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Saturday, February 21, 2004

I woke up naked. This means I am either extremely anxious or extremely turned on, and given that my brain is cloudy and I can’t think and I’m not particularly turned on, I would imagine the former is true. But I did have a dream in which I found a local newsletter, I believe it was called “Speak Out,” that so embodied my sexual and spiritual values that it began a whole new era in my life, getting naked and painting my body and hanging out with other cool, weird, people, who were also naked and may or may not have had dreadlocks.

But then, of course, I had to wake up. Fuck. And now my brain hurts, partially because I’m anxious, but mostly because I haven’t masturbated in 36 hours—a sure sign that I am addicted. And so, I’m having collossal trouble writing.

I hate this. Shoot me.
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