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this month...to the point where my typewriterseize up and croak. So I come at you direct through my quivering quill. Imagine a hack writer fixes withink and he enters his personal Xanadu pleasure dream. But then the Great Publisher reject him outtaEden.I’ve settled back into Tangier they got everything I want. Each trip to the homeland drags me more.How did we ever let our cops get so out of handIf I ever started feeling sorry for my parents I’d never stop. I’m a disappointment but having gone thusfar I’d be a fool not to go further. My word hoard is compost from which the lovely lilies will bloom.Too bad you and me didn’t contact personal for orgone fix but I couldn’t make it to California with allthem conditionals you were laying down.Why are you scared of mind-meld Our buddy-buddy microscopic symbiotes do it alla time. Dysentericamoeba Bil meets sexy-in-his-bristles paramecium Al they rub pellicles—ah the exquisite prickling mydear—and shlup My protoplasm is yours old thing the two of us conjugated into a snot-wad so cozy. Isee me in a Mother Bull Hubbard ectoplasmic gown tatting antimacassars to drape over that harrumphGolgi apparatus of yours.“Just a routine” says Clem standing bare-ass on the milking stool while the gray mare kicks screamingthrough the barn wall. “Sorry old
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