fight club

I am Jack’s inflamed sense of rejection.

I am Jack’s inflamed sense of rejection.

I am Jack’s inflamed sense of rejection.

My kite (mentioned in 8002, below) has landed with a jarring thud. It snapped down the middle, held together only with Scotch tape and the small bit of luck that remains. Hope was the kite string and it came untied.

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~ by automaticbrainchild on September 21, 2009.

Posted in Uncategorized

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