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LiveJournal for anapnea.
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| Thursday, July 10th, 2008 |
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GET OFF MY LAWN comment to be added |
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| Monday, August 1st, 2005 |
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| Kissing him was like eating cake off the blade of a knife. | ||
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| Wednesday, July 27th, 2005 |
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| I want to fill my house with books, paper the walls with straining shelves, so that a child can grow up between the musty volumes, soft and oblivious, until one day she realizes what it means to read and suddenly the room sings into being, reveals itself as a suspended symphony of moments and voices and minds, and she won't be able to breathe for the beauty of it all. | ||
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| Saturday, December 11th, 2004 |
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| My poetry a row of dominoes collapsing as fast as I can write. A leach of meaning I cannot stop, cannot grow on. Strange and alien or much too familiar. Soy sauce on my lips. | ||
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| Saturday, November 20th, 2004 |
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I will quote a verse of your poetry and pull it (trembling) to the ground. * We have all become escape artists. |
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| Tuesday, November 16th, 2004 |
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At some point we have to be disillusioned by the question, why can't you love me like I love me? * To dissociate the journal from the everyday, for a certain degree of personality extinction to occur, entries should be made in the small hours. This should go on until the journal is wiped off the radar of daytime, an oriental ghost expiring smokily in the light. Imagine the screen, with its iceberg colour scheme, as the brightest light source in a dim room. Imagine the machine humming into quietness. These are the only conditions under which all this exists; biology does not pressure. * A man who writes diary entries a day ahead, to highlight the monotony of his life. It becomes the closest he could get to predestination. |
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LiveJournal for anapnea.
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