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it is warm out and there is nothing going on in my head. i feel the stagnant muck from lack of creative output building up, but there's nothing going on and i don't know what to do it's warm out. perhaps it is time to begin my yearly reading of On The Road. only to be read in the hot sun. the cover fell off my copy. if I read that, surely words will come bursting out, as they always do --
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