TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations & other curiosities :: profile 03.27.01 What is that? I love foreign languages! At a party, Joe! Pow! Pow! and I converse in gibberish, the language of fools and madmen and tipsy kids. We make nonsense . . . and yet somehow it makes sense to Girl. And why not? It's exotic. It's a foreign language. Teach me a few phrases. (Obviously, Joe, we're not from around here.) At the Other Change of Hobbit, he asks, Where are you from? Blinking, I stammer, Berkeley. (I mean, I live here.) I'm surprised! You speak with an accent so I thought you had to be--
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