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     How can it be appreciated?  When someone EXPECTS something from you that you didn't think of when they walked in the door with rosy cheeks and a grin so sharp it could slice shit, or something harder.  Think-you're sitting, writing, dreaming, so occupied with your activity, and you expect your person, BUT NOT SOON, just eventually in the night, and he, she, it comes, "Surprise!"  ANd you're glad, slightly, happy to see them, but they're a little happier.  They kiss you, they lay you down, and hug you and you take it all well, but you're a busy...And when you want to get up to take a shower, you come out to a different person, a naked one.  And when they see you clothed, they're upset. 

 
 
 
 
 
 
     So it seems, I mean, not to be so general, that all these post-modern journals are so angry and so cloud-high; they aren't real.  They cry about unknown babies, and they describe nothing just to make you, hmm..haah...thiink.  But I, I'm telling it to every eye that eats these letters that they are of a real girl...

     So tomarrow, I work, and sitting in this class, 8..well, 8:01, and this librarian is so sad.  Who would put away all the sex you could have in your gut, beaming and thumping, JUST to order books and indulge in the science of bookism and MICROfilm and MICRO-fish and, oh, what else?  Periodicals!  She's so sad.  She is just so deep in her-I wonder what her religion is.  I see her quaking like a Quaker or sleeping in a Jesus temple.  I think she's grey because she's..

Grey, like the look alike ethipians.  It doesn't deserve a capital, they're all ethiopians and they are all grey with round foreheads and that nose.