i revel in the sheer craziness of life. And in the words of Jack Kerouac, the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time.
i smell of old books, rosin and wood.
i could be best described as: an irksome, maudlin person who will bore you to death.
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