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I walked the dog about fifteen minutes ago, really to have a smoke and not for his benefit.
I stepped out, and it was brisk, refreshing, like a slap in the face, but a nice one, I guess.
I could see my breath when I exhaled, but it wasn't cold enough for me to close my leather jacket.
We took a stroll down the block...
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HERE I AM.
ROCK YOU LIKE A HURRICANE.

That was fun. Back to the Bell Jar.
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Me and the male heterosexual lifemate are going on to Brooklyn tomorrow to house-sit. CROOKLYN EXPEDITION WILL BE ROCKED LIKE A HURRICANE.
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Is it natural to be competitive?
Because I'm about to try to woo a girl that I'm not totally interested in for the sake of competition.
Yikes.
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I was planning on taking a ridiculous impromptu travel to Seattle for the sake of unabashed lunacy, but I opted for saving my money for now in order to buy a 1994 Hyundai Elantra and a swank apartment of my own to get out of my shithole.

To make up for my own disappointment, I bought a bottle of Alize and pretended to be P....
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llouys:
kerouac == rad, and i don't care how many people say he's a hipster cliche.

of moliere i know naught.