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blackangelism · 7 months ago

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Born to Die

hey, so, basically, i was writing this fanfiction called born to die based upon kurt cobain and an original character called nirvana lacey anhedönia and, well, i never finished it and i think i’ve lost the inspiration to. but, i still want it to see the light of day because i think it’s beautiful (sort of). so, here we are.

Gibson Girl.

1480 words.

July 6, 1981.

Aberdeen.

Washington.

[ You wanna… ]

Lovelace.

That’s what I’m fucking carving into my arm. With that oh-so-American size of the knife, the cut was deep and my handwriting as unhinged as it could be, probably and possibly worse than the cruel (upon me!) variety of forms it takes; like it was in my journal (I’ve always adored the copulation of the words probably and possibly as it tends so well to my seeming lack of sincerity and existential confusion), but worse, worse. Tingling all over I was in not an aroused, sexual way—but in the way it tingles when the high becomes scary, when the swirly faces start to scratch at you and when your belly feels scarily pregnant (everyone whom I know wants children; I wonder, am I sociopathic or a prophetess? Probably both, they’re primarily synonymous anyway). I knew so damnéd well I was addicted to this shit, the little, translucent, hallucinatory blotters (I prefer ’em trippy on both the outside and in, and pink; but I’m an addict! I’ll take whatever anyways) I get by shaking my ass to the guy whose name I do not wish to have my married brain clouded with. He still cut into my head like the knife that was working with all it’s effort and my inputs carving that v on my plump, ripe forearm. I was addicted as fuck; and I fucking loved it. At the very fucking least, I was pumping out poems like a heroine of the fifties. It’s what it was: the fifties had Sylvia Plath and the eighties had me. Downright iconic. The blood by now—I felt like a lamb, but I knew I was the dragon—was flooding my lap on which that forearm of mine was settled. I apologise if my writing, grammer, thoughts, anything else is fucked up in this or don’t make sense—I’m drugged up into Cloud Nineteen (ten blotters, two packs of Marlboro Reds over this evening).

I know I sound fucking insane and I probably am, and I treat myself to pain Virgin Mary couldn’t have dreamt off—but, I promise I’m not mean. Just a hard, excessive exterior and a tight, eager posterior in this dollhood of mine. Does that even make sense…? I don’t fucking know shit… “Ah, fuck…” I whispered with the most disappointing one I could muster when I fucked up the second l of Lovelace.

Lovelace, Lovelace… Great, I have to recall him.

The fucker who got me into this.

Norwegian trucker in India who was friends with my greaser pa, Norman Anhedönia, called Gibson Lovelace. The chap had forty years worth of oxygen wasted in his shallow breathing (he always breathed shallow, even when he came; I had noticed), a nine-incher monster of a dick, pedophilia, a drunkard wife and an obsession with me. I’d always been what Nabokovian terms would term nymphet, and I do say I’m split on it. I’m a shit daughter and a demon child, or am I? Maybe I’m just depressed and suicidal, or I’m fucking divine and the reincarnation of Eve meant to meet her Adam through a senseless act of violence upon myself (I didn’t know at the time, but I was fucking foreshadowing; go me.). Every girl needs a senseless act of violence properly upon herself but rarely upon the other to discover her one and only cult leader.

Anywho, Gibson led me into his truck away from my father who was too busy cleaning his shades listening to Elvis on the records: January of ’77, I was seven going to turn eight in the November of that year. He fucked me raw, smashed my head so hard into the steering wheel that I bled (I was questioning too much), kissed my cuts and made me promise I wouldn’t pick up a knife again but didn’t do shit about what I actually felt; he told me to stick my tongue out and placed this thin translucent sheet of pink from a little booklet he kept in his glovebox. And I decided that I loved it. I’m at fault, I’m at fault… Fuck Waheguru.

I’m finished. I squeezed my arm as hard as I could, the blood spraying over the marble floor (I had tucked the rug away; I can’t let Mumma see). My incisors with the utmost force to keep my vocal chords at bay dug into my chapped bottom lip and drew blood there too. It trickled down to my chin and came to nirvana at my lap resting amongst the other red molecules; it left a ferric taste on the tip of my tongue, slightly bitter and quite sweet. Bittersweet. Blood, blood, blood, blood, blood… Blood, everywhere. Gibson would’ve rubbed it all over my nipples and told me to lick it up like it was his sperm all over my asscheeks or, well, just cheeks. I did have quite big tits for an almost twelve-year-old, I must admit… I’ve always had more estrogen and my estrogen was also more sensitive: susceptible. Susceptible to manipulation, fuckery, religion, what not… Finally, I could fucking feel something except for the stimuli of my g-spot and the irritation in my nostrils that still blossomed when I chainsmoked indoors or that itching feeling in me when I go too much time without my LSD. I have this delusion that I only pump men good or pump out good stuff when I’m pumped on those little squares: He said that LSD would be good for me when I told him that I write; I’ve been pumpin’ poetry for my baby ever since. I hate children, and I sincerely wish that all babies die alongside their parents and the doctors and the nurses and the medical’s parents and me…

My disorders kicked in (Borderline Personality Disorder, majorly untreated) and I fucking panicked. After so much shit, I fucking panicked. Panicked. Jumping up almost to slam my head to the sink I was cutting up like ham under, I had to hold onto the sink to make myself stand actually. I slowly experienced my hand creep up to switch on the faucet (like Gibby did to the faucet in my eyes everytime he crossed my neurocircuitry) and my other arm (I’m right-handed) creep to wash the blood from Lovelace off. Thankfully, I had a few bottles of peroxide, a pack of Reds, a babydoll dress all set up, razor and men’s shaving cream, my skincare, makeup—all of that set up, and the shower prepped as well. Today, I was to die.

The same year as Gibson’s arrival to me, I spiralled and ended up flinging my curvy body down the roof of some pretentious hotel in Seattle. I didn’t die, unfortunately. Then, well, I was transferred to a crazy people place for four years until I got out in March of ’81 (this year!) equally, if not more, fucked up. I had glowed so much surrounded by my little hellspawns, my creatures... My paradise is dying in the arms of nobody. But, I couldn’t care when the blotters kicked in and helped my cerebrum in distorting so fucking shittily my face into some eldritch horror that passed the likes of werewolves mid-transformation and golems. I giggled manically at the twistings of my eyes into the hair and my ears into halo, my mouth stretched through the giggle was transmuted to the petrified image of a dog and a lady and what fucking not. Oh, I need my pen… Pen, pen, pen, pen,... pen!

The lad

I tried to write into the journal page I had kept open on the small settee of my bathroom that I had also made sure to drip some of my essence onto (not like that, pervs; the blood, I’m saying) but my mouth wouldn’t co-operate with my cerebellum or my cerebrum. The giggles just wouldn’t stop and they just got more and more distorted like guitars fitted into amps and amps and shredding. I fell back on the ground, it cushioned by my ass, and held my head in my arms, shaking my head as if to curate outside of my all the fogginess and to shake out of my trip. I wanted to write, write! Not whatever the fuck this was. My eyes were squeezed so hard, I was crying. And, I couldn’t fucking stop laughing like a shitshow.

“Oh, God, stop, stop, stop, just fucking stop…!” Hadn’t even realised I was sobbing but in that moment that epiphany hit me like a freight train (whatever the fuck a freight train is; I just picked up on the writing tool from whatever I read using this). My arm was still bleeding, smearing blood over my cheeks; my lip was still cut from my teeth, bleeding the smaller bits too; I was shaking like a fucking banyan leaf in the rainstorms of Wash.

• • •

Strangers.

5010 words.

July 6, 1981.

Aberdeen.

Washington.

