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Self Indulgent Meta Prose Explosion

Posted by on May 25th, 2011 with 0 Comments

For no good reason, why don’t I share this:

So I reached into an old beer box sitting on the top shelf of my closet and grabbed a random book. All the books in there are the journals I’ve kept for the last 15 years. The cardboard bound, limited edition that I happened to pull down starts in May 2003 and ends in August 2004. It begins:

“Aah. La Plaza Rittenhouse.” (I was a year into Spanish classes and was trying to write everything in Spanish)

It ends:

“I love you.”

I’m drained as hell and thought that the book would reveal something interesting and inspiring. In that year, I snapped out of a very long low point and propelled myself almost overnight into a brilliant ball of hope. That happened in April of 2004. All in all though, the book was about as boring as my describing it here. It’s mostly just a sloppy cluster of disorganized thoughts that I had the overwhelming compulsion to put to paper.

I’d write that saving these journals is like saving used toilet paper, but that’s exactly the kind of shit that I used to write in those books. A lot of overwrought emotion in there. But anyway, yeah. Here’s a photo from the same era:

Old Civic Center

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