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Swing it for me, DJ--

I HAVE LOST three or four blog entries by this point, stopped after three lines each because the inspiration wasn't there. Swallowed by the void, a lot like the two pitas and humous that I just wolfed down. Food is good. Garlic is good. My brain seems to only spit up nonsensical idiocies. Anyway, it's been a crazed weekend and a sane weekend, and we finished the film on Friday night. Well, we still have to fiddle with the closing credits and - gasp - burn the thing onto DVDs. Which sounds good. After that, we have to decide on something for the third and final film.

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This page contains a single entry from the blog posted on March 6, 2005 6:25 PM.

The previous post in this blog was "The sporting editors had also given me $300 in cash, most of which was already spent on extremely dangerous drugs. The trunk of the car looked like a mobile police narcotics lab." (Hunter S. Thompson).

The next post in this blog is "Why not just tell Mother her son was a whore?" (B. Rawluk).

Many more can be found on the main index page or by looking through the archives.

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