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it wasn't really a good day - which shouldn't be a surprise, but it was We had a meeting arranged but I couldn't participate - my crotchetiness, which I would call "snarkiness" if that didn't hurt so much, made participation on my part impossible. He ran into the room, prepared, I know, for banter, but I floundered, as I'd floundered all day. All week, maybe - all month, all year. Maybe the past decade. I decided to play an entire set of songs that make me cry - indulge in a masochistic parade of Jason Molina and Sam Beam and Sara Lov and everyone else - it's not hard, really, making me cry - but right now I'd rather just turn on the electric blanket and get into bed. Maybe next week I'll get together a set of songs to bounce around to - probably a healthier endeavor. Then I won't be so sad and will be able to say hello while looking him in the eye.
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