Tell Me You Did Not Just Press B 12
You could look at this two ways: I'm either going to spend some money on beer, smokes, and late night pizza, winding up with a headache later the next day, or I'm going to go and shake it a bit, dancing to the likes of Rob Base and DJ EZ Rock, Prince, and The Cure and have a helluva good time doing so.
You decide.
I've got a touch of writer's block. That's news. Everything I start out writing, seems like gold, but by the end of it all, it's just tarnished shite on a mantle, so I hit delete. I've got a lot to write about too, but can't seem to get it out. I have had a headache for the past 3 days. Since deciding on going out tonight, it's instantly vanished, replaced by a bit of anticipation, a bit of of the jitters, and a mad rush for stylin' clothes.
Maybe tomorrow I'll write it all out. Then again, maybe not. You never know with the writing gods. But the demons that are leading me astray tonight are just as unpredictable.
Sometimes you just gotta go with the flow.
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