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Sweet Child O’ Mine

I go running when I can’t think of my next move. Usually this means my next move in a writing situation. Though sometimes it applies to my big old hairy life in general.

Today I ran for an hour, double the time of my usual outing.

And all I got was this thought, at the very end, prompted by the song that made Guns N’ Roses famous:

If you’ve never made out with a boy with a long-ass curly mullet while sitting on a broken barbecue grill in some stranger’s dark backyard on a wet autumn evening after stepping out of a raging keg party and game of pfeffer to smoke cigarettes while the stereo blared this song, then, shit, man. There ain’t nothing for it.

2 Comments

  • Carrie on Oct 02, 2011 Reply

    I know! You’d think 4+ miles would yield something with more depth, but no. I return to my sleazy youth once again.

  • Holly on Oct 01, 2011 Reply

    Wha????

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