“I couldn't live a week without a private library
- indeed, I'd part with all my furniture and squat and sleep on the floor
before I'd let go of the 1500 or so books I possess.” ― H.P. Lovecraft

Whistling In The Graveyard

Saturday, July 19, 2003

Well, it's official; I am a real West Virginian. My popcorn crop has withered and died. Apparently the little sprout couldn't take direct sunlight and actual soil, having been weaned on fluorescent bulbs filtered through dirty dishes, cigarette butts and beer. I am now awaiting my federal bailout check.

You know, having dead crops and no shortage of women that done me wrong, all I need is a busted pickup truck and a dead dog to have a country music hit.


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