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A man who cannot choose ceases to be a man.
The next morning I woke up at oh eight oh oh hours, my brothers, and as I still felt shagged and fagged and fashed and bashed and my glazzies were stuck together real horrorshow with sleepglue, I thought I would not go to school.
One thing I could never stand was to see a filthy, dirty old drunkie, howling away at the filthy songs of his fathers and going blurp blurp in between as it might be a filthy old orchestra in his stinking, rotten guts. I could never stand to see anyone like that, whatever his age might be, but more especially when he was real old like this one was.
It's funny how the colors of the real world only seem really real when you viddy them on the screen.
It had been a wonderful evening and what I needed now, to give it the perfect ending, was a little of the Ludwig Van.