so she calls out of the blue. los vegas at first, but unsuccessfully. shes leaving soon, to la forever, and she wants to talk. coffee. my cars dead so i skate. we talk. she says shes a bitch and that shes sorry. i accept only the apology, and its all good. she still smokes turkish gold. normally the smell would make me dry-heave, but not with her.
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"now she is all but gone ... but the smoke still lingers"
c'mon now. if we're going to try and be artsy. do it with style.
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so please, take your 2 yen back, their the wrong currency. if i need help with style, ill give you a call. after all, whats more stylish than hiding behind internet anonymity?
on second thought, get the fuck out of my office. this interview is over. what kind of moron confuses a personal recollection of events with art?
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