That I should feel privileged or lucky or somehow special doesn't occur to me. Just a normal Joe, going about his business. Nothing means anything more than anything it appears to be. Garbage, for instance, is merely crap you have to deal with. Rake leaves into a pile and burn them, it's not really brain surgery. I'm almost a simple guy, you see where I'm going here. Almost. Life throws this shit back in your face. Confronted thus. I'd like to say I responded reasonably, but maybe throwing your sorry ass through a plate-glass window wasn't politically correct. I'd have to check the guide book here. Your name was, excuse me, what?
Monday, July 11, 2011
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