user since
Tue Oct 24 2000 at 02:05:05 (14.1 years ago )
last seen
Tue Sep 28 2010 at 04:07:36 (4.2 years ago )
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most recent writeup
Coins slip from my fingers
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Mr. Earbrass stands on the terrace at twilight.
It is bleak; it is cold; and the virtue has gone out of everything.
(Edward Gorey)





























America, I have given you all and now I'm nothing.
America, two dollars and twenty-seven cents, January 17, 1956.
I can't stand my own mind.
(Allen Ginsberg)






























Kiss me, you are beautiful. These are truly the last days.












































(My bookmarks are mostly things I would like to add to someday, so don't pay them too much mind...)