I'd like to drive from here to 19 theres in a row, where there is somewhere within thinking distance that "this is realistic", but then when that first there becomes here, I do it again. So this would be 19 distances that are the Raven brain equivalent of a stone's throw, which I guess would be 19 "as the raven thinks", which perhaps is close to as the crow flies, but probably not. Anyways, that's where I feel like driving today, preferably in a windbreaker track suit that was too ugly for even Sinbad in 1982. Not ugly in a bad way, but ugly in a wonderful way, that probably looks bad on me. Fuck it. I'm just breathing oxygen until I can't.
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