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The travails of a sore and scratchy throat. written by Allen Ginsburg.

It's where I'm at, and I wouldn't scoff at the suggestion that it was partially self inflicted, to pull an intangible wool over my eyes about the truth of the situation in Central Jersey. Or maybe I wish that. Or maybe I don't even care. No, I care. A good way to know if something matters to me is to gauge how often it appears in my dreams, and to what degree. And is it a lucid dream or a passing frenata?

There will be more.