[ Don’t talk to strangers, or you might fall in love ]

Even the isolation, deprave, and mesophilia of our fucked-up, Lacey, crazies hospital was better than this drenched, little town. What was better than any of those two fucking disasters, though, was my stance on the railway tracks. Sittin’ there like teke-teke, waitin’ for my gorgeous guts to be smashed over, destroyed, violated, clawed out by the grinders of the train. I’d never seen starry nights—the ladies at Lacey would never have enough testicles to let me watch a shooting star and hope that it crash into me, the fuckin’ meteorite. My years at Cawnpore already were quite less in number, and it eternally was too polluted for us to see something more than the dhruv star and a few other killers; I’d never seen starry nights. According to this astronomical magazine I picked up while the nurses took us out to the local stores of Lacey for us teenage girls to detoxify our battlefields for minds, today was a meteor shower and I was thoroughly intrigued by blazing space rocks in the skies, so I bluffed and fucked my way out of the hospital. My egg and sperm donors did not believe for a major nanosecond that I was cured. At two years of pained age, I was standing in the middle of the gray-like-me roads, conscious of the act; at four, I burnt my pierced earlobe on purpose, using the steam-fuelled iron to; at six, any blade I pranced upon would find it’s metallic way to scent the room in the aroma of my equally metally blood, I only wished for one to kiss those marks and draw about them, to be what the lyre was to Apollo; at eight, this curvy brain of mine finally snapped into her hemispheres and told me to fling my curvy body down the highest story of our hotel. At eight, my suppliers abandoned their Catholic mistake of a dolly into a mental hospital in my Americana birthplace, Lacey.

There, I morphed myself like the blesséd Phoenix, curse, profanity I am into The Mother. Mother Lace, Mother Nirvana, Messiah of thee, and the literary combo of Three. One of the only times I shall ever cherish are my years with those six girls… My girls: my loves, only ones who would ever succeed in enveloping me with so much heat that the outward exterior, the exoskeleton of middle fingers and catty hisses, melts into a puddle of rot beneath me and the inner delicacy of my wretched fragility and mortality is on display for all those mental fuckers to eat.

Needless to say…, I missed my bundle of little women, my packets of compressed, oppressed joy. So, I lay there longing with my arms stretched onward craving hiraeth in the Heavens—now that I look back, it never was hiraeth. I knew exactly what my home was: the browned mental hospital where I spent four formative years of my Jim Morrison's life in. I longed for the hug of my collected daughters, their soft digits brushing my hair as they softly inquired escape from the hellhole I promised to save them from. My girls... I loved them, like the mother they never received. I had promised, I had promised… I was a betrayer. What mother to those girls…

On instinct I experienced my hands reach to the crown of my head, relief coursing through my blood the moment a thorn stung me. Their entity had crafted for me a crown of thorns to relish me as their Lady and Saviour. I did feel blood seep from the pinch, but I stuck my finger between my lips and thrashed my tongue around, gazing at the dying glows of the starry night.

I pretended to be Jesus.

I am Judas, or am I?

I don’t even know what I’m writing. You’re hallucinating while interpreting strange symbols written left-to-right in lead and antimony compounds upon thin, delicate tablet-like structures made of tree sap, so I guess we two are never too far apart in our crazy.

Well, to them (my girls: Laine Jean Ray, Bonita Ana Dios, Aurora May-Belle Long, Theresa Midge Check, Verbena de Baïa Voisin, Margaret Sarah Check), I still remain Yeshua. Yet, I feel a wolf in lamb’s skin as myself; a panther in the throes of the night sky that I stare emptily, tearily, upon. I fake it so real, I am beyond fake (translation: you people are fucking dumb).

In my convulsing tubule of thoughts birthed by my cerebral quality, I failed in my life to notice movement, possibly a metre from me. I was laid over the railway track like a corpse, eyes empty yet body warm for no reason at all. It truly seems bizarre how the movement noticed me neither—maybe dissolved so much in the grief were they that they were as heady as me, as crazy as I! Trapped inside the fever dream of their own thoughts, vowed to never spit it out, bit tongues and summertimes spent in clawing bedsheets and clamping hands over the own lips so as to refrain from the awareness that might spread. That might say…: I am iron. I am usable, extremely so. Exploit me, as if you have not already. Though, I might have not warneth thou… I rot as vigorously as I am used, keep me out in the world and I will break down and become ash of myself. In the velvet night, a puff of air as a sigh crawled out of me, liquid dripping down the corneas of I, ruining not the night (this was to be, I planned to die today for fuck’s sake) but my precious mascara and eyeliner. Oh, how I worked on that lining to accentuate my inherited, unwanted, auto-appreciated felinity. I’d be the prettiest girl in the morgue.

Someday you will ache like I ache.

Anyhow, the shower from the atmosphere had concluded a few minutes prior. And, well, finally, the train I was waiting for to scramble and crumble my guts into nothing but wasted potential, like I already was, had arrived… Only, it arrived wrong. It ran over the steel beside me, beside us (counting in the movement I am). A severe monsoon bummer filled my chest, the void in my heart had been concealed tightly and packed with Lyssa, Eris, what not. I craved to screech at the tyrant Father for his sin, for his fucking disruptive mercy on me—I did not want mercy! I needed death to fuck me like his personal, unpaid, loyal servant-girl; I needed it violent! So, as soon as all registered in my voluminous cerebrum, I recoiled in my pose, resorting to the protection of a foetal position as I screamed out my sobs and muffled them by staining my shaved thighs with my lipstick and drool smelling of minty chew-gum that I chewed last minute, tears of brown-black from my mascara and liner, hitting my head against my knees and punching the bloody rails that I was once moonbathing over until I experienced my knuckles burn and bruise, actual slivers of blood peek through the skin. I continued then too, but was too passionate in my quiet wailing to keep up the aggression.

And, thence, I swiped my tears with my bleeding knuckles, unrealising in my little girl’s misery of the fact, and smeared blood over my eyes and mascara over my blood. By some distance, I could hear some twigs crunching, maybe it was the movement I hadn’t noticed beforehand. When I did notice in that current moment, fear struck my gut like Cupid’s arrow when I had seen Priscilla Presley for the first time in forever. Naturally, a response occurred within the fatty mass of electric muscle in my head and I recoiled within myself, burying my face in my knees that I had pulled to my tits, only my eyes blinking up like a defensing cat—if I had been a cat, my pupils would have shrunken to that reptilian, creepy glare. I saw that the thing was lighting a cigarette, my cravings relit alongside (the appearance of the thing was half-revealed in the dim spark).

Stupidly as I ever could be, I murmured from my coil, “Do you have a light?” However softly I did speak, the boy did hear because it was the death of the night in wherever we were, the railroad was as quiet as could be with the crickets around chirping and inaudible bats may or may not be sauntering about. Dim moonlight that I somedays worshipped (as a witch, I did) proved herself, and I saw him. The first predicament was that he’s cute: blond, ice eyes, hopeless swagger, shaky legs. He paused himself in his trek, and slowly but mildly clumsily, turned to see my form. Perhaps cold moonlight proved her importance to hallucinatory pages of dead sap’s inkéd words of feel-good love. Wow, fuck, I went overboard on there. So, he scrutinised me for a moment, squinting to gaze at me carefully.

I’ll never forget what came out of my future husband’s mouth the first time he spoke a single thing to me…: You look very pretty when you’re crying; tears suit you. I don’t think that I can emphasise the moan that was nearly to escape me at that very moment, it was a shockwave of whatever down my spine to my ladyness. My knees dropped to become flat, just legs, and I did acknowledge the gashes in my doll heart bleeding so vigorously, it matched my swallowed drool.

