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Did I mention just how much I like pasta? I fucking love it. 

I love eating it, I love making it, I love dreaming about it. And I'm not even Italian. I think.

Bolognese, Carbonara, Frutti di Mare, Boscaiola... You name it. I got it and no one does it better than me.

 

I am the pasta mastah. Guess what's cooking now.

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Here's another golden nugget if you can't find your way out of thought:

 

Deep breath, as deep as you can. Hold the breath. Send the oxygen down into your lower belly. 

 

Hold. Nearly pass out in - between. Receive the "love shower". "DMT release", even.

 

Release. Exhale. All the way. You are here now. Quite a bit more than before, it seems.

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My girlfriend is bisexual. I am not. 

I've got no issues with anyone loving or boning anyone...

But as soon as someone tries to make me question my own sexuality, or God forbid tries forcing me into something...

Yeah, we're gonna have a problem.

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Incarceration of personality is the sad inception of self - denial

 

If you renounce, deny and forget your own humanity... you've got a long way to go.

Everything that you transcend or throw away at one point, becomes something you reclaim and reunite with at another.

 

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