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Droning on...and on...and
on...and on...and on... |
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Lies, Lies, and more damned
lies... |
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HAMISH DIXON'S DIARY |
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Tuesday, October 19, 2004
WAS IT ALL A DREAM?
It's hard to keep track of things any more. I'm sitting in the public library typing this, and I can sense people looking at me with suspicion, shuffling away when they catch a whiff or more of the heady aroma I emit. This is the first time I have been capable of sitting upright for weeks. Who am I? The only name I can remember is Hamish Dixon -- but that is not my real name. I can only remember that I wrote a blog about my life -- but it was not my real life. Now I can't remember any other name, and all I'm left with is this extraordinary creature whose life seems so distant from mine. I've been sleeping on the street, but that is becoming less comfortable now as the weather grows colder, and I suppose I'll have to find some shelter.
How long have I been doing this? Was I ever hospitalized and pumped full of drugs? Do I really own office buildings? Did my penis ever disappear? It seems to exist on a fairly satisfactory scale now, although it is hard to imagine anyone else being interested in it unless I can somehow find my way to a good scrub up. I wonder where the Maybach showroom is? I'll have to take a walk by some time and see if anything happens.
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and on...and on...and on...and on
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