How white my shirts can be

And I’m driving in my car
And a man comes on to tell me
How long my life will be
But he can’t be a man ’cause he doesn’t smoke
The same cigarettes as me

…a wild night, I love watching the fronds and limbs of trees wave in the wind. We’re having a typhoon.

How odd that I feel as snug as a bug in a rug given the tumor. Or is it “tumour”, British style, like Every Man In His Humour, by Ben Jonson?

Galen thought it was a sort of black bile.

Listen!

Hello! This is your mother. Are you there? Are you coming home?

Don’t know, Ma. Kids might need me. Wanna set an example other than Kurt Cobain.

So you better get ready…ready to go. You can come as you are…but pay as you go.

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