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August 30, 2007
In the discotheque of my discontent I dance alone to David Bowie songs. When you pull your lyrics out of a hat you destroy sentimentality
In the dance hall of my destruction I hail Tristan Tzara. I find meaning in the meaningless. I spin and spin and spin until I finally disconnect. A fate I have been slouching toward my whole life.
In the roller rink of my redemption I am no longer responsible for my beast self. I see things for what they are
potentiality is ground to dust. I dance the dance of the end of the world