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January 25, 2011
Exalted in the grand sense of the collective, hunkered solemnly in the echo dome of head waiting for the word...by singular fascinations with the hosts of being alive in the precise moment of knowing it; greeting them grandly, openly displaying the love and regret, the sad elevation of having forgotten them for so long, having to admit the conscious denial, the rash fevers begetting the sores of soul and mind....turning in to turn away, that rude irony operated like a popcorn machine you keep hidden in the cellar, listening to what could only be described as your death.