This week - alot of death this week.
Students, teachers, and fathers dying.
I wish I could fabricate this,
but it is real.
And I'm used to it. I have no problems with death.
I know when I die,
I'll die for good, I'll die for sure;
My death will be pure.
I love Christmas. The Charlie Brown Christmas soundtrack is perfection. Music seems livliest during Christmas time.
But Christmas has been disoriented this last half-decade, so this year I will escape north. The weather is so blasted unpredictable; the humidity (as I've often griped about) screws everything up all year long.
The fog before half past eight was a dastardly discomfort. I mean I like fog, but not when I just wanna get home before bedtime to a piece of chicken. Damn, man.
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