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I carry a bag for my phone, wallet, keys,
Infinite Jest, pen and sketchbook. I prefer my jeans skinny and my shirts tight. What is the
Sartorialist view on bulges?
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Contact me if you’re interested in acquiring (for free, but I believe in donation) a copy of my ‘zine.
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The real, very true and wholesomely truthful seriousness of my situation is that I live at the dark end of an alley in what can safely be considered the only properly criminal part — being two streets and a dirty intersection where old ladies and young ladies and old men and young men all equally are assaulted consistently despite the seven cameras that guard the spot — of the city and that, consequentially, many people try to get into my house at various points during various nights without me asking them to actually do come in have a seat. Tragically true, also, is that you, as the clichés have it, get used to carrying a knife when you put out the garbage, but your armoured heart will still jump at the sound and sight of a rat the size of your forearm workings its way out of the other garbage bags and into your freshly delivered one. All of these things have a habit of making me feel bad about where I live, which is the likeliest way of putting it, and they do nothing to further my hopes about humanity ever leaving the troughs nature has put it in.
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Through an accident of both grotesque oversight and ridiculous carelessness, I have not been able to receive a single e-mail on any address at rbmntjs.nl. If you’ve tried to contact me there in the past eight months, now is your proper chance to be heard, finally. We apologise for the inconvenience.
(Yes, this includes people who want to buy prints of my photos or complain about my colour profiles.)