Monday, December 31, 2007

Ho, boys-o-boy, this'll be a crazy one

How many BlackToppers will raid CHSR
for the New Year's Day episode of
Ashes, Paper & Beans live from 7 to 8 pm?

Biff wants WhiteFreather to cut his hair
live on-air and he's thinking One-Eyed
Josephine might brave the airwaves

No matter how hurtin you might be
from the biggest birthday party
of the year, of the night before

New Year's Day 2008 is the day
the BlackTop MotorCycle Gang
takes over Broken Joe's show

It's time to count yourself in:
time to be heard by the herd;
time to unearth your best words

Friday, December 7, 2007

Eric Gale to appear on Ashes, Paper & Beans

11 Dec, Tuesday, 7-8 pm

Ashes, Paper & Beans: Fredericton's Writing & Art Show
with producer–host Joe Blades.
CHSR 97.9 FM, Fredericton, NB.

Guest: performing songwriter Eric Gale
(a BlackTop MotorCycle Gang member)
live with guitar!

[Weather and everything else permitting.]

Sunday, November 11, 2007

Congratulations, Chris!!!

Last night, BTMGer Chris Giles was presented the New Brunswick Joy award at the Silver Wave Film Festival. The award has a value of $16,500 comprised of PS Atlantic filmmaking equipment rental services ($10,000) and materials ($500), NB Film cash ($1,500), Kodak Canada film stock ($1,500) and NB Filmmakers' Cooperative equipment and post production facilities ($3,500).

I remember, back in the summer, Biff telling me that he'd been busy helping write a short film script. This was the result: Chris' story, scripted by him and Biff, submitted for this award. Now, as Chris, wearing sunglasses in the bright lights, said at the podium (with Margo Flewelling of NB Film and co-emcee Josh Linton), he has to make a film.

Monday, November 5, 2007

the tortoise and the hare

One early evening after a terrible storm a silky furred hare ventured
out of his subterranean home. He had been in his hole for many hours
and needed to stretch his anxious legs. Rounding a sage bush he
discovered his friend the tortoise lying on his back with a branch
cracked over his belly.

"My dear friend, let me help you... then we can race! You beat me before but I am better now, more wise," he said to the tortoise, quivering in anticipation.

He flipped the tortoise over and pulled back in alarm, taking in the
tortoise's crushed shell. He twitched, he ticked and he trembled.
His friend was not all the way out of his shell; only the tip of his
beaky nose and his clawed feet protruded.

"Come out, come out of your shell, my friend,” he said, “and we will
race!” The chill of the night swept around them, bring cold tears to
the hare's eyes.

"I cannot," said the tortoise's muffled voice, "for my shell is
cracked, and a shard is pointing at my heart. If I move it will
pierce me, I will die."

"But you must come out and race me. You will die if you don't come
out. Come out," said the hare, "you don't need that shell, you can be
free...! Come and run with me over that hill. See! There is a little
stream, a brook, a lake, some seaweed and snails... come, come, let us

The hare stared deeply into the tortoise’s eyes. "Don't you see it?" he asked.

The tortoise looked over his old adversary's shoulder. He let out his
breath and felt a stab of pain.

"I do, I do see it. I will race you! I will win again, I will be free!"

The hare inhaled the early evening frost and started to run slowly,
"Come, my friend, you must run fast to catch me...!" His tears were frozen on his long lovely hare lashes.

"Come... come..." he breathed.

"I am coming!" said the tortoise, as he stretched his neck out and
pushed his legs free. His heart beat faster as his shell broke his

"I am coming! I am free, I am coming, I am free..."

And he ran after the hare, with greater speed then he ever demonstrated before.

Sunday, November 4, 2007

More at the door!!!

Eric Gale
Kim Vose Jones
We want to hear your words . . . sung, whispered, spoken . . . burning treadmarks on the road

Tuesday, October 23, 2007


Mireille Eagan
Michael Venart
Andrea Crabbe
Chris Giles
Karen Ruet


So glad you could join us!

Saturday, October 20, 2007

What's a Tread?

Three of the four Tread published for the BlackTop reading raid on 1 Sept @ Fredericton City Hall Square.

In the tradition of rob mclennan's ongoing above/ground press poem broadseet series and the less frequent a little something . . . broadsheets from Broken Jaw Press, some members of the BlackTop have started producing Tread broadsheets to hand out at the gang's "reading raids" and elsewhere.

