My tongue, every atom of my blood, form'd from this soil, this air, (idea)
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Fri Jul 28 2000 at 0:43:23
Ray was a
friend of a friend
and we had never really met. He sent
such good letters
. Pages of typewritten henpeck, I felt honored by the effort and wheedled the old green
out of my grandmother.
Ray lived in Pennsylvania and owned a goat. I wondered whether we had ever breathed a common molecule of air or swallowed a common drop of water, cycled and traveled across the country to where the other one lived. Years later a professor would ask me if I knew the odds on whether I had ever breathed an air molecule that had cycled through
. He said there were no odds, that it was certain,
mathematically, I must have.
I was not impressed I was disappointed. It wasn't so unusual after all,
we had shared nothing rare.
I tried to look at it in a more holistic light, the "we are all one" thing
but I am by nature miserly and jealous
and I didn't want to share with everyone, I wanted to pick and choose.
I like it!
I will show you fear in a handful of dust
I must have three heads
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My memories are spoken in the poetry of recoil, my sperm is oddly bullet-shaped
Of course we had it tough
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First the music, then the fire
the art of unseeing
The music in my head is too loud to think about anything but you
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Synthetic blood substitute
the fierce urgency of now
Transformers 2: Revenge of the Fallen
the grey in his hair had done nothing to tarnish the gleam in his eye
The emotion on her face was always the one that she was feeling in her heart
Operation Sweet Dreams
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Girl with the parking lot eyes
Diary of a Cereal Killer
Writing and publishing
Why Political Correctness is stupid
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Hunter S. Thompson
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To really mess things up takes a machine
somewhere under this dust
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Bob wants me to let my imagination
I hate you Annie
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