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July 10th, 02:06
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And, there, behind the glass; in the seamless migration of clouds from right to left, across a sky fading from purest blue to a dirty lavender and an earth reaching with fingers of 'crete and smoke, I would like to have found god. There was but myself, unimpassioned, addressing the minutiae of phenomena in a marriage so inexpressably (though not inexplicably) daedal that I could at least imagine them; divine.
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July 5th, 14:51
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Balancing my newly increased sense of wonder and calm at mundane beauty, such as just the right amount of sun coming over the trees to light my room orange and tickle my skin, has been the frequent skirting around a deep pit of loss.

Beyond my usual inability (inhibition) to articulate anything to the outside I find myself increasingly convinced there's only one person I can really talk to about how I'm feeling and what's been happening. It is precisely my luck that she has disappeared, as she is wont to do, and I am sure Benjamin is growing tired of being my agony aunt.
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June 25th, 00:34
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index and ring tracing the curve of a breast
mouths lingering in the twilight where a kiss is all but irrevocable
it rained, outside, for weeks
but lament turned to hope
for echos to become whispers



rainy day music:
Ladyhawke - My Delirium
Bat for Lashes - Daniel
Kap Bambino - Dead Lazers
Willard Grant Conspiracy & Telefunk - Grun Grun
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June 5th, 18:35 Crank File-
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Mother Energy Drink. Slogan is A Mother Load of Energy. They have billboards spanning an entire downtown city block with this slogan plastered all over them. Cannot find contact information for whoever was the complete incompetent who managed to balls-up this incredibly common phrase. Imagine the brief went something like this:
Marketing Campaign: 'Relentless' rebranding as 'Mother'
Prev. Campaigns have emphasized the 500ml can. New slogan to fit with that angle but work in the new brand name as well as a complete and utter failure at recognising homophones.
At least Coca-Cola is only pushing this shit in Australia and New Zealand rather than parading their incompetence globally.


Faux Denim. ┬┐Seriously? Denim looks terrible. Denim has always looked terrible. ┬┐Remember the 80s when Denim was seriously in vogue? Everyone looked terrible. The one selling point denim has always had was that it is a tough material. Not that it looks good. It doesn't. It looks terrible, and so does your fake denim leggings.
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June 3rd, 01:02
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My lips part
and, there,
escapes a little of me -
enveloped in your softness -
a gasp!
and my head splits open for more
I close my eyes to see you
and let lose this sweet misery
addiction
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May 23rd, 23:16
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Heather left a week ago. My eyes dried two days ago. Sometimes I would just burst into tears and not even know why. The quietude of the apartment was deafening; traumatising, unexpected.

It's difficult to dwell on it though when I have more weightier issues to consider.

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April 18th, 10:19 Mind, blown.
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Since canceling my dvd-renting service I had rediscovered that my Bose system somehow got region-locked at some point and so all but one of my dvds does not work in it (What's Up Tiger Lily?).

This morning Heather reminded me to google up how to unlock it. Apparently Bose is owned by Namco and still uses console-style cheat codes from the 90s, so all I needed to do was a little right-arrow, up-arrow action on my remote and it will now play all dvds again.



I am still in shut-down mode.
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April 9th, 12:39
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I know now, first in months, where I stand. The issue is that I do not like it, and beginning last night into today I have been struck with a paralyzing dread of my life. It is no longer ennui with which I am afflicted, but a pervasive sense of an ending in movement. A perceived stall that I foresee self-actualising.

I have been feeling increasingly lonely in the last few weeks, and last night I wished desperately that I could cry.
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March 6th, 20:22
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I woke from her knee in my side, and her face beamed from above me. Her eyes danced above a grin and for all my life I would've sworn they were gloating were not they accompanied by her obliviousness of me as anything more than a superficial fixture in her world. I could smell the sweat of her sins and beaded excitement wreathed her. What little she wore served merely to accentuate what that which eluded me. Not a word passed between us. I woke, genuinely, and found her beside me, oblivious to me with her body cloaked. I woke hating her as she is, as she was, how I let her be, and myself.

I've spent the day twisting this phantom knife as deep as it will go.
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