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March 21, 2011
Somewhere there's a lost clutch of time begotten of more than mere forgetfulness, somehow drafted to a bead of mind put out of mind out of reach but well within the muscle of action fitted against what most would believe to be a lie. That's the clincher, since coming of the age well past misunderstanding, I've taken upon myself the arduous task of reconfiguring my compulsive tendency to exert influence on the less fortunate. So, I need to rear back a bit, take stock of my true ambition lurking beneath ambition and set the proper gears back in correct motion.