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2001-02-27

I sit with my back turned to the silent TV screen, but in the lower right hand corner of my glasses I can see the reflection of a squinty-faced guy standing in front what looks like the side of a circus tent, this evening's flag is so big. I am missing the State of the Union address�deliberately. For me, to listen would be like wondering what really happened between Tom and Nicole. Why bother? You'll never hear the truth; the truth isn't there to be spoken or revealed. No truth, nothing but adolescent urges (Go for it! Neat!) and revulsions (I'm outa here!) washing to and fro across the grown-ups' shoes. Bush, Cruise�they're what happens when pranksters set off cherry bombs in heaven's boys' room.

But I've driven my European-style sister from the room in order to create an entry (her arrival last night coincided with my efforts to write a third paragraph, with predictable results, given my innate disinclination to "follow through" as I believe the teachers put it), so I might as well continue typing whatever comes into my head.

For instance: I have removed my link to the binx as she has never reciprocated the "compliment" (as I believe I am hypocritical enought to call it) nor has she prevailed upon her adoring cybermate to acknowledge my existence. I am too tender to take it anymore! The NEW link is to my friend "Flotsam" of Boston, Massachusetts.

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