23.08.05 - 4:03 p.m.

there is something somehow at once unnerving and disarming about seeing a friend's worst life experience played out over and over in song while the participants, the spectators of six years ago, three years ago, last spring, look on and get sad. you can't divorce yourself from it when you're in the middle, playing the accordion while everyone cries or tries not to and thinks about what he means -- the allusions and metaphors for her blonde hair and world travels, her chronic lateness and enormous laugh.

springing up by the hundreds per second
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the project museum

the revolution will be catalogued

this american life

the library of congress

i used to believe







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