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       I'm still going to succumb to this puckish self-deception: that: maybe I'm doing a little disturbance here
- the old bitter and inevitable reality wandering through the centuries - that if you crave and have something to
say: you have to make yourself a clown and a fool for the general public.  :But I am a clown! It's in me - I have
to show up myself and flaunt - even though a certain part of my ripped personality: finds it awkward.     :But at
least: the cap with little bells: I made myself - I don't have it from any rudimentary producer: who has in head:
a tiny calculator in the shape of his penis: and: not even from the nice good people: who actually just sincerely
want to watch: my incredible insolence: and my pride to point at myself: and: to put myself above the humble: and
the waiting THEIR - and of course based on that - my: well-deserved: and: inevitable fall to the very bottom.

       (I dedicate this bitter paragraph to the bold lady: which once: on the literal portal membrana:   compared
me to Iveta Bartošová - she wrote there: that: I formerly started well as she did: but then .. I forgot the name:
I'm sorry - maybe Barbora  - this is for you Barbie ↑)