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Salad

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Originally from May 12, 2005:

There's something I've been meaning to say, but always forgot about for some reason (maybe because it's not that important). I was lying on the bed with Rose last night talking about something or other when I felt the need to admit something to another human being.

I don't like salad. In fact, I really can't stand salad, and I don't care who knows it.

We live in a bullshit salad culture where everyone just assumes that you want a green salad, Caesar salad, fancy salad with your meal. But I don't want any of that. I wish I could go to a restaurant and only pay for what I want. The main dish with no fucking salad. Because it's just a waste of the chef's time, a waste of food and a waste of my plate's real estate.

Rotten Soul

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I am rotting from the inside, but maybe I can reverse the process.

I don't want to die. I want to live. You have to die in order to bring forth life. Those who don't are regarded scornfully, as subhumans.

Conformity is the death of the soul, they say, and there are so many ways to conform that do not suit me. I conform enough already.

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