Epistemysics

Some theatre each day keeps the doctor away…

Another Day, Another Desert

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I am bereft, dear reader; my muse has been drained, dessicated, and blown to the winds; its ashes fly first class while the soul, its anchor, drags the ungiving earth.

That is, there ain’t much to talk about tonight.

Oh, yes – the power’s back on.  Huzzah!  I had just settled down to make a good dent in the Kafka, and I got half a page into it when lo and behold the house began abeeping and achirping with the chorus of electric veins pumping once more.

251/whatever.  (I told you.)

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Written by epistemysics

November 27, 2013 at 2:20 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

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