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This is what it could look like when one completely deconstructs a life as one knows it, and how to build from the ground up. Alternatively, this is a fresh look at an old story. The fine art of falling apart.

unless you step out into the light, the light..

I had to come back and write again. Things have been broiling around in my head for the past two hours. Like red pears and the little blue bowl they sit in. Or the fat yellow candle that sits beside me, eating up my cigarette smoke.

Or unanswered telephone calls that cause me to leave stilted, retarded messages. Or enough gall in my bladder to leave comments on a rockstar's photo page. And expect a tidy hello in my inbox. It's the ego, I tell you. Both of us.

And, thanks to him, I can't get Daniel Johnston's song True Love will Find you in the end out of my head. It's just eating my ears up right now. Even though I've heard all this stuff in another life, it still sounds new. Almost like home. If that makes sense.

And I've been trying to grow out my bangs to a long length, but I can't hack the 'in between' stage, so I hacked them off at the knees tonight. Now I'm sporting super short Bif Naked type bangs, which leads me to wonder if I took maybe a bit too much off.

Never satisfied, I tell you. I think I look like a vulcan now.

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