victims of / a half-hearted love

i have to move all my shit to hyde park today, back to hyde park, which represents like the 093284234th time i’ve moved in my life; i’m very excited about this, actually, as i will now be living above the pot and pan company on 53rd street (not to mention a check cashing place, a Subway, a jackson hewitt tax agent, and an elementary school) anyway i don’t have to time to explain, i just came to get you out of here. you got my diary? and i used it. and the tomb of sir anselm? found it. did you see him?

i will promise that soon i will have science-based infotainment regarding:

:: that cover story in the reader about the little kid who will probably never stop getting beat up, because of the cover story in question
:: shaquille o’neal and his crusade against intolerance
:: why terry bradshaw and abraham lincoln are both bad people
:: your 2005 cleveland indians and their aesthetic proximity to god
:: working at a liquor store
:: the hyde park renaissance of 05
:: fake alcoholics on the N22 bus

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