Excellent cuddles for down time down town around the world settling for the textual and the voice record. Some people like me are so stubborn some people like me. Without fail I ask myself why are you excited when things aren’t good for all parties involved. Party night ends and we’re all convinced everyone hates our drunk versions. That’s when I slaunch off to long-distance world because someone hurting can’t be disappointed in my stupid loud bar voice or the content therein. After the excitement of being wanted deflates there’s a wave of confusion and frustration. Why can’t I help and be the savior of princess nerd, not that she needs it… not that we all don’t… Are we relegated to the words of self-drama therapy — a pulsing stream of rapid prose poems that never runs dry? Do we always sit here and think of all the histories we never had?