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2008-May-22 23:26 - cigarettes |
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I had just returned from an excursion into the past but in a sense I walked around every day feeling as if I had been transported into the future, a minor character in an impossibly long and plotless episode of The Jetsons. It occurred to me that perhaps only children lived in the present. The rest of us live in the past, our physical selves stumbling through a future that grows more unrecognizable with each passing day.I dried my hands and went back out into the hall. I still had the not quite-finished bottle of Schmidt’s and my staunchly glowing strong French cigarettes. I could hear Frank singing again now: Try to think that love?s not around But it?s uncomfortably near My old heart ain?t gaining no ground Because my angel eyes ain?t here
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