Each Tread opens to reveal a piece of wordage that you can pin to your wall like a poster. They also have a bio note informing or obscuring the writer-author. They may even have author photos or somesuch representation. Who knows for sure until after they happen and you've been raided . . . :-)

Thursday, October 18, 2007

more BlackToppers

wasn't there . . . where? . . . on the weekend or (?) when it happened but it appears the M+M [Mireille Eagan + Michael Venart] are now in the BlackTop MotorCycle Gang. Here they are captured against the railing in Wi(l)ser's during the 'appy 'our raid that netted Andrea and Karen after another of Broken Joe's Random Acts of Poetry.

Monday, October 15, 2007

raid on the studio of a blacktop motorcyle gang artist

it was an overcast evening and pre-halloween zombies were howling in the back alleys when when the writing hurts like hell workshop descended on studio4ward to poke around, listen to the sights, hear the colors, smell the contours, and touch the magic of a place of where miracles are born.

words were written and words were recited, and in the end, something happened.

writers took another step towards becoming writers.

from left to right are bill, fiona, jilanna, jolene, judy, ian, and claire. seated is whitefeather, a brilliant crafter, artist, singer, writer and incredibly special person, thinking wonderful thoughts about writer soup, similar to tourist soup (which can trigger recipe searches), but with a little more imagery.

missing from the pic is jenn, but she was there in spirit.


Good news all - Chris Giles has, upon request by four members of the BTMG, agreed to join us in our verbal reverie.
WELCOME CHRIS!! Get ready to raid and burn up entire towns with words too hot for words.

Sunday, October 14, 2007

still working like crazy for odd sunday at molly's

still working like crazy on "one-eyed josephine is on the loose tonight" for the reading raid at molly's this sunday ... oct 21.

in fact, i even have a special shirt for the occasion ... my "one-eyed josephine blacktop motorcyle gang reading raid on odd sunday's at molly's madness shirt" ... here's what it looks like ...

after the reading, i'm giving it away, buttons and all ...

btw, i may need to borrow a skirt and a big purse from somebody ... not for anything weird ... well, yeah, for something weird ...

reading raid at studio4ward

it was a fiercely non-stormy day about to break with rain and fire four when members of the blacktop motorcycle gang converged on studio4ward for a reading raid

the audience was aghast

but the raid was a rave

don't miss the pandemonium and havoc next sunday when odd sundays at molly's features the blacktop motorcycle gang

Friday, October 5, 2007

the gang grows!

The gods were laughing today as they watched mortals trying so damn hard to be happy in the hours before un- took over. They shook the earth. Mmembers of the Blacktop MotorCycle Gang had to swerve around or jump widening cracks in the roadways as two new members landed in their midst:

Andrea Crabbe, seen here with BTMGer and blogmistress WhiteFeather, is one of the new gangsters.

Earlier today, at Gallery Connexion, Karen Ruet was a willing listener for a Random Act of Poetry (not to be confused with a BTMG "reading raid") by BTMGer Broken Joe. Tonight, absent though she was, Karen became a Blacktop.

A hearty welcome and clinking of glasses ensued before the merry band headed out lookin' for adventure . . .

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

yr. invited

SURGE! 4.2

Friday, September 21st, 7pm

384 Queen St. (upstairs)

Open Studio exhibition of works in progress by:

Karen Casey Photography
Mazerolle Gallery

Poetry Reading by UNB Writer in Residence:

Patricia Young

Musical Performances by:

John Born (laptop beats and loops)

Counting on Downstairs (drone)
[Mireille Eagan
Chris Giles
Eric Hill
Michael Venart]

Event is a fundraiser for the Fredericton Sexual Assault Crisis Centre

Admission by Donation

Monday, September 10, 2007

biff's poem for the nude dude reading raid

(I call this a planned spontaneous outburst of powerful frustration.)

