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csm @ 20:29: Jauns gads, jauna dzīve, jauna identitāte
There are nights when this room is the only place I want to be. Yet I get up here and I'm an empty husk. I know I could raise hell and dance words on this screen if I got drunk but I have to pick up Linda's sister at the airport tomorrow afternoon. She's coming for a visit. She's changed her name from Robin to Jharra. As women get older, they change their names. Many do, I mean. Suppose a man did that? Can you see me phoning somebody: "Hey, Mike, this is Tulip." "Who?" "Tulip. Formerly Charles, but now Tulip. I will no longer answer to Charles." "Fuck you, Tulip." Mike hangs up...
© Charles Bukowski
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