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...hosted a party last month. It was a "prime timers" party; but every kwear in town pretended to be thirty or over, or to have the hots for such, it seems, just to check out Pete-N-Corey's latest project. Pete, the ice queen gym bunny jew- butter won't melt in his mouth - and Corey, the genuine soul - a little more in touch with working men and artists. Mind you, these are MY judgements about people I barely know because I interact with them only sporadically - not the least reason
So, I dropped out of FSU's creative writing program, got horribly depressed and did nothing. I would stay inside my trailer for days on end
But now I'm blonde and tan again. I work at Heinz Nurseries, and it wears me out. It's a 40 minute commute from Highway 20. I move plants around, handle customers, load pinestraw, repot plants (not such a big deal moving a 1-gallon plant up to a 3-gallon pot, but the 15-gallon trees moving into 25-gallon pots is very hard work ;) I handle
My car battery's dead. I'm out of tobacco. I finished my excellent book, cryptonomicon, and have nothing to keep wedged open with the rim of my dinnerplate, or prop up on the pillow beside me at bedtime for a few minutes to fend off the terrible dreams. So I've been reading these horribly depressing stories from the scribner's anthology of modern short fiction--not out of choice, mind you--it's seems as if all you need to win the literary accolades, to be published in a scribner's anthology,