Confetti and Pyrotechnics who gives a shit?
I have to write a five-paragraph about the nature of an art I'm not allowed to practice. How's that for irony?
This is where the real living happens, where actual lives are saved, right here in the digital medium, reinventing the wheel and scraping to our professors basest intellectual whims.
Ten pages on biodiversity in Spain, or a weekend at home with my computer full of tabs and a bass? Obviously the microbes have it.
Oh yeah, interviews are today. Here's hopping I can keep my cabinet position.
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