32 Hours

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I went to work last night, and sat down to start writing. I worked for a half hour before I had to get up and do my "job." Indistinguishable from most other nights, other than that I had been awake for 25 hours at that time.

I wrote 1,600 words before it was 4 AM and I realized that I could ad-lib lyrics to Winter Wonderland on the fly. I remember some of them

There's a pit, it is burning
There's a spit, flesh's a turning
The smell burns the air
And singes your hair,
Whisping through a waking of the damned

Among the graves, is a fire
Families burn, on the pyre
The ash and the flesh
Is chocking your breath
Trying to keep aloft a pile of sand

I realized that I could do the same thing with Tom Jones songs, none of which I can print here. Yeah, things got dark. The ability went away after ten hours of sleep.

Then I got up and reread what I had written, found the tone was all wrong and nothing made sense and deleted it all. Some sentences from hour 27 were worth keeping, but the rest is mishandled garbage.

The lesson here is that pharmacy I use is closed on holidays.

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They say...

Daphne Xu's picture

... the past tense of "think" is "thunk" at 3:00 in the morning.

-- Daphne Xu