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he ripped through the old yellowing morse code paper taped on with scotch tape,
leaving a hardened plastic like residue on the metal surface. 'I must be so vain..'
as he peered and smiled at his own reflection in the boy scout mirror. He was having
intense personal conversation when it occured to him that without the
document of such intense personal moments for later moments and later, generations
of hopeless admirers who suckle at these fascinating fantasies of
fame and longevity, it still pained him at moments to think that there will never
be a time when he will actually experience his glory, for his audience was growing
as rapidly as it takes to read this short passage. without a good control of vocabulary,
he was finding it more and more difficult to imagine such moments in
time.