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About

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.

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I'm Gish. I guess this is what one can call the remnants of a pre-mid-life crisis. I listen to too much music and read too many books, and it all means nothing. Abrasive, I smoke too much, drink too much coffee and hardly sleep. Alive. Be sure to check out the new links to blogs, photos, music and other sorts of good stuff at the very bottom of the page.

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the cost of vanity

So I stubbed my toe again. This time it's pretty bad. It's the second toe and it's angry looking and dark pink. I don't want to go to a doctor because, well....it looks terrible and it's a toe, for God's sake. Just a toe.

Although I suppose it could totally rot and fall off. Hrmmm....

Besides, it's the last Friday before Christmas, I don't think I can find a doctor. And I don't even want anyone to look at it, let alone touch it. Our bodies are so fragile.

Let's talk parking tickets. You know how it's a pain in the ass to get one, and no one likes, in fact people hate getting tickets. Ok, that's been established. OK, then you hear about people freaking out, totally losing it when they get tickets. Alright, we've established there are nutso people who get angry about getting a fine when they park illegally.

So my question is: Why are they so angry when they get a ticket, when it's their own fault for parking like a moron?

oh my god, I just realised I've pissed away most of the day sitting in a lounge chair, dressed in jogging pants and a man's undershirt.

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