i've been writing in a yellow 50-cent 100-page college rule spiral-bound notebook sometimes at night before i go to sleep and slipping it back under my bed as to not rouse suspicion of heresy from the order of silence. i think the notebook just lays there, under my bed, resting on the newly painted concrete floor like a nine and a half by eleven
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my computer's been on the brink of sputtering out its last webpage for the last two months, but it's back now and healthy, so i'm back now and healthy
i found a bed by the dumpster the month before last and lugged it up to my apartment, which is really more like a treehouse, i just found a mattress and am now pretty much legitimately here. mixed feelings about it, head up, eyes forward, always too many things to think about
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