed at myself for even saying anything. I could've waited for a better time to shoot my mouth off, but the alcohol makes the trigger itchy. I'm going to have to quit emotionally investing myself in people.
Bleh.
For my next trick I smoked weed for the first time in months. Despite all the drama and hoopla, I had a pretty good time. I didn't go to bed until late as a result, and I woke up really early the following morning for no reason at all.
I took on some homework when I arose from bed, and a little later I had to go to work several hours earlier than usual. I just recently clocked-out, and I regret to say I never took a break. My legs are killing me, and I'm cold because my clothes are wet from cleaning up. I need to take a shower, but I don't think I'm gonna make it. I'll probably just crash and be stinky.
Just before I got home a different lady-friend of mine told me she broke up with her boyfriend. If I was looking for results I guess I was whispering in the wrong girl's ear.
I need to lie down and take off these clothes. I'm pretty sure I forgot some stuff, but it's not important. None of it is.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Stress
I couldn’t wait to get to work this past Friday. I even went in nearly two hours early. I don’t know why, but I felt like I just needed to be there, like it would make me feel better. It did, too. All my pent up stress just melted away as I started shrink-wrapping foam trays of beef.
It seems like when I’m at work I’m not stressed out because in the back of my head I feel I can use my job as an excuse for not getting my studying done. Accordingly, everything that’s bothering me just goes away when I’m clocked-in, and I don’t even think about school at all.
I’ve tried doing homework there, but it’s impossible. Customers or employees are always trying to talk to me, and starting and stopping reading all the time to help people obliterates any degree of concentration I can muster.
Playing guitar used to help me relax, but that relief is pretty much nonexistent these days. I started taking guitar lessons in August. I’ve become a better guitarist, but now I basically have guitar homework every week. That plus worrying about performing up to my teacher’s expectations just adds on the tension.
My guitar lessons are on Fridays. So, I actually canceled my lesson the other day so that I could go to work before I was scheduled. When I told my teacher I was called in to work, he told me to not let them make me “their slave.” I think I’m going to put my guitar tutelage on hold for a while so I can have my job and my music to calm my nerves.
To add on to the anxiety, a dermatologist told me I have fairly good chance of developing melanoma in the coming years thanks to the frequency of moles on my skin and the sporadic occurrences of skin cancer in my unfortunate family history. Sweet. In all honesty, the idea of cancer isn’t bothering me all that much. I’ve been trying to get a mole excised since July though, and doctors keep passing me around like a damn case of crabs instead of actually removing it. Now I’ve got another appointment with a different dermatologist December 7th on my birthday, and a happy one it will be, I’m sure.
Anyway, I’ve been on edge because of school and doctors, and a back massage would be really nice right now. Maybe I can get that girl I’m stressed out about to show me some love...
It seems like when I’m at work I’m not stressed out because in the back of my head I feel I can use my job as an excuse for not getting my studying done. Accordingly, everything that’s bothering me just goes away when I’m clocked-in, and I don’t even think about school at all.
I’ve tried doing homework there, but it’s impossible. Customers or employees are always trying to talk to me, and starting and stopping reading all the time to help people obliterates any degree of concentration I can muster.
Playing guitar used to help me relax, but that relief is pretty much nonexistent these days. I started taking guitar lessons in August. I’ve become a better guitarist, but now I basically have guitar homework every week. That plus worrying about performing up to my teacher’s expectations just adds on the tension.
My guitar lessons are on Fridays. So, I actually canceled my lesson the other day so that I could go to work before I was scheduled. When I told my teacher I was called in to work, he told me to not let them make me “their slave.” I think I’m going to put my guitar tutelage on hold for a while so I can have my job and my music to calm my nerves.
To add on to the anxiety, a dermatologist told me I have fairly good chance of developing melanoma in the coming years thanks to the frequency of moles on my skin and the sporadic occurrences of skin cancer in my unfortunate family history. Sweet. In all honesty, the idea of cancer isn’t bothering me all that much. I’ve been trying to get a mole excised since July though, and doctors keep passing me around like a damn case of crabs instead of actually removing it. Now I’ve got another appointment with a different dermatologist December 7th on my birthday, and a happy one it will be, I’m sure.
Anyway, I’ve been on edge because of school and doctors, and a back massage would be really nice right now. Maybe I can get that girl I’m stressed out about to show me some love...
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