fuck this – fuck that

an ode to 21st century post-digital semi-robotic Facebook-coital existential confusion

fuck this
fuck that
screw this
screw that
to hell with this
to hell with that
down with this
down with that
im through with this
im through with that
ive had it with this
ive had it with that
im leaving this
im leaving that
im pissed at this
im pissed at that
im bored with this
im bored with that
im tired of this
im tired of that
now listen to this
its tit for tat
this game is screwy
its all kablooey
so how about you
have you had it too
it’s all so plastic
I’m feeling drastic
I want to hit something
I want to smash something
I want to demolish something
I want to strike out
I want to
I want to
I want to
I don’t know what
I want to
O fuck
what the hell am i saying
whats this shit im braying
whats this thing im feeling
like the skin on my soul is peeling
and under it all
another wall
theres nowhere to go
nowhere too low
to hide from this thing
im trapped in this
im trapped in that
I cant get out
im going shout
im starting to doubt
I think I’ll pout
What’s it all about
My head’s on wrong
I’ve lost my dong
It fell right off
And now I cant boff
But that’s ok
I wasn’t using it anyway
But that’s neither here nor there
This is the existential snare
You don’t know what it’s all about
You have to invent it every day
Choose your daily lifetime route
Cause you’re the only one who has the say
No gods to blame, no destined path
And if by chance you stray away
Away from what, there’s nothing there
It’s up to you, it’s just your ass
That catches fire and pulls you down
You fucking clown
Into the fire
That sacrificial pyre
That burns away reason
And turns to treason
Against everything that rhymes
So fuck the meter
And fuck the rhyme
And fuck these times
And TV
And Facebook
and radio
And the top ten
And the bottom ten
And the top fifty
And donuts
Let’s consider the donut
A hole surrounded yummy
Almost like a vagina
Only not as yummy
Eat the hole
Swallow it whole
It’s low in fat
But fat tastes good
Like real food should
But it’s out to kill ya
But it’s sooooo good
So what the fuck
You only live once
Take a big bite outta spite
cause the fuckers who make the rules
are a bunch of simpering fools
who don’t know their asses
ha ha you thought I was going to say
hole in the ground
I was
But I forgot
So fuck you
And fuck me
And fuck him
And fuck her
And fuck them
And fuck those
And fuck these
And fuck the status
And fuck the quo
And fuck this shirt I’m wearing
And fuck these crocks on my feet
And fuck the bile in all our stomachs
And fuck the smell of our feet
And fuck the sweat on our backs
And fuck the tattoo we always wanted
And fuck Barney
Oh yeah, fuck the purple dinosaur
He’s eating your kids’ brains and
There’s no mercy when you’re on a fuck rant
There’s no I can
There’s no I can’t
There’s only you, you fucking fool
Making life bit by bit by bit by bit by bit by bit
And what does this mean
I think I just fucked my spleen
But what the fuck
My life is mine
Your life is yours
My fate is mine
Your fate is yours
My path is mine
Your path is yours
And if by chance we should meet and have a beer
Lift our glasses and sing out a cheer
And drink till our senses go … doink … in the night
Scream songs of joy and have a bloody fight
Stomp our feet in a banshee dance
Howl at the moon for an earth mother glance
And fall in the gutter and swallow the clutter
I just want you to know
How I feel about this
It’ll never happen
It’s too fucking late
The beer’s gone flat and the fists are packin’ hate
The moon goddess turns her back in disgust
The songs of joy are blood and rust
There’s no comfort here
No song of cheer
Fuck this
And fuck that

(Yes ... yes ... the formatting is fucked ... I know that ...)

reading raid on the nude dude's turf

this is the nude dude ...

he keeps bad things from happening to freddie beach ... or maybe it's the other way around ... across the street from him, there's a webcam that announces the dude's nudeness to the world 24/ ... perfect place for a blacktop motorcycle gang Reading raid with ...

whitefeather and ...

old skull and ...

the angry john and ...

broken joe and ...


and then we all took our clothes off and mooned the dude

and backStreet eric

and the audience

at least ... the others did. I didn't. And whitefeather didn't. And I guess the angry john didn't ... oh yeah, old skull didn't ... and ... hmm ... come to think of it ... broken joe didn't

but I think backstreet eric did ... from the second floor of the building across the street

and ... I just remembered ... the audience mooned us ... yes, they did ... bad, bad audience

Tuesday, August 28, 2007

ALERT: Gang members on the road!

Four members of the BlackTop Mororcycle Gang have been spotted on the streets of Fredwrekton. They are believed to be converging on CHSR 97.9 FM to take over the airwaves at 7 pm. The happy hour staff at Windsor Castle Bar are completly unaware that they are also being targeted by the gang after the BTMG have laid waste to another episode of Ashes, Paper & Beans.

