In the River of Watered-down Oatmeal
In the River of Watered-down Oatmeal
didn’t correct him at the time. How could I? We were barely friends. It was a message overheard, like some piece of rotten seaweed floating in the river of his discontent, and I wasn’t about to fish it out then kindly request he stop telling lies. And was it even a lie? Anything can be a lie if it diverts from your idea of truth. Here’s (basically) what was said: I’ll never write for a brand…
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