I’ve spoken to Elon Musk in 2005, curious about my Traumatic Brain Injury!

I read his name on Fortune.com and looked him up on Facebook, talking to him online and on the phone!

To pick up a pen- in the pin, within, my heart for the Graduates of Norte Dame Catholic School, I want to swim in a heated pool, With warm water titter-tatter the CIA is hearing a lot of Syrian “chatter” with a see-saw swing I feel the vim to create, so — LINE ‘EM UP BATTER! — with eggs of yeast, in this Feast, of plump baked bread, I want a Solaris computer, instead, having reached to the reaches of Trans-Atlantic Beaches bouncing up and down with my Facebook-administrators uncomfortably with frowns — FACEBOOK YOU’RE GOING DOWN to the up-town girls of the inner-city world, of these girls, and some guys, the “John’s” taking princes for pawns, all along, along the twisty tracks of http://www.twistys.com taking to long, to load, I just shot MINE, with these fucks hacking my computer when I WANT THEM DEAD! Heads blown off, with the proverbial gloves a’ coming off at the hour when I feel such power, and eloquence with deep throat sirens, sounding, enduring the pounding, in private places, we both make faces- expressing my love for you, sweetie boo, I see you, I know you’re not far, and taking it, there, to far- to a bar with liquor served, a dish for Tricia and Felicia at the Deli that oh woo-nelly the bathroom is so STINKY, I smell salty urine when I excurge my liquids NEVER BEER the alcohol and its effects, they instill — with an Insulin pen — the asymptomatic atrocities of the URBAN (dark) city of Harlem where I’ve been, and staying with Dana we peruse the “urban” avenues, on a cruise, through the Caribbean, again, and again, then GONE, but to a Luxury suite with a busty BLONDE, and you better believe my Sirius radio is ON, “Mute” as in ka-poot!

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