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  • Writer's pictureChoo Choo

Funk in the key of blue

Due to scheduling snafus, skydiving never happened. Instead, I reached a new emotional nadir over the weekend. Darkness engulfed me in a way I hadn't thought possible. Like a cocktail of Poe/Emily Bronte/Sylvia Plath. Morbid and maudlin. Ick.

Out of the woods now. Sure, they're lovely, dark, deep. But promises and sleep make for strange bedfellows. Or something like that. Mixed metaphors FTW!

...There is a good chance that I am deprived of sleep and replete with caffeine.

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