“You don’t mean that, you’re drunk.”

His honeyed voice, sort of scratchy as I observed he was pubescent and hormonal in his blue jeans, white striped shirt—walked into the room, you know you made my eyes burn!—and black-y jacket he kept open, pushed me to experience the yayo-type, giggly joy of his chuckle, he shook his head in amuséd denial of his drunkenness. He was poetic, he had a slur, he had his thin lips wrapped around a cigarette—shit, I needed them wrapped around mine… And, I loved it. Why the fuck was I enamoured? “You’re a hypocrite,” He paused for a moment, maintaining that smile. Two distinct holes, punctures in muscle, were noticed by thee truly, myself, at that very moment; I felt my ribcaged heart palpitate. “You’re bawling your eyes out here like Virgin Mary.”

“Oh, fuck me, that’s beautiful.” The moan that was slowly and gradually, steadily and irresistibly, mountaineering up my throat finally escaped in the form of this: *Oh, fuck me, that’s beautiful*. Which, I did mean—how could I not mean *this*? I’m not Lisa Rowe, you buzz (although I wish to be—have you not read the sheer charisma produced from the description Kaysen emits of her? She was definitely the prettiest girl in the morgue!).

Hands of his extended to mine, both, and I took them, shakingly wobbling from my psych-out. I felt drunk. As terror-inducin’ it seems, drugs had exhilarated me, no cock of a man who had money this nymphet had onlooked had been left out, I was such a La Lolita for my crazy desires—but I had never had a swig before. Smelling the booze off my falling, twisted guy as he pulled me up from my literal and mental death—I only knew that my heart was hitting at my sinews, she felt a depraved wanderlust. Some wanderlust it was to, like a man in a Prime Minister pose, mark that free, angel Earth mine with maybe a flag (a tattoo) or a hole (a lovebite), something, somewhat. I held onto his shoulders for both metaphorical and literal support, he held onto the curve of the lower back I possessed, though the fabric of his jackie didn’t benefit friction and he kept slipping his arm off accidentally because, one, he adorned too much weight on; two, the fabircs intermingled like our forms, the cheap satin and whatever the fuck his jacket was made of. “Why am I a hypocrite, though?” I finally asked this little blond dude what had been pestering me (I am not to blame for this worthy-of-disdain obsessiveness, I have Borderline Personality Disorder. I am Cool Girl: I am nothing in my soul if not obsessive) for how millennium long. His ocean eyes matched mine for a moment, and he seemed to think through for a momento before he permitted the giggle of a hyena break out of him: Because you’re pretty when you cry, and I’m not.

“Yes, you are.” No hesitation was laced through me, none of that unaware uncertainty that I usually experienced leaking through my tune when I comforted one of my girls—my girls...—and instead was there an ignorant stubbornness. I was always stubborn, but what the fuck? I, having registered in my still plush cerebrum that my crown of thorns (gifted to me by Laine specifically, although all the girls worked on it) had fallen like my Lucifer when I had risen, thence I bent to grab my status, injuring my already injured hand thus further as the thorns pierced and pricked into my skin. And, I didn’t even cry…

He recoiled almost physically at my olden compliment (remember the first dialogue of the previous paragraphed rambling?) and I was due a breakdown of my psyche in that very singular fraction of a minute when my man suddenly perked up, “I only have this cig,”, changing the subject. Yahweh, my knuckles burnt. I ohed a tiny bit, and chuckled, extending one of my quivering, weak limbs and bending to wrap my lipstickéd lips on the ass of that cigarette, same one he took a drag from not fifteen seconds ago. His Atlantic eyes widened for a twiddling momentous, and, possibly and probably in drunken stupor and marijuana heights of his death wish, he giggled—I physically felt my pupils dilate, what the fuck? Maybe it was the nicotine, maybe it was the aftershocks of my tiny-teeny mental breakdown on the rail, maybe it was hisself… Damn, I think I understood Grant so well in that miniscule moment: Heaven is a place on Earth with you.

The world was built for two.

Delusional, I was convinced that it was us two the moment he grabbed the cigarette from me for his chance, and he examined the matte, messy mark of my lip stamped on it.

With the dumbest smile he could muster in my damnéd opinion, this little, blond, territorial, underdeveloped man adjusted his lips on the exact place I had left my shine, suckling it like it was some part of me. He knew what he was doing, I could pluck it from the glitter in his pretty orbs that told me shit he’d never be able to spit out in our tragic, magic relationship of some thirteen years. We kissed in death like we kissed in that moment, he blew smoke into my mouth and I giggled, almost extracting the alcohol of his from the roof of his mouth as my tongue felt her way around. We parted for perhaps, well, a second (I don’t remember the details, I’m writing this after our wedding sex, 1988. We’re in our flight back to Olympia from Honolulu, and he’s sleeping on my tits), and rejoint as I adjusted the angle to kiss-fuck this virginal Cherub better. “Darling, is this your first?”, he nodded, responsive—to be frank, that was adorable...! I’m pretty sure I squeaked out of sheer kiddy excitement, squeezing the sides of his face (cheeks). My grip migrated to around his neck, form bent for he was teenier than I. I didn’t even know his name and we were kissing in the blue dark…

Parting, I only gazed into his oceanic gaze and breathlessly giggled, “Oh, wow, fuck,... That was…, yeah.” A grand total of seven partners (three females, four males) I had engaged in before this merman, and I had never felt myself stolen of breathe ever in my existence after a mere kiss. Possibly was it the intoxication, the nicotine fucking over my senses so that my taste buds tickled with the enriching experience of his glazed cavern, but was it not thrilling, oh Mary! I had enchanted outward the sweetest giggle, and he in his still stupor snuggled his head inside the curve of my shoulder and chest; he was only that much tall. I was not lanky in any aspect, neither I am still—on the flipside, truth is that my mother repeatedly insisted upon me to not drown in my head and force her to onlook, rather to go outside, soak some tan (I am racially brown, thence I don’t require a tan) and run some. I decline profusely, tangling in blankets again and writing what, if discovered, would have positively filed me into the South Sound Behavioral Hospital yet again for a term not of four years now but of God-knows-how-long.

Eventually, I figured: some other day, this nymph may or may not have only prolonged my life now, and I told myself it. By the railway roads were grasses uncared for (like most daughters were; the human was their mother and the stain’d, tall grasses were the lost), we decided unconsciously to sit by those and talk the dimlight of the night off the clouds, to dawn we conversed. As unbelievable as it may sound considering the turbulence not even Athena might have dreamt of that had plagued the twisty courses of my lifetime, I had not sipped upon the liver eater yet: alcohol! With my newfound darling, that was precisely what I did.

We were dwelling inside uncanny synchronisation with our acts: we looked around at the same time, fixated on the same piece of cement, reached to gasp one another’s hands the same moment. I didn’t flinch, neither did the blond darling. Which..., was quite, well, it was especially choking as I... Usually froze at contact of the physique from someone whom I loved. Around this time, with my drink-induced lover, it felt good.

We curled up by grass, against a gray boulder-like structure, perhaps a part of a rotten or demolished building of some sort, debris. There, I suckled upon the lengthy cancerstick and inquired like an owl: “Why were you here, anyway?” In a casual tone I did, as if it was something so normal that I was nonchalant. “Oh, y’know, to kill myself.” The answer delivered by this sweetness would dwelling in me a day or so afterward (take that very literally) was just as nonchalant, confirming the suspicion conjured by my despaired subconscious that he was just as heady as me, as crazy as me, someone who would rot along me like iron all the while fearing the rot, hiding from something murmuring within thyself and teetering about; aura as a nymphic call and melancholia as the default ring of the mood. GOD is a teenaged girl of grunge and glitter, and I am a doll (soulless, empty, pretty with no matter on the inside yet pretty from the back—it matched!).

