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when the levee breaks

So after a year of hard work, intelligence, and pure man power, all that separates New Orleans from another devastating natural disaster is a little brick wall. I can’t build anything. I have trouble with Ikea furniture. I’ve only recently started cooking and i am incapable of fixing cars. What i mean to say is, I can’t build a giant dome or a taller wall or think of a better way to help the people of this city. But I do have an ugly confession Continue reading when the levee breaks

Morning

The nIke 1/2 Marathon is coming up on Sunday at 7am and I am number 229. There was an option to add art onto the shirt. Whether it be “Scooter” or “DAD” or “MOM” or “I smoke cigarettes,” I chose to leave my t-shirt blank seeing as I’m gonna take it off at mile 3 anyway, to start working on my tan. I’ll wear SPF 15 from Panama Jack, surrounding myself in the aroma of coconut. All the freaky jogger girls are gonna want to stay near me. So i tell my friends who ask, “how are we gonna find you among 10,000 runners?” I’ll be the one around mile 8 without pants.

Elan Zafir’s misemployment of the run-on sentence