as day three of this nyquil-induced haze approaches and my likeness to gary busey's mug shot only increases,
ah, these and other of life's great mysteries swirl through my head. maybe because i'm sick and all gary busey looking that it seems paramount i figure this shit out. maybe it's the nyquil being practically liquid courage. (yeah.) who knows? but i have figured out one thing in a life of otherwise lost dreams and broken promises. i need to build a muthafreakin fort.
it came hard and it came sudden at 4 in the morning, this need to build. i felt it before, but never so intoxicated with decongestants.