I tire of mammoth emotion----the painful lows for sweeping me to despair and melancholy, and the exquisite highs for ruining me for the ordinary. I would stay in the broad, happy expanses of the everyday but for the plague of the deeply felt.
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You couldn't see the Nuns post? Well it was short. This was the gist of it: So I live across the street from a convent. The walls are really high -- a friend of mine scaled one the other day, said there's lots of bushes on the other side. My dad used to live 4 blocks from here, and all growing up he would tell us it was a nudist colony (hence the walls). Every day there is a bell that goes off. I'm not sure what it's for, but my theory is that it signals the start of the daily nudie jog. How fun would that be?
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