Listen up or be there!

Sunday, August 26, 2007

rumours abound that something
unexpected and artsy might happen
@ this potential site: aerial view

no, not drive-by poetry
though members of the blacktop
motorcycle gang might be inclined

might happen in front of city hall
near freddie the nude dude fountain
at high noon the next two saturdays

no, not the spanish inquisition
though "nobody expects . . ."
is a pretty good guess ;-)

it might involve live poets
caught on security cameras
and the unsuspecting public

it might be a reading raid

Tuesday, July 24, 2007

WhiteFeather in the FAA Casemate

Hey! If you've not been keeping' up on things, or think that summer [What a . . . !] is all about vacations in lalaland, think again. This week, until 5 pm Friday, the extraordinary WhiteFeather is in artist residency in the FAA casemate (in the gdn fl of the Soldr Brks bldg opposite the carafe college [ha!] on Queen St, F'top [wha' Tourism fred. labels the "historic garrison district". Her co-resident this week, 21-27 Julius 2007, is the great painter and more! Deanna Musgrave. They are both part of Studio4ward.

WhiteFeather is waxing journals, drilling teeth, acquiring bones (coyote, deer, seal, beaver, etc.), funerary flowers, and more, and recombining them. Deanna is painting to Germanic operatic renderings of great Chinese poems rich with feeling and fraught with contradiction.

Monday, July 16, 2007

                                                                          a i r
When are we next to                


Monday, July 2, 2007

typewriter on the green is green

(NOTE: As part of Canada Day celebrations, a group of local artists Painted The Town Red ... well, that was the theme and the works they produced were awesome. Joe Blades spent the day with two of them, sitting on the grass with his typewriter ... yep, typewriter ... and wrote the following poem.)

underneath black paint i added
years ago in another town
manual not electric greenery
on the clover under leafed tree
shadow of canada flag over me
sun and wind and big clouds—
clouds trailing rain not reaching
all the way down to the ground

sterling creek pony rides nearby
trap kids holding parent's hands
walk a short circle inside rope corral
a large red on white sign advising
wash hands after contact with animals
—good idea not often practised
especially as there is a wash station
and so many dogs in holiday crowd

firebird and royal fireworks music
is the stravinsky or handel in the arcs
feathers and maple leaves first layer
on the gessoed sheet of plywood
today's harder canvas for the five
paint the town red commissioned artists
wind shear and rain in a blue wash
makes deanna start to like her painting

the elephant is hidden in dana's
fields of colour layered and layered
more hidden than the stag in blue
glade in third floor studio4ward
hidden as this morning's doe
briefly on gibson trail watching
me on bicycle roll closer to her
before she leaps into tree shadows

faraway bagpipes are playing
likely part of the marshalling
parade—two long lines of people
lining the curbs of half of pointe
sainte-anne drive parade route
for the about to begin green
harmonious with ever-changing
earth creating and recreating

korean drums and percussion
kiwanis bear costume huggers
the town’s largest gideon bible
on a wagon pulled by a horse
chinese dragon dances on road
the pipes and drums approach
deanna steps on her palette
a painted heel for her art

i am sprayed with fine splatter
not from heavy clouds overhead
orange drops off dana’s brush
on poem paper clothing and me
almost mushroom cloud shape
thunderheads on northside and
i’m asked if there are still
bouncy castles or pony rides

red wine in my water bottle
my typewriter not so quiet
on this red and white day
painting with words this town
my red road red word world
charlotte paints a big leaf
green and her older sister
adds small falling light green

more than child interaction
there's parents and audience
watching them and me create
with all that we have available
self portrait smiley cat face
in the otherwise so abstract
reality of coffee cans and
large frozen yogurt pails

paint and more surprise paint
charlotte and janice the able
assistants as a truly promising
raincloud drifts along the river
writing words with the magic
buttons immediate and right there
no erase function on typewriter
x-ed out the only true edit

truly busy crowd now happening
deanna's wish for children
to collaborate has happened
the grey clouds approach
this typer a bouncy thing
never before seen by some
—not an inflated castle
or another island for no

rain still hasn't happened
burnt-out artists in public
marilyn flat-out on grass
dana returns with coffees
bag of grapes by my hand
a love fredericton t-shirt-
wearing challenged younger sister
of someone sits here talking

