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hilarious, really

24 Aug

It’s Friday morning. I’m sitting at the kitchen table, listening to the acoustic version of On Your Porch, wondering if this song is pushing me further into my head or making me a quiet kind of hopeful. Burned another piece of toast, so I left it in the toaster oven for someone else to throw away or eat, probably throw away. I know I write an awful lot of Fireman. I feel that if he were to stumble upon my blog, he’d be overwhelmed by me again and fail to see that he’s so important because he’s my funniest story, not because I still love him or ever did. Sorry, bro. And as old friends, I would like to see him again. I would like for the two of us to sit across from each other at a table with one or two other mutual friends, a little bit of food, and a just enough alcohol to make everything just a little bit funny. Seriously, though, I can’t be the first one to speak to him again. I guess I’ll have to wait for him to think of this his self. I should tell you another story. I have yet to tell you about Magician. Magician? Magician, you out there? You ready for this?

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