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Drunk Lang

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  • Dear Karen,

    If you’re reading this it means I actually worked up the courage to mail it, so good for me. You don’t know me very well, but if you get me started I have a tendency to go on and on about how hard the writing is for me. But this, this is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to write.
    There’s no easy way to say this so I’ll just say it, I met someone. It was an accident, I wasn’t looking for it, I wasn’t on the make—it was a perfect storm. She said one thing, I said another. Next thing I knew, I wanted to spend the rest of my life in the middle of that conversation. Now there’s this feeling in my gut: She might be the one.

    She’s completely nuts, in a way that makes me smile—highly neurotic, a great deal of maintenance required. She is you, Karen. That’s the good news. The bad is that I don’t know how to be with you right now, and that scares the **** out of me. Because if I am not with you right now, I have this feeling we will get lost out there. It’s a big, bad world full of twists and turns, and people have a way of blinking and missing the moment—the moment that could’ve changed everything. I don’t know what’s going on with us, and I can’t tell you why you should waste a leap of faith on the likes of me. But damn you smell good, like home. And you make excellent coffee; that’s got to count for something, right?

    Call me.

    Unfaithfully Yours.

    Comment


    • In order to make Rudyo happy, all my books went in to the trash today.

      I don't have enough time to counterfit any more books.

      Fuck you Rudyo.

      Comment


      • Originally posted by Virgil Caine View Post
        In order to make Rudyo happy, all my books went in to the trash today.

        I don't have enough time to counterfit any more books.

        Fuck you Rudyo.


        Copyrights protected, you're the hero this city needs.

        My buddy spiled a 40 ounce of OE all INSIDE the 8th he was sold , I got enough bud where I just gave him a new one, but I made him beg for it.

        Comment


        • Wuddup wuddup

          Comment


          • “To my son, the writer. Something I never said too much: I love you. My father never said it much, either. And I thought I’d be different, but I guess I’m not. I tried, but somewhere along the line, you slip back into what you know, and I’m sorry about that. And I’m sorry we haven’t talked in a while because I miss you. You’re a good kid and a funny kid. And you’re my only son.

            I said I never read your books, but I lied. I read them all. I just didn’t know how to talk about them with you. I didn’t like the fathers in them. I know you writers take liberties, but I was afraid that maybe you didn’t take any at all. But the thing is boys become men, and men become husbands and fathers, and we do the best we can. You’re doing the best you can. You’ve done good. Your books will be in libraries long after we’re both gone, and this is important.

            More important is how you treat your family. I wasn’t a perfect husband, but I loved your mother, and I’m glad we spent our lives together. And I’m here if you need me. That’s all I wanted to say.

            Love, your old man.

            P.S. I saw a preview of your movie the other night. It looks like a piece of ****, maybe you were right"

            Comment


            • Gotta go to Steins today. Drinking some beerz.

              Comment


              • BUMP.



                My alarm clock at anywhere from 1AM to 3AM everyday.

                Comment


                • On da mothafuckin drank.

                  Comment


                  • http://swordandscale.com/sword-and-scale-episode-62/

                    Comment


                    • Originally posted by Beercules View Post
                      “To my son, the writer. Something I never said too much: I love you. My father never said it much, either. And I thought I’d be different, but I guess I’m not. I tried, but somewhere along the line, you slip back into what you know, and I’m sorry about that. And I’m sorry we haven’t talked in a while because I miss you. You’re a good kid and a funny kid. And you’re my only son.

                      I said I never read your books, but I lied. I read them all. I just didn’t know how to talk about them with you. I didn’t like the fathers in them. I know you writers take liberties, but I was afraid that maybe you didn’t take any at all. But the thing is boys become men, and men become husbands and fathers, and we do the best we can. You’re doing the best you can. You’ve done good. Your books will be in libraries long after we’re both gone, and this is important.

                      More important is how you treat your family. I wasn’t a perfect husband, but I loved your mother, and I’m glad we spent our lives together. And I’m here if you need me. That’s all I wanted to say.

                      Love, your old man.

                      P.S. I saw a preview of your movie the other night. It looks like a piece of ****, maybe you were right"
                      Damn what movie is this from?

                      Comment

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