“No, no, like, why?” I repeated with an accentuated tone and my regular gestures of hand and eye, “The reason you wanted to kill yourself. I don’t judge, promise.” I shrugged, chuckling a bit as I passed the miniature cancer to him for a drag. “Clearly.” He chuckled too, widening his eyes momentarily to allude to my appearance; as I remember it, that elicited out from me a little giggle. I mean, it was the factual; darling, not lying. A girl; a girl dressed in a pearly babydoll dress with lacy tights (opaque white-like, frilled, a bow on top of each, knee-high) and no footwear with mascara smeared down her face from a clear breakdown of her battlefield for mind, manic brown eyes with a grape-coloured lipstick on pouty heart-shaped lips, blood and dirt also staining her optic area due to her bleeding knuckles from which she punched the steel of the rails because the train did not run over her? Paired alongside the fresh wounds on display littered across that fatty arm of hers? Oh, she was a crazy chick—and I could tell that this little guy loved it. He loved my mania, he loved my blood, he loved my crazy, he loved everything that I loved about myself. Maybe it was his alcohol that urged him this way, but I loved him for he loved what he saw.

But is she pretty on the inside?

“Well,” I spaced back in with the thrill of his voice curling the air around us; I wish we were plunged into steel. Sound travels best in something like steel… What would his voice be in steel? The thought messaged down my spine a shiver. “’s mostly everything about my life. Wouldn’t say I’m addicted, but all I do these days is mope and get high, or drink. I’ve been this since last month. Last year, I saw this… This dead boy who hung himself in the woods. That really affected me, I think; I’ve got suicide genes.” He paused a bit, sighing as he was passed the smokestick again. I puckered up a bit and drew closer to his pretty face, rounding my lips out and pushing out a ring of cigarette smoke. On impulse, he stuck nose through the centre of the dissipating smoke ring which drew from me another giggle—he was just like me! I did that too! I’d never thought someone else would…? What the fuck is going on?

Taking a drag, he then resuméd: “My parents are divorced… I’m really embarrassed of that.” He added a bit hesitantly, I could gauge that he still felt the shame of it all; which perplexed me. A divorce is shameful? How so? It’s a fucking life decision… But, that’s okay because this little one was clearly less mature and emotionally developed than I, although that amount still was remarkable considering his physique and my presumé of his age (which I thought to be elder to me, but still not too much so). “Why?”

“I want my real family back. My dad promised me he wouldn’t remarry, and he fucking did; to a bitch nonetheless. I hate her and her children are so… Phoney…!” Humming at his hurt words, I was analysing him: eyes gliding over the pasty, smooth contours of his vanilla face; staring into the trench of his pupils surrounded by his ocean eyes as he passed back the almost dead cigarette to me. The guard he wore over his exterior again was forming as he read that I was reading him without contempt (he thought I was feeling that, but I was simply analysing him emotionlessly—as if he was a labrat and I was dissecting him to figure out the following: what the fuck is this little shit?). But, I got him before he leaned away or apologised: Don’t worry, go on. Say it. I hate my cousins too. He relaxed yet again, I could see his shoulders come down and he leaned into me again,. Our heads were almost leaning against each other’s, breathes intermixing with each intake and out. “Go on.” I repeated, tapping his knee to accentuate my point.

He snapped out of whatever daze (he was reading me too, perhaps; mentally dissecting my Barbie body too, perhaps) and his hand came to clasp mine. I bit back a giggle and a smile at the contact, he did notice the corner of my lips tilt upward so he took that as a positive for further lacing of his fingers with mine. I, now a bit assured in myself, squeezed his hand and nudged him again: go on.

“Right,” He chuckled, “So, well, I just feel… Alien. You know, when I was little, I used to look at the stars,” He pointed briefly to the stars that were shining above the both of us, “And imagine my real family because I just felt like I wasn’t from here, like I was from another planet. I think I like that feeling, I was homesick for a place that didn’t even exist. And, to be honest, you’re the only other alien I’ve met.” That made me giggle after I muttered hiraeth at the sentence spoken second to the last. I found in my nicotined mindscape that this… Theory, was almost verbatim of a theory I myself had gardened in my meadow for mind. “Y’know…! I felt like that too, still do actually. I just used different terms for it. I called whatever the fuck our species are Earth Angels, angels on Earth. I read somewhere once that a person with scars of cuts on their arms was called an angel by a kid, and I think I really internalised… That.”

He chuckled, “Your mind is divine, Pretty. Yeah, I think my family is also a reason in why… I want to kill myself, y’know?”

“Oh, absolutely. I love them so much so I do what they want and they hate me for every speck of originality; I don’t know if it’s my mental disorders or it’s my hormones, but every small inconvenience makes me wanna kill myself. I’m also a hater! I hate everything and I do nothing to change it which, admittedly, makes me an arsehole—but, fuck it.” We both had laughter crawling up our throats and I could tell it wasn’t actual laughter. Oh, no. It was mania, laughing not because it threatened to spill; laughing because you had nothing else to do. Like crazy people (I do think that I am insane, in some way, shape or form. But, I also think that I’m supersane. Who fucking knows? I think a lot, don’t I?).

The cigarette had gone out by now, I think I had stubbed it out by pressing to the moist ground after he had truly started opening the shells of himself, not wishing to be distracted by drugs when I had the most addictive and healthy sedative offering his lifestory to a little shit like me. “Well, what’s it for you? I haven’t ever seen… You around…” He slurred out as we jumped down from our maniacal, little, episodic bursts of sacrilege or insanity… Well, are they not synonyms?

“Ah, so, I just moved here about a… Maybe a few days ago? I think a week or so. I moved from Lacey, though I’m actually Indian. Well… It’s a fucked-up fairytale, really. My whole ancestry and family is the following: sexist, racist, extremist to Sikhism, religious, doomed, homophobic, transphobic, Islamophobic, very, very Indian. It’s only my grandmother who acknowledges the sexism floating between our family; she dreamt high and was ambition incarnate but her marriage to this horrible fucking man led her to be so oppressed she couldn't speak a word of English without being thoroughly taunted for it.” His face clearly contorted into a gnarly grimace, and I felt my nose start to itch and burn again remembering all this up… Never had I ever trauma-puked this well or been so comfortable vomiting it out to someone I did not know.

“’s just… Fuckin’ Hell. I can’t translate it into words, I can only feel.” Shaking my head in a paternal sort of disappointment (no matter how much I despise the fact, I am my father’s daughter; his copy of carbon) at my inability, I felt myself pulled in again… How? How was he doing this shit? Being so fucking kind? It made me anxious, admittedly. Why was he so kind? What did the fucker want?

I’m being too cynical. I wanted to cry; instead I accepted his tentative comfort and shoved my face into the nook of his neck, breathing down it like a vampire in the night. I had the purely feminine, feline urge to wrap myself around him like Sarin and never let go to slowly dissolve into him even if maggots eat us out. Why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why…? For a few minutes I think, we stayed in that exact position, in a sort of silence that neutered my turmoil. His arms were gel onto my wounds, and I, terrified, readily crept in like the Dutch beetle on the elm.

“Don’t.” I eventually muttered out into the tender, pale, untouched flesh of temptation on his neck; I don’t know why I did it, don’t decipher or discover the root at all. What is a girl to do when offered love on a silver spoon when she only possesses a forked tongue of venom caused from licking slivers of love off a parental knife? I was a black, not racially but spiritually. I was corrupt, disgust, free-use trash for swollen cocks with zero semblance of any soul and only a pretty body. It’s my pretty power which is my ugly. I am disgusting… I sometimes feel the scorching need to cleanse myself, to face redemption, to hurry to salvation; and other days I revel in the hellfire of lust that would surround me once I am liberated of this uséd body.

