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shiny objects

Saturday, July 24, 2004


These late nights are starting rot my brain . . . and I LIKE IT.  I wake up every day between noon and 2pm, encrusted with dried sweat, reeking of other people's cigarettes.  Wearily, I brush the scum from my teeth and settle down with a cup of overly-sweetened tea. 
 
What transpired the night before?  My memory refuses to place events in linear order.  I recall sipping wine from a box, racing down the highway, hopping from cafe to cafe, telling a girl how to prevent implantation of a newly conceived embryo by raising her blood pH to toxic levels with household chemicals, singing along to David Bowie in the car, getting ash in my eye, reading tarot cards, walking around a residential area in my underwear, dancing dancing dancing . . .
 
This is the life, man.  This is THE LIFE.


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