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if holden caulfield is real and is living, if he chanced upon me, he'd beat the shit out of me and kill me with his bare fists. i am a fake. i love everything and anything anglo, thinks and act like i'm anglo when i'm actually not. i worship another race because i think my own race is incompetent and impotent when i might actually be more incompetent and impotent than they are. which makes me, as holden caulfield would have put it, a phony. a first-class, gold-plated, honey-brazen phony.

:):):)

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Sunday, December 11, 2005

the thing about vending machines.

i've been wanting to put this up. taken weeks ago during the post-imma-failure period, it gave me a good laugh. it was after my run at the woodlands stadium and i was thirsty as hell so i went up to this vending machine to get a drink:

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i just had to laugh. who in the world would think of such an idea? it's not ridiculous but it's quite uncalled for. a mystery drink, eh? i never did try that 'mystery drink' though.

oh, and this made me smile:

where scattershots of rainbow shards kept netting light - says:
geez.
where scattershots of rainbow shards kept netting light - says:
and stop listening to bond you fag.

sorry, airina. :-)


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