young
avariceglutton, the good lee noble, will make his way up on the nine train from canal street soon. and we'll eat cake and listen to hot hits on the stereo. perhaps we'll embark on a ridiculous arty exercise while he's down, like that script for a teen slasher short. who knows. maybe we'll do oil pastels like sam and i did the other night. fafa
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and for me, dear livejournal readers, in some macrocosmic sense, every mundane day is a celebration of my first hand job, too. thanks to Joyce there's alliterative justification for reminding myself that when i was 17 years old, i was third-base material.
here's to you, james.
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