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scott1984fp2 · 12 days ago

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snpcmachine · 11 months ago

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Produce bricks anywhere and anytime

SnPC Machines: Factory of brick on wheel

Fully automatic mobile brick making machine by SnPC Machines, First of its kind of machine in the world, our brick-making machine moves on wheels like a vehicle and produces bricks while the vehicle is on move. This allows kiln owners to produce bricks anywhere and anytime, as per their requirements. Fully automatic Mobile brick-making machine can produce up to 12000 bricks/hour with a reduction of up to 45% in production cost in comparison with manual and other machinery as well as 4-times (as per testing agencies report) more in compressive strength with standard shape, sizes and another extraordinary provision exist i.e. (that is) machine produced several brick sizes and it can be changed as per customer requirements from time to time. SnPC machines India is selling 04 models of fully automatic brick making machines: BMM160 brick making machine,BMM310, BMM400, and BMM410, (semi-automatic and fully automatic ) to the worldwide brick industry which produce bricks according to their capacities and fuel requirements. Raw material required for these machines is mainly clay, mud, soil or mixture of both. These moving automatic trucks are durable and easy to handle while operating. These machines are eco-friendly and budget-friendly as only one-third of water as compared to other methods is required and minimum labour is enough for these machines. We are offering direct customers access to multiple sites in both domestic and international stages, so they can see the demo and then will order us after satisfaction.

#snpcmachines #factory of brick on wheel #brick manufacturer #brick making machine India #brick making machine Haryana #brick making machine Delhi #mobile brick production #fast brick production #SnPC Machines #SnPC Factory #Team SnPC<

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rmnerectors · 1 year ago

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Lifting Machine Rental in Nashik

RMN Erectors is a marketplace chief within the discipline of Lifting Machine Rental in Nashik, India serving experts who work at heights in any kind of industry. We provide a huge variety of which includes, scissor lifts, Truck Mounted, Man Lift, Diesel Forklift. RMN Erectors make it hard for our clients, providing for Rental Lifting Machine, to work quickly and at any height. It's far from the main employer that surfaces in this context on a normal basis.

RMN Erectors company lives as long as the expectancy and offers its clients with a well-timed and effective lifter machine for rent service. All of our lift rentals equipment allows you to tackle anything the process throws at you with flexibility and confidence. The RMN Erectors Lifting Machine Rental in Nashik for having access to an effective and dependable system on demand, you benefit from the determination and technical capabilities of your nearby.

Rental Lifting Machine In Nashik

A rental lifting machine refers to a piece of equipment used for lifting heavy objects or materials to various heights. There are several types of lifting machines available for rent, depending on the specific requirements of the task at hand. Here are some common examples:

Forklift: Forklifts are versatile machines used for lifting and moving materials in warehouses, construction sites, and industrial settings. They have two forks at the front that can be raised and lowered to lift pallets or other heavy objects.

Boom Lift: Boom lifts, also known as cherry pickers, are used for elevated work tasks. They consist of a platform or bucket attached to a hydraulic arm (or boom), allowing workers to access elevated areas such as building exteriors, trees, or utility poles.

Scissor Lift: Scissor lifts are another type of aerial work platform that can be rented. They have a platform that moves vertically using a crisscrossing mechanism, which resembles a pair of scissors. Scissor lifts are commonly used for maintenance, construction, and installation tasks.

Crane: Cranes are large machines equipped with a hoist, wire ropes or chains, and sheaves. They are used for heavy lifting in construction sites, shipping yards, and other industrial settings. Cranes come in various types, including tower cranes, mobile cranes, and overhead cranes.

Telehandler: A telehandler, or telescopic handler, combines the features of a forklift and a crane. It has a telescoping boom that can extend forward and upward, allowing it to lift and place loads with precision. Telehandlers are commonly used in construction and agriculture.

When renting a lifting machine, it's important to consider factors such as the required lifting capacity, reach, terrain conditions, and any specific attachments or accessories needed for the job. Rental companies typically offer different sizes and models of lifting machines to accommodate various project requirements.

Lifting Machine Hire In Nashik

Lifting machine hire refers to the service provided by equipment rental companies, where they offer various types of lifting machines or equipment for temporary use. Instead of purchasing a lifting machine outright, individuals or businesses can rent the equipment for a specific period of time to meet their lifting needs. Lifting machine hire is a cost-effective and convenient solution for those who require lifting equipment for short-term projects or occasional use.

The types of lifting machines available for hire can vary depending on the rental company and the specific requirements of the customer. Common examples of lifting machines that can be hired include forklifts, cranes, boom lifts, scissor lifts, telehandlers, and hoists.

When renting a lifting machine, customers typically have the flexibility to choose the specific model and size of the machine based on their lifting capacity and reach requirements. Rental periods can range from a few hours to several weeks or months, depending on the duration of the project.

Lifting machine hire services usually include delivery and pickup of the equipment to the customer's location. Some rental companies may also offer additional services such as equipment setup, maintenance, and operator training if required.

The rental rates for lifting machines are typically based on factors such as the type of equipment, rental duration, and any additional services requested. Rental companies may charge an hourly, daily, weekly, or monthly rate, depending on the terms of the rental agreement.

Overall, lifting machine hire provides a flexible and cost-effective solution for obtaining the necessary equipment to safely and efficiently perform lifting tasks without the need for long-term ownership.

Looking for an Lifting Machine Rental in Nashik? Then RMN Erectors is the best choice for you contact us at +91-9423969656 and visit our website

#Lifting Machine Rental in NashikRental Lifting Machine In Nashik #Lifter Machine For Rent In Nashik #Lifting Machine Hire In Nashik #Lifting Machine Rental In Nashik

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iamazadkhan · 2 years ago

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India's Water Scarcity Expected To Get More Severe By 2050: UN Report

Pic Source: https://www.circleofblue.org/2019/india/groundwater-plummets-in-delhi-city-of-29-million/

To Start the Discussion

The nation that pumps the most groundwater has come to terms with its food and water security, which threatens to undermine political and economic stability as well as long-term public health. Circle of Blue uncovers how a nation of 1.3 billion people is inviting disease, economic suffering, and social instability by neglecting to safeguard its water in this special report, which builds on years of on-the-ground reporting. This post is included with the assumption on India's Water Scarcity Expected to Get More Severe By 2050. Have a look on the discussion for detailed information. A food supply "toxic time bomb" with global repercussions goes hand in hand with the depletion and poisoning of groundwater. Farmers use untreated wastewater that is mixed with sewage and industrial chemicals when irrigation wells run dry. The water changed from sustaining life to claiming it, as one villager put it.

