I've had too much coffee today.
So much so, I experienced a partial reversal of consumption's desired effect. That is, hyperactive impotence. Or, better yet, failure to realize potential energy. A stone atop Mount Fucking Everest. Restricted optimism. You know what I mean.
To make matters pickled in briny preoccupation, I started with one freshly-picked polaroid pitching two kids clasping a certificate on their wedding day, backs to the camera. Then, through a new window, I daydreamed, aided by a Wiki list of dead cities. Then, with shaky hands paging virtually through turn-of-the-century children's novels, I imaged innocent illustrations
into adult body art forms.
Not focusing, disregarding expected results and grown-up obligations, I wasted the entire day.
Tonight, at least, I will awake enough to enjoy a bardic performance cast at level 30. Alternately, I'll also be able to defend myself, should the sweet song irritate nearby clandestine orcish hordes.