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Tonight I'm drunk. I was told that my service was appreciated while I sat reading a book I should've read in my youth. on the front porch of my workplace. The country music twanged, and the nationalism was thick. Almost as thick as the sticky summer stank. If you've ever lived in the South you know what I mean. There's a country stank. Not that its' a bad thing, I actually love it very much. A combination of goldenrod, cowshit, and love. A stank.
I giggled to myself that the woman had no idea what she was being grateful for. Then I remembered what he said, and I smiled even more fiercely.
So I will go tomorrow. See my children in the care of another. See what lessons are being taught. I have everhy expectation that I will object to damn near everything, for anyting based upon .... shit is surely doomed thusly...
I wonder also if I'm fucking whacked in the head, chock full of antiquities and idealisms, while the rest of the world turns around me and uses me for its' greedy purposes. This makes me want to ask why I should preserve this body instead of killing it, and in the meantime maintaining a bit of sanity during the high...
sincerely reader,
why the hell not make applesauce?
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