16 March, 2003 Axles Spin So 'Round And 'Round We... Go
I woke up with every bit of connective tissue from my shoulders down sore as fuck. Too much trailblazing, too soon. Covered with white cat hair, courtesy of the Speckled Tornado From Hell. No dishes in the sink. Thermometer at sixty. Clouds encroaching from the southeast. I need some scenery before I do one more constructive thing. This is as close to "play" as I get. With that in mind, I'm going to press "Play."
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