Gabe and I returned late last night. Somebody once told me that for as many time zones you've crossed, that's how many days your body takes to recover from jet lag. In any case, I'm doing well. My meetings with the BBC didn't turn out as fruitful as I'd hoped, but I was told there might be some opportunities opening up in 2009. Nothing definite
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Is that what you told yourself the last three times?
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I told you before, my smoking is part of my Tale, what defines me as who I am. My drug taking has always been an aid for meditation, sometimes for relaxation. I don't need it as a crutch.
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You're right, you don't need drugs as a crutch, because your Tale does the job nicely.
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If you don't try to quit for the right reasons and for yourself, you won't get very far before you're back at square one again.
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Right.
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Nothing.
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[...] It isn't like me boozing. There's no bleak custody battle I can use as leverage to knock some sense into you. Everyone finds your "aid for meditation" endearing and socially acceptable and there's no one out there to tell you otherwise, not even yourself.
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There's a large difference between concern and reason.
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[...]
I saw that the steakhouse was open on Saturdays. Think I'll use that gift certificate. Might even ask Emily to join me.
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Good for you. You should. Get you out of the house. And it'll certainly impress Emily.
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