It Happened in Iowa: Part IV

The following is entitled great sentences, however, it is little more than a manic compilation of drug fueled nonsense scribbled across a yellow legal pad. I have done my best to transcribe the mania below. Typically, when reading a work we read it for the content. That is not the case with this piece while the content is at times thought provoking, the primary reason for reading it is not to make sense of it, but rather to experience the state of mind I was in. It is for this reason that I have not polished the piece, but left it in a state of disjointed syntax insanity.

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It Happened in Iowa: Part III

It Happened in Iowa: Part III

At his point in my life I knew I was a degenerate, but I was not, a bad ass. I idolized the idea of being a degenerate. I wanted to embrace it so badly. I wanted to be a crazy druggy with crazy stories. I wanted to run from the police and set things ablaze. Yet, I played dungeons and dragons and said, ‘ablaze’ as opposed to ‘on fire.’ I remember one time when a cable guy was hooking up my modem and asked if I had a surge protector. I handed it to the pot bellied tech and said, “I foresaw such a need arising.” He look at me like I was the world’s most monumentally pretentious a-hole. I don’t mean the kind of rebel-without-a-cause-dunk-my-hairy-sack-in-your-beer-for-a-laugh kind of ass. No, his looked clearly said you-god-damn-hipster-a-hole. I badly wanted to be the love child of Ari Shaffir and Opie Winston, but in reality I was more like a depressed stoner Kevin Arnold, Cory Matthews hybrid. Despite my best efforts, I was only a part-time degen, and I knew it.

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