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Alchemy
Alchemy They say it is a process. Maybe it is. I still haven't been able to cry. Even though I feel like it sometimes. I don't think crying is part of the process. Lately I have been putting on music and laying in the darkness, with white noise in the background. Morbid? I was thinking of my uncle. He used to tell me stories about how he saw Batman at the bar last night, or he hung out with the Leprechaun, or The Gremlins, or Chucky. I believed him because it was him. And it made me happy. Later in life, at his secret hideaway apartment, by the expressway, he asked if I remembered the stories. I said yes. Seeming to relive the spirit of the age, the zeitgeist, and yet, ahead of space and time, he said if he saw Chucky he would tell him to have to have a seat and be cool, offer him a beer. Anything you want Chucky. Somehow, it was just as real as any other time he told me the story. In a Chucky marathon, I was moved by a declarative and aspirational statement made by him: I am me, and I dig it. *. *. * |
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Is that you?
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Yes. I don't know if the photo came out clear. (I will add hopefully clearer one) I decided to take the ice bucket challenge... but I'm not doing the tide pod challenge. Actually, I viewed it as sort of an exchange for my voyeuristic activities. *. *. *
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