Red Rot

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my thoughts as quinn (a writing excercise to help a stuck husband, and the zine continues)

why do people like my subconcious?
thin black lines on paper scribbled into faces.

whosever faces it becomes.

abstract photographs, patterns, me vs. the sea. another zine. once started, never finished.

one lonely seagull drawing on the blank page. i crossed most of this out. too honest. too obvious. i cant be all jokes. my wife and i sat in bed laughing for hours about the yeti. racking our brains for puns--how they are like us, an advanced race...

elaborate imaginations into the typewritten story of an adventure I have never lived.

your story. my story.

judged for content.
gerald ford twisted in ink,
the holy mother in a cinnamon bun.
each something from nothing.
everyones an easy audience compared to me.

11:15 p.m. - 2007-05-21

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other diaries:

automatos
emotionalist
virtu
bethandbeth
reno-dakota
dalinography
eyesout
whitepants
saint-erin
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williambost
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