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INTERTITLE: Malsata, City of Drones!!!

Tossed off the screenplay fragment and now I'm going to write some prose, just something random. Don't know. Listening to trance is weird, rhythmic, and entirely mechanical. I spend most of my time feeling entirely mechanical. Does that seem drastic? I ate a bowl of tortellini and I'm going to the script meeting shortly, say in an hour or so, but I have to wait for laundry to finish in the dryer so that I have pants. Pants. I can't believe I need to wear pants. Everything is limitless and electric.

Comments (3)

Mineauge:

Flattery, child, pure flattery! I'll take it! Kisses!

ben:

You are seethingly voluptuous!

tara:

we are, after all, just robots

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This page contains a single entry from the blog posted on January 16, 2005 2:36 PM.

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