A Wide Range of Issues

Delhi is making an effort to meet the demands of tens of millions of people by building new infrastructure on top of water systems that were created centuries ago, like other worldwide megacities, some of which are the size of small nations. Historically, the city relied on a network of check dams, step wells, and natural drains for its water supply. In this arrangement, rainwater was collected during the monsoon season and used all year round. Its historic network was neglected as a result of the metro area's recent decades of rapid growth, which has seen its population surpass 29 million, according to the UN. The majority of the city's natural drainage systems have been covered over or blocked by rubbish. Either lakes or other bodies of water have dried up, or they are now clogged with trash and other pollution. According to Upmanu Lall, a professor at Columbia University and the head of the Columbia Water Center, "Sewers, where they exist, release untreated or inadequately treated water," he told Circle of Blue. According to Lall, seasonal floods also disperses toxins throughout the city's water supply. "There are many places that flood when there are no sewage systems, mobilizing everything on the ground." Delhi's surface water is in poor condition as well. The Yamuna River, a tributary of the Ganges, is used by locals for drinking, bathing, and washing. However, the river is a poisonous brew of industrial chemicals, agricultural runoff, and sewage. According to a recent study, 1,500 unlicensed slums' worth of sewage and feces are dumped right into the Yamuna. The government-owned Delhi Jal Board is in charge of managing the city's water distribution system. Eighty-one percent of Delhi households have some access to piped water, though the supply—which comes from the Yamuna River and the ground—isn't always dependable or clean. The water that enters the pipes frequently leaks out. Water loss in the city might reach 40% as a result of theft and leakage. Approximately 625,000 households do not have any connection to the city pipelines, according to the 2011 Census. These homes are mostly found in slums or unofficial settlements.

Closing the Discourse

Borewells or tanker trucks are used by millions of residents who are not adequately supplied by the city's water distribution system or are excluded from it. Illegal borewells are commonplace across the city, with some of them extending more than 120 meters. According to a report from March 2018, 15 of Delhi's 27 administrative divisions "overexploit" groundwater. There are additional variables at play in Delhi's impending groundwater issue besides illegal groundwater extraction. According to Lall, the Delhi metropolitan region includes its own capital territory and is bordered by the states of Uttar Pradesh and Haryana, both of which regularly pump considerable amounts of groundwater for domestic use. The region's water users as a whole are taking groundwater more quickly than it is naturally replenishing. Read the full article

#indianmemoir #nation

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vintageviewmaster · 2 years ago

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Brand: View-Master Packet Title: Florida Booklet Title: View-Master Presents Florida Booklet Subtitle: The Peninsula State Date: 1955

Note: When reading the booklet descriptions, please remember that these booklets are old (most are 65+ years old) and the information and history presented in them as factual may be inaccurate, outdated, and in some cases, offensive.

Booklet Introduction Description: Ponce de Leon really missed a bet. He landed near St. Augustine one April in 1513 in search of the legendary Fountain of Youth, then sailed away! During the 1940-1950 decade, 600,000 people from other states moved to Florida convinced that they had found what Ponce de Leon had overlooked. Their fountain of youth consists of basking in the Florida sun acquiring that native tan, sailing and fishing in the warm waters that lap the nation's longest coastline, and sleeping under subtropical stars in a night cooled by the trade winds.

Florida Facts and Figures When Ponce de Leon landed on the Florida coast it was Easter Sunday which in Spanish is Pascua florida, hence "Florida". The State Flower is the Orange Blossom; the State Bird is the Mocking-bird; the Tree is the Cabbage or Sabal Palm; the Song is "The Swanee River" by Stephen Foster; and the Motto is the same as that found on all U. S. coins, "In God We Trust." Almost twice as many vacationers and winter guests visit the state of Florida as live there. The income from the 5 million tourists, $930 million is the state's largest single source of income. A combination of all year sunshine and plentiful rainfall has resulted in Florida's world leadership in oranges. Over half the nation's and a quarter of the world's supply of oranges are grown in the state. Most of the nation's winter vegetables come from Florida truck gardens, and in south Florida tropical fruits are grown - avocado, mango, guava, papaya, litchi fruit, and coconuts. Hotel-keeping must be the state's leading industry, but it also leads the nation in cigar making, sponge harvesting and phosphate mining. The largest cigar factory in the world is in Jacksonville. Every spring, baseball comes to Florida. Twelve of the sixteen major league teams plus 77 minor league teams hold spring training here.

The State and Its People Florida has an area of 58,560 square miles and is 21st in size among the states. It has the longest coastline, 2,077 miles. It is bounded by the Atlantic Ocean on the east, the Florida Straits on the south separates it from Cuba; the Gulf of Mexico washes its western shores; and Alabama and Georgia lie north. Only Delaware and Louisiana lie lower than Florida whose average elevation is 100 feet. The highest point in the state is 325 feet at Iron Mountain upon which is built the famous Bok Singing Tower. The southern tip of the state is Everglade country where the land is so low that it appears as small hummocks or patches of grass growing out of swampy water. Everglades National Park is located here. The 1950 population of Florida was 2,711,305, ranking twentieth among the states. It is the fastest growing state east of the Rockies having increased its popular 46.1% from 1940 to 1950. Famous Floridians include: Osceola, the great Seminole Indian war chief who was never defeated but finally tricked into imprisonment; John Gorrie, of Apalachicola, inventor of mechanical refrigeration; Marjorie Kinnar Rawlings, whose Pulitzer prize novel, The Yearling” dealt with the Florida backwoods; and Joseph W. "Vinegar Joe" Stilwell, commander of the China-Burma-India Theater of War.

Highlights of History After discovering Florida, Ponce de Leon landed two shiploads of colonists at Charlotte Harbor in 1521, but constant clashes with the Indians resulted in his death and the abandonment of the colony. Tales of fabulous cities of gold (which were not to spring up until the 20th century) lured other Spanish explorers. Hernando de Soto landed in the Tampa area in 1539 to begin a four year march. Don Pedro Menendez de Aviles, Captain General of the Spanish treasure fleets, came to Florida in 1565 to found St. Augustine and a line of posts from Tampa Bay to Port Royal, South Carolina. After the British captured Havana, Cuba, in 1763, Spain agreed to trade Florida for the Cuban capital. But after the American Revolution, the British were squeezed in by the new United States and Spanish strongholds to the south. They ceded Florida to Spain from whom the United States bought it in 1819 for $5 million. With the creation of the Florida Territory in 1822 came Indian trouble. The Seven-Year Seminole Wars ending in 1842 cost the lives of 1,500 American soldiers but brought eventual peace paving the way for statehood which was granted on March 3, 1845.

#fla #florida #view-master #viewmaster #antiques #S3 packet

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careindiapackers · 2 years ago

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Are You looking for a transport company in Chandigarh? If yes, then you are at the right place Hire Care India, the best packers and movers in Chandigarh, that can help you shift and move to Chandigarh or nearby cities. We offer a range of truck sizes for you to choose from depending on your specific needs. whatever your requirement, We provide all types of truck sizes choose one that meets your requirements. For more info in detail on Truck Sizes In India please visit our official website

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cetpainfotech2 · 2 years ago

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How many sizes of Range Rover Tyre are available online?

RANGE ROVER India produces an expanded range of car tyre with modern technology. This brand specialises in performance tyre, off-road tyre, and SUV Tyres. Range Rover is the most popular and trustable tyre brand in the market. The brand has a complete product structure of tyre for passenger cars, light trucks, and buses, high-performance tyre for motorsports applications, and even construction applications. There are 7239 tyre dealers in India and they are present across 990 cities in India. our shops are available in Noida and Delhi NCR cities also. and many sizes of Rang Rover tyre is available online. You can further search for dealers in your city by using the drop-down below. If you think about which tyre is best in India then we can say Range Rover is the best tyre in India. And this is my personal experience.

#RANGE ROVER CAR #RANGE ROVER TYRE

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streetfinancenews · 1 day ago

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Zinka Logistics IPO GMP: An Overview of the Upcoming Public Offering

Zinka Logistics Solutions Ltd., a key player in the logistics and supply chain sector, is preparing for its initial public offering (IPO), capturing significant investor attention. As with any IPO, one of the primary points of focus for investors is the Grey Market Premium (GMP), which serves as an informal indicator of how the stock might perform once it hits the public market. Understanding Zinka Logistics' IPO GMP is essential for potential investors looking to gauge market sentiment and predict the company’s post-listing performance. Learn about transforming India’s trucking with digital tools and services with investments in Zinka Logistics IPO GMP Today.

