too many radishes to count. how many pylons is it going to take, to make everyone just stop. perhaps we just keep catering to the shadow, day in and day out, him and i. we both had a conversation last night. an honest conversation. i wrote it down, while scarfing down my greaseburger at majestic. we talked at length about new orleans possibilities. he sees the ruin and the winos and the humidity and the filth as opportunity. i scoffed at the idea. i want to stay here, with my own winos and gambling and relentless searching. but he hit the nail on the head. i wasn't hung up over anyone, just why i kept thinking back for my own reasons. my companion offered the suggestion and i took it upon myself to discover this mythological representation. today. i need to call the crazy person and get her number. she came to my place once before, ate spectacular chicken curry formed by yours truly and his wok of uncooked destruction. no modesty here. she got my number then. i don't have hers. this situation needs to be corrected. today.
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