"I felt like crying but nothing came out. it was just a sort of sad sickness, sick sad, when you can't feel any worse. I think you know it. I think everybody knows it now and then. but I think I have known it pretty often, too often."
— Charles Bukowski (Tales of Ordinary Madness)
Saturday, July 12, 2008
rainy night in Lost Vegas
May the god's weep upon you as thee angels go bowling.
All my love to you, crazy and beautiful, intriguing and cruel, cruel world.
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