866. Tuesdaze

This is one of those nights where the brain is fuzzed over and coated in a thin non-cunductive slime. I spent forty minutes staring at the ruins of a short story and slipping in and out of consciousness. All of this after my evening cup of Starbucks Verona. A good friend mentioned that she and her husband went all in for an espresso machine. I ought to follow that path and totally eliminate the need for coffee shops. Of course, then I wouldn’t be able to enjoy that atmosphere.

I am watching a garbled version of NBC’s Revolution and wishing I was watching the Avengers. Sci-fi superfolk beats a weakly strained apocalypse any day. As I watch I am wishing that the fog would lift and I would be able to think long enough to make this post worthwhile.

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