My old spot no longer exists, years of spills and goodness knows what has lead the wise folks of Library management to change the desks and add linoleum under all of them. So know I sit on a chair just about as uncomfortable as mine at home, however mine at home doesn't permit me to put my legs under the desk... I have no TV, no cleaning or laundry to distract me - just me and this lovely laptop and the occasional ding of the elevator muffled through my head phones. Oddly enough I like the smell of the library, the stale sweet death and decay smell that comes when you combine 70's era carpet, endless volumes of un-used journals, no windows and fear, the insidious smell of the fear. The 6th floor journal peeps are the ones who have this smell as part of their everyday aura - it is them, their need to push forward, that or that's just an engineer sitting behind me trying to sleep that I'm smelling. Anyways I'm off to tip tap type out my outline which I in detail constructed at 12am and most recently on the bus (while avoiding being too obvious in my attempt to see want the 20 something cutie across from me was reading). I think in that statement I just realized why I am single - I care more about books than I do about man meat, and is that really so bad, is it? Well since I have to ask for your permission, I believe it likely is, but anyways - music as there always needs to be music.
I initially had Cathy Nguyen's version, but I love the beat in this version, now this is what you get hyped to type to:
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