.crawl spaces.

I’m down here in the crawl space.  I’m writing this to get my mind off the smell of rotting rat carcasses that are festering in a fetid funk (the only good funk, is the musical kind) all around me.  it seems like this is the best place that i can get some real thinking done.  it is “saint patricks day” and i am certain that most of the humanoid population is out right now (20:00 hours) imbibing massive amounts of the fermented waste products of yeast (and the like).  not that there is any problem with enjoying an “adult beverage” from time to time, but today (among others) is one that i would rather not take part in the public displays of the “common mans” barbaric drinking bouts (and all the things that go along with them).  sans the few exceptions to the rule (kerouac, fitzgerald, and hemingway come to mind), no great man ever made an impression on this world while in the throes of an alcoholic stupor.  not that i wouldn’t mind going out and having a few drinks on such an occasion…  i am just a little leery of having to deal with all the treachery and despair that goes along with having to witness a bunch of imbeciles make fools out of themselves.  i guess down here among the rats is the best place for me to make friends with my thoughts right now…

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