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an open apology to J. Imri and other frustrated readers

Dear all,

I'm sorry that I occasionally write in a cryptic fashion. Sometimes it's hard to be bold and clear with information that you don't want pasted in the interweb, hotlinked from my parent's family blog. It's one of the problems with writing in a place where your friends and family read. What if I want to talk about an incident where someone really bothered me? oh, I can't because the person that bothered me reads this site.
Maybe I need thicker skin. Maybe I should just keep it to myself.
Does no one enjoy the mystery? Who is she talking about? What's with the little scribbled space station? Who the devil is joanna newsom anyway?

You can ask you know. I'll probably tell you.

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This page contains a single entry from the blog posted on November 8, 2007 1:42 PM.

The previous post in this blog was the state of my face, written in verse and performed to the tune of Kanye West's "Through the Wire".

The next post in this blog is true story (with no alternate meaning or incomprehensible references to anyone).

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