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You know that feeling, where you’re lying in bed with a head stuffed full of nastiness it doesn’t do to describe, doped-up on NyQuil and yet unable to sleep, and the thoughts are flickering through your simultaneously overly-insulated and jangly brain, and one happens past, and you think, “yeah, that’s it, that’s exactly right, that’s what I’ll write about tomorrow,” and you go to sleep, or at least what passes for sleep in the land of NyQuil, and then when you get up in the morning you remember having had the idea but other than that it’s just completely gone?

Um. Yeah.


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