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why didn’t you bang her?
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i would have banged her. harder to come by than a bach cd.
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superb.
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Im so confused, lost and confused lol. But im loving it, keep em commin.
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(about how this wistful story may one evening end…)
Me: Don’t interrupt me, i’m writing poetry…
Her: Damnit Harvey, I think i’m pregnant.
Me: Hark at the wind!
Her: *a tear
Me: I’ll have to bend the coat hanger myself.
(roughly) THe ENd
harvey, these extensions you keep adding are like in Great Expectations when the publisher insisted that the main character and his childhood love re-unite instead of Charles Dickens ending. I think mine is does what is so rare, namely, to be artful but true-to-life at the same time.
It is of no use to love. It’s true, I need no one… absolutely no one. I necessarily transport the useful, yet I put myself in a situation that makes me relative. Not just that, which makes the certain fragile. One must really be mad… Frankly, it’s the last time I speak to a perfect stranger.
Poor Harvey, Love has nothing to do with need. To never speak with a stranger is so unadventurous. The greatest adventures in life come from strangers.
Certain types of need preclude love, most necessarily those needs of the vast reticulum which require control of ones own comings and goings both internal and external. Love removes oneself from the security of what is within the sphere of an individuals understanding, and therefore complicates both the desires and the mind by inclusion of another into the folds of a singular existance.
Harvey doesn’t need women biting him on the hand.
Grace is borne from fragility, I am sure of that.
A fragile woman is grand. So too is a man. Only they are too obtuse to understand this… lol
One must be intelligent to love, but we already know that. However one must be very intelligent to truly love… and this is not such common knowledge!
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