in many ways i am too self agrandizing.
recentally i've been having an existentialist crisis.
Oscar Zeta Acosta is, perhaps, my favorate novelist. he wrote three books before disappearing mysteriously. until recentally I've always held the notion that great authors come from great feats. as such, i've lost sight of wat it means to be a writer.
Tony. a great wall of a man sat, leaning back, feet purched upon his coffee table. pragmatic would not be a word one might describe this aching body. his features, though old, never tired of thought. in the melon of a head lies the wisdom of ages, of love, of magic. but most of all, it is the life of experiances: an explorer in a world explored. in hortonville, wi, i've found my Delphi.
thank you.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
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