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January 27, 2009
closet writer, frustrated artist, dreamer.
I have just passed a milestone birthday which I have mixed feelings about. On one hand, I feel wise and that I have arrived at exactly the place I should be. On the other hand, I secretly ask myself why I haven’t preserved my ass as well as Jennifer Aniston has preserved hers… and another part of me says “Who cares?”. I hate games of all sorts. I care nothing for competition except against myself. Soduko puzzles make me contemplate sticking something sharp in my own arm.
I get a physical rash if I try to lie. I get the same rash if I try to do math. If I was ever to play poker (which you know I would never do if you read above.) You would never know if I was lying or trying to add my cards. Same difference.
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