"I felt like crying but nothing came out. it was just a sort of sad sickness, sick sad, when you can't feel any worse. I think you know it. I think everybody knows it now and then. but I think I have known it pretty often, too often."
— Charles Bukowski (Tales of Ordinary Madness)
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Heat is my enemy. Las Vegas has a nasty hot breath that murders and cooks. Yay for Vegas summers... Sarcasm implied. Where is my ocean? my sea??
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