So, I have stuck to my no new books until September or so (barring five or six large loopholes) pledge. The toughest part was a freakishly odd self-published poetry collection at a thrift store for 25 cents. If it weren't for the rules, that would've been automatic. This instant, I got an email from a Buddhist publisher offering me a 35% discount
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F451 and DW were in my teens. They're still here somewhere though. I feel like my recollection of them is colored by the many other opinions and articles I've read in the decades since, but I still view DW as the more "me" of the two, which then leads into The October Country, among others.
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