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August 12, 2012
There was never a time when I reveled in bars packed with bodies and booze and music so loud it makes my pancreas cringe and my eardrums feel like they're going to not only rupture but tear clear from the coziness of my ear canal and fling themselves on the mercy of a beer-sticky floor, begging to be trod upon by legions of uncaring outdated shoes. Maybe I was born a granny, because I prefer music that leaves my internal organs intact, and if I like it and turn to tell the person next to me, he can hear me.