File1, 2, & 3 for zamores:


INFO300

File1:

He had one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance
in it, that you may come across four or five times in life. It faced, or
seemed to face, the whole external world for an instant and then
concentrated on you with an irresistible prejudice in your favor.
It understood you just as far as you wanted to be understood,
believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself.

The truth was that Jay Gatsby, of West Egg, Long Island,
sprang from his Platonic conception of himself. He was a son of God-a
phrase which, if it means anything, means just that-and he must be about
His Father's business, the service of a vast, vulgar, and metricious
beauty. So he invented just the sort of Jay Gatsby that a seventeen
year old boy would be likely to invent, and to this conception
he was faithful to the end.

Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year
by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that's no matter-
tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther... And
then one fine morning-So we beat on, boats against the current, borne
back ceaselessly into the past.

File2:

Do you guys know what I did to get in here? I taped Larry Lester's buns
together. Yeah, you know him? Well then, you know how hairy he is, right?
Well, when they pulled the tape off, most of his hair came off and some
skin too. And the bizzare thing is, is that I did it for my old man.

I tortured this poor kid because I wanted him to think I was cool. He's
always going off about, you know, when he was in school, all the wild
things he used to do, and I got the feeling that he was disappointed
that I never cut loose on anyone right? So I'm sitting in the locker room
and I'm taping up my knee and Larry's undressing a couple lockers down
from me and he's kinda, kinda skinny, week, and I started thinking
about my father and his attitude about weakness, and the next thing I knew
I, I jumped on top of him and started wailing on him. Then my friends,
they just laughed and cheered me on.

And afterwards, when I was sitting in Vernon's office, all I could
think about was Larry's fater and Larry having to go home and explain
what happened to him. And the humiliation, the f***ing humiliation he
must have felt. It must have been unreal. I mean, how do you apologize
for something like that? There's no way. It's all because of me and my
old man. God, I fucking hate him. He's like, he's like this mindless
maching I can't even relate to anymore. "Andrew, you've got to be
number one. I won't tolerate any losers in this family. Your
intensity is for sh**." You sonofab**ch. You know, sometimes I wish my
knee would give and I wouldn't be able to wrestle anymore. He could forget
all about me.

File3:

Hi, my name is Zach


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