her father setting off fireworks
from carleton park 10:45 tonight
was in the greened parade earlier
handing out sun-maid raisins
with one way jesus stickers
on every unsuspecting box
followed by police service dog
bear on i can follow the rules

je peux suivre les règles sticker
darth dust devils and lawnmower-
chewn 7 of spades playing card
element(s) wind water fire earth
and the pony wranglers haul out
as the music turns hard country
a little burnt sienna luminosity
meredith approaches across the grass

vocalist calls out "are there
any firefighters in the crowd today?"
answered with a few whoops
as paint splatters across art
water runs down the surface
layer upon layers whooped
and highlighted for the late
late arrival of biff the fanatic

Tuesday, June 19, 2007

the blacktop motorcycle gang is now 8

yes. 8. last night joe blades had eric and biff on his radio show "ashes, paper, and beans" and he was assimilated into the blacktop motorcycle gang. joe's the one who did the post card art posted earlier. he writes, photos, publishes, paints, broadcasts, films and lots of other cool stuff. here he is broadcasting ...

his name and links would be at the right of this posting, 'cept I can't seem to figure out how to modify the template. but this will be done and, in the meantime, welcome to the literary blood pack, joe.

Sunday, June 10, 2007

When BTMGers Create ... the world shakes

It was a dark and stormless night when BTMG guy John said, "Ain't nothin' happenin'."

"'Cause we ain't makin' it happen," growled BTMG guy Old Skull.

"Remember that fuckhead's 21st Century balland, I Just Wanna Punch You In The Face?" barked John.

"Fuckin' A!" snarled Old Skull. "Let's create!"

And so the BlackTop MotorCyle Gangists created ...

And then they celebrated.

Sunday, June 3, 2007

One Day on the Patio at Wilsers

So there I was, sitting on the patio at Wilsers on a sunny Saturday afternoon and suddenly I'm surrounded by a member of the BlackTop MotorCycle Gang. I work up the courage to say, "Nice day when it rains beer, eh?" And he immediate countered with a symbolic summary of the ontological proof for the non-existence of intelligence in the human race ...

Seconds later, he and his friend were attacked and devoured by a horde of angry amoebas who were hiding in their beer glasses.

A random Leafs fan made fun of the devourment. After much debate the amoebas devoured him as well.

I checked my glass for one cell threats and quietly finished my beer.

Friday, June 1, 2007

Reading Raids & Dandelion Wine

If we read from the landing overlooking the food court, security will have an excuse to evict us. If we get a table (maybe with an umbrella) and just stand up one at a time and read, they'll just have to listen. We may have to buy a coffee from Tim's.

And now for Biff's recipe for dandelion wine ...

Wait till the first dandelion blossoms. Second and third are OK, but with successive blossoms, the flowers become increasingly bitter and that bitterness is carried over to the wine, causing the imbiber to become irritable and prone to listening to old Marilyn Manson recordings. Body cutting and facial tattooing may also ensue.

Pick 4 quarts of flowers making sure to get as little of the stem as possible. (BTW, the leaves make a great salad, especially with Italian dressing.)

Add the 4 quarts of flowers to 4 quarts of water in an open container. (Note: Make sure the container is clean and free of Ebola, Lassa Fever and E.coli 0157:H7.) Let the mixture sit for 6 to 7 days. It’s going to smell like death warmed over twice, so put it someplace where it won’t offend guests and loved ones.

After 6 or 7 days, strain the fluid until it’s as clear and free of flower top materials as possible. Cheese cloth or panty hose make great straining materials. You may have to repeat this process two or three times. (Note: Again, make sure everything is clean.)

Now, you should have just under 4 quarts of smelly dandelion liquid. To this, add 4 pounds of honey. For stronger wine, use 2 pounds of honey and 2 pounds of sugar. The taste won’t be a lot different, but you may wake up in a ditch somewhere in Zeeland.

Now, add an ounce of brewer’s yeast. You can buy this at the Bulk Barn or Scoop ‘n Save. If you use anything other than brewer’s yeast, your wine will taste like shit.

Now, add three lemons sliced into quarters. They’ll float around on the top of the liquid.

