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We live in a beautiful world

When I listen to Coldplay I think of England. I feel like I'm in England, the mist, the rain, the chill. I can't help it. I go there. I hope that I'll get to go back in the next year. I also hope that I get to go to New York City. And maybe Amsterdam. It would be great to see all these far off places before they burn to the ground, or sell all their national monuments to GE or Virgin or the highest bidder, or just throw them into a big bonfire for heat, since the gas is off.

We live in a beautiful world. Just keep telling yourself that. We live in a beautiful world.

I've started a new novel. Already, it languishes. I have ideas and thoughts and feelings about this, which I won't go into here. My youngest son gets bigger everyday, and he tells me stories. One went something like this: Once upon a time there was an apple in a tree and he played and he couldn't get out.

The end. I gotta admit, I didn't see the surprise dark turn it took at the end.

We live in a beautiful world.

My days are surprisingly varied. They have the same rhythm, but the pacing is different, and the events are different, like endless remixes of the same song done by totally different artists. One day the song is mixed by a dub step DJ with a background in salsa and bossa nova. The next day it's Deftones and Max Richter duking it out over some Spaghetti-Oh's. I didn't bargain for this, but then who does?

We live in a beautiful world. Yeah, we do and we do.

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