Reading the bound blackbook that I sent 'Charles' in 1968....the hundred pages, written on the IBM Selectric.....the pages began to fall from the volume...pages that had been scotch-taped over the more revealing pages, written before....now 'beneath'.....a representation of conscious repression.....with fading ink on decomposing paper......I remembered neither of the 'storylines' However, isn't this the definition of 'repression'? .......forgetting, then forgetting the forgotten? The brittle yellow tape, having released the 'underneath' from the ablative conjuring, masking the shame of confessional exploratory.....
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