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Today I had my first Hi-Lite in a while; no one really seems to carry them in America. That Lotte Black Black gun that's supposed to keep you awake for hours, sure, but not Hi-Lites, each of which is rolled with 1.8 mg nicotine and 17 mg tar. The last pack had been out of the machine in the lobby of the Hotel Edmont—cruel, like many Japanese hotel lobbies are, with their wide open spaces giving no indication of the warrens that await you above. Since then Hi-Lites have acquired dire health warnings that fill up half the wrapper.

God knows what G13's Parliaments must look like now. He would surely need one after reading "Horibe Masashi, Japanese Martial Arts—Hakukotsu style founder/master" in the back of Vol. 05, speculating that "Attacking the groins would be sure to work," before going into detail that is literally quite excruciating: "I have a friend who lost his testicles in a fight. His life was saved, but his appearance has changed, and he is a calm, docile, completely different person. So the testicles are absolutely necessary for a man to live."

I've just been staying at home waiting for something to happen. I just don't have much to say right now, but so it goes. I've basically been doing nothing to speak of, but shrug. Today was a loss. I don't care. That's how it is.

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