So on friday night I almost killed some guy. I think he might have been a Neo-Nazi, which is all the more reason for me to have killed him. He spit on my friend Josh... and I asked him if he thought it would be funny if I vomited on him. This statement confused him as I began cracking my neck and knuckles. Then I realized that I am now
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Good job not killing that guy.
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As for the despression... I'm with you there... not sure how to fix it... but if you need to talk, drop me a line and I'll work something out...
Catcher in the Rye is a good choice... I miss free reading... although I'm slowly working on Herman Wouk's "Inside, Outside" which is just now starting to get interesting...
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