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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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Monday, July 17, 2006

paracetamols, 5 tablets each taken with coke light. consequences came with our heads as heavy as a cement truck, as stoned as zombies in resident evil (but much cooler), with eyes that can barely open properly and with slaps by mark toh because of the stupidity. tintin and me, aye, brainless fuckwit.

and why did we even do it?

answer: for fuck's sake, savvy?

aye, aye. i was pete dunham the whole day (or at least i thought i was).



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