It's not really like I have some kind of "heart knocked good and swelled up, a month overdue to burst, eraserhead for abortion" affliction that it couldn't be helped to let it out now. Frankly the worst thing about writers block is the sedated comfort one can get from the total lack of responsibilities one feels in his life once the employment
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You do realize that I'm going to have to concoct some story about Theraflu and how it can cause vomiting when mixed with orange juice, perhaps making for some kind of stomach virus thing provided one consumes the adequate level of chinese food before hand, so as to get out of yet another day of waiting tables, perhaps meeting, training and molding the new waiter who was supposed to start that day, all just so that I can go to that concert?
Hell, I think it's a great story actually.
Ripe with thoughts of betrayal, excitement, regret, deception, desire... all that that makes for a good honest drama.
Of course I'll pick you up a t-shirt!
I mean, I'll see what I can do.
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Thanks for the add.
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Anyways, I'm Aimee, annnnd I plan to be a very very poor painter when I grow up, either that or a cannibalistic food critic or Tinkertoy. Keeping my options open. I'm from New England, where the people are unfriendly and the weather shitastic. Right now I'm sleep-deprived and I'm trying to figure out the ways one can be a masochistical nihilist, and it's making my head ache, so night!
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Anyway, let me introduce you personally to Chris, an unrealized midwestern genius of extraordinary potential unrealized not of out inability but merely spite towards the human race.
Your head aches because of me... I feel strangely... honored.
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