What is an IPO GMP?

Before diving into Zinka Logistics' IPO GMP, it is important to clarify what GMP means. The Grey Market Premium is an unofficial trading price of a company’s shares before they are listed on the stock exchange. Essentially, the GMP reflects the difference between the issue price (the price at which shares are offered in the IPO) and the price at which these shares are being traded in the grey market, which is an unregulated, off-market platform where IPO shares are bought and sold by traders.

A high GMP generally indicates strong demand for the IPO, suggesting that the stock may see a favorable listing price. Conversely, a low GMP may signal weaker investor interest. Many retail investors use GMP as an informal metric to predict how the stock might perform once it becomes available for public trading on the stock exchange.

Zinka Logistics: The Company

Zinka Logistics Solutions is a logistics and transportation company that primarily offers end-to-end supply chain management services. Established to meet the increasing demand for efficient and integrated logistics solutions, Zinka has carved a niche for itself in sectors such as e-commerce, retail, automotive, and industrial goods. Its services include freight forwarding, warehousing, and last-mile delivery, making it a crucial player in the Indian logistics landscape.

The company’s growth prospects are underpinned by India’s expanding infrastructure, increasing e-commerce transactions, and a growing demand for efficient supply chain services. With the rise of digitalization and shifting consumer trends, logistics companies like Zinka are well-positioned to benefit from these tailwinds.

The Zinka Logistics IPO

Zinka Logistics is set to raise capital through its IPO to fund various business expansion activities, including enhancing its technology infrastructure, expanding its fleet, and strengthening its market presence. The IPO is likely to attract significant attention given the growth potential of the logistics sector in India.

The company’s issue size, pricing, and detailed financials will determine its ultimate valuation and investor sentiment. Early indications suggest that the company is likely to price its shares in a range that is competitive relative to its peers in the logistics space.

IPO GMP for Zinka Logistics

As the Zinka Logistics IPO approaches, market observers have started to closely monitor its Grey Market Premium (GMP), a key gauge of investor appetite. As of now, the GMP for Zinka Logistics is showing positive sentiment, suggesting that investors are optimistic about the company’s prospects.

At the time of writing, Zinka Logistics IPO GMP is reported to be around ₹50-₹60 per share above the issue price. This indicates that the grey market is pricing the stock at a slight premium over the likely issue price, which is an encouraging sign for those considering participation in the IPO. It also suggests that investors are betting on strong listing gains and expect the stock to perform well once it begins trading on the exchange.

Conclusion

While the GMP is not an official or reliable predictor of future performance, it serves as a useful benchmark for investors to gauge market expectations. The positive GMP for Zinka Logistics indicates that there is strong investor interest and belief in the company’s future growth prospects. However, investors should still conduct thorough due diligence and consider all aspects of the IPO, including the financial health of the company, the competitive landscape, and overall market conditions before making investment decisions.

As Zinka Logistics prepares to launch its IPO, the GMP remains a focal point, providing early clues about the market’s reception and the potential for strong listing gains.

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snpcmachine · 1 year ago

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Speed up your brick production speed with fully automatic clay brick making machine

Fully automatic mobile brick making machine by SnPC Machines, First of its kind of machine in the world, our brick-making machine moves on wheels like a vehicle and produces bricks while the vehicle is on move. This allows kiln owners to produce bricks anywhere and anytime, as per their requirements. Fully automatic Mobile brick-making machine can produce up to 12000 bricks/hour with a reduction of up to 45% in production cost in comparison with manual and other machinery as well as 4-times (as per testing agencies report) more in compressive strength with standard shape, sizes and another extraordinary provision exist i.e (that is) machine produced several brick sizes and it can be changed as per customer requirements from time to time. Snpc machines India is selling 04 models of fully automatic brick making machines: BMM160 brick making machine,BMM310, BMM400, and BMM410, (semi-automatic and fully automatic ) to the worldwide brick industry which produce bricks according to their capacites and fuel requirements. Raw material required for these machines is mainly clay, mud, soil or mixure of both. These moving automatic trucks are durable and easy to handle while operating. These machines are eco-friendly and budget-friendly as only one-third of water as compared to other methods is required and minimum labour is enough for these machines. We are offering direct customers access to multiple sites in both domestic and international stages, so they can see the demo and then will order us after satisfaction.

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werindialive · 9 days ago

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Supreme Court Allows LMV License Holders to Drive Transport Vehicles with Conditions

In a significant ruling, the Supreme Court of India has declared that individuals holding a Light Motor Vehicle (LMV) license are permitted to drive transport vehicles, provided they comply with certain conditions. This decision has raised discussions across various sectors, especially among those involved in the transport industry.

The Supreme Court’s ruling comes after a petition challenging the restrictions imposed on LMV license holders. According to the Motor Vehicles Act of 1988, an individual with an LMV license is only authorized to drive private vehicles, not commercial transport vehicles like buses, trucks, and other heavy-duty vehicles. However, the latest judgment revises this stipulation, allowing LMV license holders to drive certain transport vehicles as long as they meet specific qualifications outlined by the court.

Key Details of the Ruling

The court emphasized that while LMV license holders can now drive transport vehicles, they must undergo additional training and obtain a certification for the specific type of transport vehicle they intend to operate. For instance, those wishing to drive large commercial vehicles such as trucks or buses would need to attend special driving schools that focus on transport vehicle operation. The ruling ensures that drivers are well-equipped to handle the unique challenges of driving transport vehicles, ensuring safety and efficiency on the roads.

The Supreme Court further clarified that the transport vehicles in question must meet certain weight and size restrictions. For example, the judgment specifies that an LMV license holder can drive vehicles with a maximum weight of 7,500 kg, a typical threshold for many light commercial vehicles.

Implications for the Transport Industry

This ruling could have significant implications for the transport industry, especially in terms of the availability of drivers. India has faced a shortage of skilled commercial vehicle drivers, and this decision could provide a new pool of potential drivers who are already familiar with the operation of light motor vehicles. It could also reduce the burden on transport companies that struggle to recruit qualified drivers.

However, the ruling may face some opposition from road safety experts and transport associations who express concerns about road safety and the lack of experience among LMV license holders driving heavy vehicles. They argue that transport vehicle driving requires specialized skills that go beyond what is typically learned while driving lighter vehicles.

Conclusion

The Supreme Court’s decision marks a notable shift in India’s road safety laws and regulations, aiming to address the ongoing shortage of commercial vehicle drivers. As this judgment unfolds, it will be essential to monitor how it affects road safety, driver training, and the transport industry as a whole.

