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        <title>deviantART: by:snarfmaster</title>
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        <pubDate>Wed, 09 Dec 2009 14:39:01 PST</pubDate>        
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                <title>hello!</title>
                <link>http://snarfmaster.deviantart.com/journal/12052655/</link>
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                <pubDate>Sun, 04 Mar 2007 10:57:23 PST</pubDate>
                
                <description><![CDATA[ oh wow, i have not been here in forever!  i don't do much art anymore, mostly just writing in real journals every once in awhile.  i had forgotten all the things i liked about this website, perhaps i need some more art in my life! this account seems so old and it's very weird to look back to what i used to be.<br /><br /> ]]></description>
                <author>~snarfmaster</author>
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          <item>
                <title>no questions please</title>
                <link>http://snarfmaster.deviantart.com/journal/6181039/</link>
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                <pubDate>Tue, 09 Aug 2005 17:53:33 PDT</pubDate>
                
                <description><![CDATA[ I had a red backpack, one of my dad's oldies, maybe from the 70s.  It was rather flimsy and couldn't hold much at all, but when I wore it it felt like an extension of my body.  So so comfortable, like home and like camp.  But it kept breaking, busting at the seams, constantly repaired with safety pins.  One day the zipper pretty much just fell off.  The black sweater, too, with the front pockets I wore holes in the sleeves and in the fronts of the pocket, so my thumbs poked through.  It's just unsightly now I guess.  And it hurts to know people are red backpacks and black sweaters.  You love it and it feels as nautral as your skin and your fingers.  I have a backpack but this time the backpack has me too.  And our bond is so close to breaking, hastily patched together with safety pins and amateur uneven stitches sewn too far apart.  And I do like this man, even more so that I know he's three weeks from busting open at the seams.  I do like being with people who feel like socks, and flipflops, molding to my feet, but those are just cotton, rubber.  And it makes me so so sad to think relationships are just cotton fibers, some more tightly woven than others, but so so easily hacked apart by gleaming blades. ]]></description>
                <author>~snarfmaster</author>
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                <title>Devious Journal Entry</title>
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                <pubDate>Sun, 10 Apr 2005 18:24:01 PDT</pubDate>
                
                <description><![CDATA[ i havent been in an a photography  painting drawing mood lately<br />
maybe too selfconscious? or just no  inspiration<br />
word art is different though<br />
i want to write something good besides  essays<br />
but most of all i just want to write ]]></description>
                <author>~snarfmaster</author>
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                <title>Devious Journal Entry</title>
                <link>http://snarfmaster.deviantart.com/journal/3879076/</link>
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                <pubDate>Sat, 20 Nov 2004 14:08:18 PST</pubDate>
                
                <description><![CDATA[ restless restless restless<br />
i want to go on a date and hold hands  and dance dance dance<br />
i'm going crazy waiting<br />
!! ]]></description>
                <author>~snarfmaster</author>
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                <title>Devious Journal Entry</title>
                <link>http://snarfmaster.deviantart.com/journal/1906064/</link>
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                <pubDate>Wed, 25 Feb 2004 18:42:14 PST</pubDate>
                
                <description><![CDATA[ i finished 'death of a salesman' by  arthur miller<br />
i knew willy loman commits suicide at  the end and i knew that everyone would  go crazy at the end<br />
i was not disappointed<br />
it gave me that feeling, that terrible  feeling<br />
i don't know how to describe it<br />
how you feel when something horrible  happens and someone's lost control<br />
like that moment when the car's  spinning and you know you're going to  hit the tree<br />
sometimes it scares me that i love that  out of control feeling<br />
but i do<br />
i do love it ]]></description>
                <author>~snarfmaster</author>
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