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You would think that with the abuse of everyday living, I would be be smarter and not self-abuse myself with birthday hi-jinx and Lit Cafe Poetry Nite extremism, especially this time of year, every year. I always get the message too late that no matter how my head feels, how much my stomach is quesy, it is nothing compared to the heaviness of my heart on 9/11.
Again, I remember my lost friends, Glen Wall and Dennis Buckley, dear chums of my youth, companions during difficult adolescent years, teammates, and drinking buddies. I toast your memory and promise to to be better to myself and others in the coming year.
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