i wake up in the living room, it's late for me: almost six-thirty.
the airbed was moved behind the sofa for me to sleep on because jack and judy showed up yesterday.
i suppose that it's really some kind of honor to be here with jack. a little over thirty years ago he put a book together known as the emperor wears no clothes, this book is where
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when i started counting on this 33yrold guy named ryan landers for rides to city council meetings he kept saying shit like "i wish we could get some good acid" or "you might end up with your clothes off tonight" i decided that everyone would be led to believe that i was 16, born on the day peter tosh died.
lame, huh?
now i'm three years further from being thirty. ;)
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in so many ways you seem far far older than your years. i know a lot of that has been from the pain of your life so far. here's hoping for a lot more good times. xo
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