i dreamt that i was writing in my journal, but was doing so by stitching rune-like glyphs into the underside of a worn couch cushion. sinking into the joint between seat bottom and back, i was swallowed up by the sofa and went unnoticed by my passing housemate despite my efforts. i found myself unable to make a sound: i had thought of a joke
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(I'm glad you liberated these, btw.)
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actually, i think my problem is the opposite, somehow managing to seek out isolation in what amounts to a wide open public forum. hiding it under couch cushions and the like. i can put up a ridiculous resistance to community and other good things.
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I see you know Eran...
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i had a cemetery-and-coffee youth too - small-town connecticut, home of 24-hour fuck-all, blue laws, lockjaw...
and eran is awesome, hands down. hi, i'm kirsten.
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Mister lostcosmonaut was telling me something about little friends here? Perhaps you can unlock the magic, or show me the peephole? If no, it's okay. If yes, then hooray!
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