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A country boy come to a big city does, when all is said and done, have eighteen or so years of history behind him. It is that history that makes him comprehensible to us. How would we understand him if chronologically he where eighteen but characterologically, a parentless newborn babe? His character would then necessarily lie entirely in his future rather than in his past....
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VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
saintbrat:
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stiles:
Hey there - i got your application for SGMC. Drop me a line letting me know what you ride, bikes you're into, where you've been, etc. so i can get an idea of how you fit into the group. This helps me get past the lack of pic, journal entries, no listed friends, etc.

Thanks! - Stiles

PS - this is a form letter, so i realise that you might have some or all of the above.
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I don't want to hurt anything ever, but what I'm talking about is -- have you ever held a little puppy or a little kitten and it's just the cutest, softest, most precious thing in the world and out of the blue you get this feeling in your gut and all you wanna do is squeeze it. Just fuckin squeeze the shit out of it....
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Gotta get off gonna get hafta get off of this ride
Gotta get hold gonna get need to get hold of my pride
When did i get where did i how was i caught in this game
When will i know where will i how will i think of my name

When did i start feeling sure feeling safe
And start wondering why
Is this...
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sicily:
AHHHAHAHAHAHAHA...ya shoulda jumped up in the middle of the ceremony and taken a bite outta one of those plump asses!! did you go to that fucking hotel...ah shit, the peabody!...if i remember correctly, that files those poor miserable ducks up and down the elevator, onto red carpet and into little fountains twice a day??? why do people do these things?? why?

anyway, sounds horrifying...zoot suit riot?? i'm so sorry...frown
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I am broke, more than that, in debt.
I am tired, hungry, emotionally and physically constipated.
I am intensely dissapointed, in despair, full of regret.
I am lonley, misanthropic, shut in, out sick from work.

I am just returning from a weekend in New York City.
sicily:
jesus fucking christ, put the razor away and get yourself some hot pussy dammit!

ps. ya might want to eat a couple bran muffins, or perhaps exlax might help.smile
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I haven't travelled in some time, not since coastal california tour, summer of 2002. A friend and I saw four out of the five scheduled dates of TOOL's first Lateralus tour. SF twice, LA and SD.

Friday morning I will be heading to NYC on the chinatown express. Maybe we'll bump into each other in times square.

If I was more thoughtful I would have...
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sicily:
the part about marlon brando walking in on his mom having one-legged sex w/a strange man is interesting to say the least... but, the alcoholic part seems a bit irrelevant and is not what amuses me about the scenario. buuuuuuuuutttt, who really gives a fuck anyway.

maybe you can teach me the satanic verses and we can go on a killing spree together! fun fun fun! xoxo
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It was cool out tonight but very humid and wet. At first it was just the water falling from the trees, condensing on the leaves above. Soon it was raining. It was intensely foggy, but I just went faster. My front right side wheel came up off the road. There was suddenly frequent oncoming traffic. Faster. My back end swung out, squirrelly. It pissed me...
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sicily:
did you follow that person home, stand outside their bedroom window and making scratching noises?

how is self-destruction interesting? it's easy and everyone knows how to do it.

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After six weeks I finally got my motorcycle running. Unfortunately, the summer is close to the end. Fortunately, close only counts in horseshoes and handgrenades. I was out most of the night riding around the Pennsylvania countryside visiting friends.

I nearly killed myself three or four times. It was very much fun. A new motorcycle wasn't dangerous enough for me. I got one in bad...
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The Complaint

Tired nature's sweet restorer; blamy Sleep!
He, like the World his ready visit pays,
Where Fortune smiles; the wretched he forsakes:
Swift on his downy pinion flies from Woe,
And lights on Lids unsullied with a Tear.

From short, (as usual) as disturbed Repose,
I wake: How happy they who wake no more!