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In by Wyatt on October 25, 2010 at 10:22 pm

I sit in this library, this bastion of studious solitude, and stare at notes. I bullet the points, I format the text, I mnemonic the concepts. But there’s a problem. Outside the library there is a rave. Hundreds if not thousands (or millions by the single sound of their collective screams) are freaking out and shaking booty. While I sit. Here.

I’m a starved desert wanderer who’s just chanced upon a vending machine resting idly atop a dune. I can see the cool drinks inside and can damn near taste them. But I haven’t a dollar.

The music wafts painfully.


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