Let this mixture sit uncovered for 6 or 7 days. It’ll fizz a lot and smell awful at first, but the smell will improve somewhat as the mixture ferments. Scum will form on the surface. Ignore it. Just let the whole thing sit and pop away.

After 6 or 7 days, strain the mixture again, repeatedly, until the mixture is thoroughly clear. It’ll have a golden tint.

Pour it into bottles, but don’t cork or screw the top on until the mixture stops working (i.e., fizzing up). As soon as the fizzing stops, cork or screw top the bottle and let it sit in a cool dark place for at least a month. Three or four months is best.

When you open it, do so over a sink. It may be very bubbly, like Champagne. Don’t worry if it’s not bubbly. Dandelion wine has this weird thing about making up its own mind about whether it will be bubbly or not from year-to-year. Drink with great caution.

Some facts about dandelions:

Dandelions are NOT weeds! They are wild vegetables.

According to the USDA, dandelions are more nutritious than broccoli and spinach.

In Pueblo, Colorado it is illegal to grow dandelions.

Dandelions are helpful medicinally: as a diuretic, to cut fats, to reduce gas, for kidney stones, cancer, diabetes, to cleanse the blood, for weight reduction, for vision, for your skin and acne, for bowel functions, to lower blood pressure and serum cholesterol, and for anemia.

Dandelions may be used in many recipes, for beverages, omelets, salads, juices, gelatins, quiche, soup, pasta dishes, breads, pizza, gravy, dips, spreads, pies, cookies, jelly’s, waffles, fritters, wind, pudding, and even ice cream!

All parts of the dandelion are useable. The leaves for greens, the blossoms for wines and jelly, and the roots for coffee.

Tuesday, May 22, 2007

Yes, so when do we launch our first geurilla readings?
I say we hit the mall.


Congrats everyone on a job EXTREMELY well done with the read-a-thon.

It's a f**kin coup we're commitin...

I am blessed to know and work with such talent, dedication, and get-up-and-give-it! Thanks for being so wicked...

Sunday, May 6, 2007

one day i came across a very cool poem ...

... it was written for folk artist barry colpitts by joe blades ... he liked it so much, he painted it on the side of his house and surrounded it with folk art and joe turned it into a postcard ....

Thursday, May 3, 2007

a love supreme (thanks to Coltrane)



that weird off-beat again.
catching me


as i





the slow, foxy grumble
easing out past the piano

to tweak

unsuspecting ear.


it is whispered (not sung) that

the logic of a
dull man's dance

is born of his decision to dance




has not felt

the dizzy whirl



has not




but ooooooooo the




that love supreme

shuck off
the tippity-tap
the bing-bang-boom
the hand hand fingersthumb

somehow, both gone and returned

Sunday, April 29, 2007

I have taken you
so far into me
that the you that stands before me
is no longer necessary.

Wednesday, April 11, 2007

Personals #1

Reader, 37 years old,
plenty of experience,
looking for a poem of
any age, any size,
the darker the better.

Sunday, April 8, 2007

shit ... i wrote a haiku (i think)

blacktop stretch away
words fall into my beer glass
another thought drowns

Wednesday, April 4, 2007

god... mother.

when's the last time you had one?
it's a dirty word.

graffiti words move
sprayed paints dancing in my eyes
raw city council

Monday, April 2, 2007

the i hate haikus haiku

this thing my 250 pound

don't fuck with me


Ah. The subtlety of subletting...
Bless you Stu.
Bless you Drew.
Bless your utl. too.

In Sober Meditation

Damn. Passed out again
in the second washroom stall
head between my knees.

the mystery of the one and the many

is a long word that makes for
a short haiku line

I challenge you to a haiku!

She felt murderous
Stark early morning screaming
The black tongues of crows.

John had an odd dream this weekend...


Perhaps we are
but pickles in a jar.

Old Skull Speaks


blind old flower
here like me

thinks for two
passing poetry as fresh
naked magic

Saturday, March 31, 2007

I Am Biff

Hi, I am Biff. I am so happy to be a part of the BlackTop MotorCycle Gang that I just shit my pants.

Gotta go change now. See you in a reading place soon.

Silence says it all.

pimp my muffler

we are these who speak out loud:

Andrew Titus
Jeannine Gallant
Biff Mitchell
Eric Hill
Matte Robinson
John Heinstein

listen for us in a town near you!