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  <title>cassetteribbon</title>
  <subtitle>cassetteribbon</subtitle>
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  <updated>2006-02-22T02:54:17Z</updated>
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    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:cassetteribbon:3811</id>
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    <title>cassetteribbon @ 2006-02-21T21:34:00</title>
    <published>2006-02-22T02:49:15Z</published>
    <updated>2006-02-22T02:54:17Z</updated>
    <content type="html">god yr speckled blossom perfume-ridden wingtip fingers contrast a limp supine body and a voice that carries through open doors &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and a heart that bends and breaks with the heat escaping from its open sores&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yelling&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"all I ever wanted was a girl that would leave me alone!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(but would really hold you through the suffering springtime&lt;br /&gt;acidic rain, &lt;br /&gt;washing her feet and &lt;br /&gt;combing her mane,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt; lighting up her scalp like a fucking bullet train." &lt;/b&gt;)</content>
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    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:cassetteribbon:1225</id>
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    <title>cassetteribbon @ 2005-06-27T00:42:00</title>
    <published>2005-06-27T04:57:24Z</published>
    <updated>2005-06-27T04:57:24Z</updated>
    <content type="html">I.crying in the car park. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The british drive on the left, and the americans on the right, but it doesn't matter which you prefer. It is this dotted line that i am worrying about, this barrier that seems to deter every articulate word that you and i have ever learned from leaving our mouths, every sentence structure that critics would commend. There really is no use in keeping secrets; our amateur conversations could very well be constituted as lies, and serve their purpose - to keep us from saying what we really mean. The boy sitting next to me never knows what to say, keeps quiet in his cordoroys. I know that he wishes more than anything that we could make this more than it really is; two people who have different needs in the way of communication groping and grabbing for any mutual language. I wish that he would speak, and he wishes that I'd quit speaking so fast, and we both wish that our bodies were enough to keep one another occupied. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But for now I'm crying (bawling) in the carpark, and he fiddles with the radio, and we both pray for a song that we both recognize.</content>
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    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:cassetteribbon:1008</id>
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    <title>cassetteribbon @ 2005-06-26T11:19:00</title>
    <published>2005-06-26T15:21:32Z</published>
    <updated>2005-06-26T15:21:32Z</updated>
    <content type="html">I have another livejournal, somewhere off in livejournal land. But I wanted to create one in which I'm being myself. Not writing just to write, but writing because it is inside of me and ready to take hold of the world. I am a poet, after all. An artist. A scholar. I am anything that I want to be. And this is the place for me to express that.</content>
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    <title>cassetteribbon @ 2005-06-26T10:39:00</title>
    <published>2005-06-26T14:39:54Z</published>
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    <content type="html">alksjdflaksjdflkasjdflkajsdlkfjaslkjdfthisi is a atekjstlkja;sljdf;alksjdf;lkjokawjeflkjasdlkfjas</content>
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    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:cassetteribbon:399</id>
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    <title>cassetteribbon @ 2005-06-26T00:53:00</title>
    <published>2005-06-26T04:53:13Z</published>
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