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| E R I K D A V I S | ||||
Meditations on the Indranet |
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Standing at the door of his crumbling shack, Lance Daybreak looked kind of like I'd expected him to look, which was something of a disappointment. Long blondish-brown hair, bushy beard, drawstring pants, bare feet. He wore a rave t-shirt emblazoned with an Alien Workshop design, and a Star Trek medallion dangled around his neck. I don't know where you live, dear reader, but out here in the goofball crucible of California, techno-hippies like this are a familiar breed.
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