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The only thing that seems to bring me any joy is talking. Speaking and being heard. But I can’t make that my life, because no one wants to listen to a person who only wants to talk. I can’t write a memoir about writing a memoir because the only memoirs that get read are the ones not talking about talking. But that’s just me; that’s what I like to do.

That’s what I enjoy, this, what I’m doing right now.

As long as I have a mouth, I’m satisfied by eating my own words.

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