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moviemazaxyz · 19 days ago

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Mittran Da Challeya Truck Ni (2024) 720p HDCAMRip Full Punjabi Movie [1GB]

Mittran Da Challeya Truck Ni (2024) 720p HDCAMRip Full Punjabi Movie [1GB] IMDB Ratings: 9.0/10Directed: Rakesh DhawanRelease Date: October 11, 2024 (India)Genres: ComedyLanguages: PunjabiFilm Stars: Amrinder Gill, Sunanda Sharma, Sayani GuptaMovie Quality: 720p HDCAMRipFile Size: 1000MB Screenshot Download Mittran Da Challeya Truck Ni (2024) 720p HDCAMRip Full Punjabi Movie [1GB] Link High…

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harshnews · 22 days ago

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Sunroof Glazing Market Size, Share, Trends, Growth and Competitive Outlook

"Global Sunroof Glazing Market - Industry Trends and Forecast to 2029

Global Sunroof Glazing Market, By Off-Highway Vehicle (Construction Equipment, Agricultural Tractors), Electric Vehicle (Battery Electric Vehicle (BEV), Hybrid Electric Vehicle (HEV), Plug-In Hybrid Electric Vehicle (PHEV)), Product Type (Single Glazing, Double Glazing and Triple Low-E Glazing), Application (Passenger Car, Light Commercial Vehicle, Truck, Bus and Others), Country (U.S., Canada, Mexico, Brazil, Argentina, Rest of South America, Germany, Italy, U.K., France, Spain, Netherlands, Belgium, Switzerland, Turkey, Russia, Rest of Europe, Japan, China, India, South Korea, Australia, Singapore, Malaysia, Thailand, Indonesia, Philippines, Rest of Asia-Pacific, Saudi Arabia, U.A.E, South Africa, Egypt, Israel, Rest of the Middle East and Africa) Industry Trends and Forecast to 2029

Access Full 350 Pages PDF Report @

**Segments**

- **Material Type** - Polycarbonate - Glass

- **Vehicle Type** - Passenger Cars - Light Commercial Vehicles - Heavy Commercial Vehicles

- **Sunroof Type** - Panoramic Sunroof - Built-In Sunroof - Top-Mount Sunroof - Solar Sunroof

**Market Players**

- **Webasto** - **Inalfa Roof Systems** - **CIE Automotive** - **Yachiyo Industry Co., Ltd.** - **Aisin Seiki Co., Ltd.** - **Inteva Products** - **Magna International Inc** - **Covestro AG** - **AGP ASSOCIATES** - **Central Glass Co., Ltd**

The Sunroof Glazing Market is segmented based on material type, vehicle type, and sunroof type. In terms of material type, the market is divided into polycarbonate and glass. Polycarbonate is known for its lightweight and impact-resistant properties, making it suitable for automotive glazing applications. On the other hand, glass is preferred for its optical clarity and scratch resistance. When considering vehicle type, the market caters to passenger cars, light commercial vehicles, and heavy commercial vehicles. Passenger cars account for the highest market share due to the increasing demand for premium features in entry-level and mid-segment vehicles. The sunroof type segment includes panoramic sunroof, built-in sunroof, top-mount sunroof, and solar sunroof, offering different aesthetics and functionalities to consumers based on their preferences.

Key players in the Sunroof Glazing Market include Webasto, Inalfa Roof Systems, CIE Automotive, Yachiyo Industry Co., Ltd., Aisin Seiki Co., Ltd., Inteva Products, Magna International Inc, Covestro AG, AGP ASSOCIATES, and Central Glass Co., Ltd. These companies focus on product innovations, partnerships, and mergers to gain a competitive edge in the market.The Sunroof Glazing Market is witnessing significant growth driven by various factors such as increasing consumer preference for enhanced driving experiences, rising demand for premium vehicles, and technological advancements in automotive glazing materials. Polycarbonate and glass are the key materials used in sunroof glazing, with each offering unique properties and benefits. Polycarbonate is favored for its lightweight nature and high impact resistance, making it an ideal choice for enhancing vehicle safety and reducing overall weight, thereby contributing to better fuel efficiency. On the other hand, glass remains a popular choice due to its superior optical clarity, scratch resistance, and premium feel, appealing to consumers looking for a high-end driving experience.

The segmentation based on vehicle type plays a crucial role in determining the market dynamics of sunroof glazing products. Passenger cars dominate the market share, owing to the increasing trend of incorporating sunroofs in entry-level and mid-segment vehicles to attract customers seeking luxury features. The demand for light commercial vehicles and heavy commercial vehicles is also growing steadily, driven by the need for convenience and comfort in long-haul transportation. The versatility of sunroof types such as panoramic sunroof, built-in sunroof, top-mount sunroof, and solar sunroof further enhances the market offerings, catering to diverse consumer preferences and lifestyles.

Leading market players such as Webasto, Inalfa Roof Systems, and Magna International Inc are actively engaged in research and development activities to introduce innovative sunroof glazing solutions that offer improved performance, durability, and aesthetics. Collaborations with automotive manufacturers and technology providers are enabling companies to stay ahead of competitors by offering cutting-edge sunroof technologies that meet evolving customer demands. Additionally, strategic mergers and acquisitions are helping companies expand their market presence and gain a competitive advantage by leveraging complementary strengths and capabilities.

CIE Automotive, Aisin Seiki Co., Ltd., and Covestro AG are among the key players driving market growth through continuous product enhancements and technological advancements in sunroof glazing materials. These companies are focusing on sustainability and**Global Sunroof Glazing Market, By Off-Highway Vehicle** - Construction Equipment - Agricultural Tractors

**Electric Vehicle** - Battery Electric Vehicle (BEV) - Hybrid Electric Vehicle (HEV) - Plug-In Hybrid Electric Vehicle (PHEV)

**Product Type** - Single Glazing - Double Glazing - Triple Low-E Glazing

**Application** - Passenger Car - Light Commercial Vehicle - Truck - Bus - Others

The Global Sunroof Glazing Market is witnessing a considerable growth trajectory driven by several key factors. The increasing consumer preference for a superior driving experience is prompting the integration of advanced sunroof glazing solutions in vehicles. The market is also benefiting from the rising demand for premium vehicles equipped with innovative features like sunroofs. Technological advancements in automotive glazing materials, particularly in polycarbonate and glass segments, are further fueling market growth by offering enhanced safety, aesthetics, and fuel efficiency.

The segmentation based on vehicle type reflects the evolving dynamics of the sunroof glazing market. Passenger cars dominate the market landscape as automakers are increasingly incorporating sunroofs in entry-level and mid-segment vehicles to attract customers looking for a touch of luxury. Moreover, the demand for sunroof glazing in light commercial vehicles and heavy commercial vehicles is steadily rising, driven by the need to enhance comfort and convenience in long-haul transportation. The diverse range of sunroof types available, including panoramic sunroof, built-in sunroof

The report provides insights on the following pointers:

Market Penetration: Comprehensive information on the product portfolios of the top players in the Sunroof Glazing Market.

Product Development/Innovation: Detailed insights on the upcoming technologies, R&D activities, and product launches in the market.

Competitive Assessment: In-depth assessment of the market strategies, geographic and business segments of the leading players in the market.

Market Development: Comprehensive information about emerging markets. This report analyzes the market for various segments across geographies.

Market Diversification: Exhaustive information about new products, untapped geographies, recent developments, and investments in the Sunroof Glazing Market.

Highlights of TOC:

Chapter 1: Market overview

Chapter 2: Global Sunroof Glazing Market

Chapter 3: Regional analysis of the Global Sunroof Glazing Market industry

Chapter 4: Sunroof Glazing Market segmentation based on types and applications

Chapter 5: Revenue analysis based on types and applications

Chapter 6: Market share

Chapter 7: Competitive Landscape

Chapter 8: Drivers, Restraints, Challenges, and Opportunities

Chapter 9: Gross Margin and Price Analysis

Objectives of the Report

To carefully analyze and forecast the size of the Sunroof Glazing market by value and volume.

To estimate the market shares of major segments of the Sunroof Glazing

To showcase the development of the Sunroof Glazing market in different parts of the world.

To analyze and study micro-markets in terms of their contributions to the Sunroof Glazing market, their prospects, and individual growth trends.

To offer precise and useful details about factors affecting the growth of the Sunroof Glazing

To provide a meticulous assessment of crucial business strategies used by leading companies operating in the Sunroof Glazing market, which include research and development, collaborations, agreements, partnerships, acquisitions, mergers, new developments, and product launches.

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#Sunroof Glazing Market

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