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ericboy's Diaryland Diary

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Immortality is only a nickel away!

help me write a pulp paperback success

give me your death, your depravity, your sickness, your favor, your lost, your senselessness, your loneliness

give it to me in bite-sized, labelled for individual sale form

allow me to format it and package it and sell it and make myself a fat nickel on each copy sold

give me the juicy, heart-wrenching reality and we can get on Oprah's bookclub

that should get us shared by reading circles

that could push up the revenue immensely

from what memory have these tears been allocated

which face has risen to awaken this memory

and, at the root of it all, from what scents?

from what sense?

Is it merely the biting easterly wind slapping my face or a recollection of a simpler time

simpler only because my overly analytical mind is not in it

after you die, your story ends

but it continues to get told

until all the people that you'd touched in your time pass away

your story will go on for as long as your last friend is alive

then it passes, as well

take these inalienable truths and ask yourself this question to find out who you are as a person:

whose passing will you mourn more: yours or theirs?

the point where your story ends or when your story ceases to be re-told?

Safeguard against it, now!

Write a pulp paperback sensation!

2:11 a.m. - 2003-10-29

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