sometimes I make sense. this is not one of those times.

you know that place your brain goes when you're almost done with a story and you have one part and maybe five hundred words left to write; the blank dragging place that feels like drugged sleep, and staring at the screen feels like the end of being up for forty-eight hours straight, and then you realize that's because you *have* been up that long, but you still can't make yourself shut down the computer and go pass out?

um. yeah.

...hi. I think I still have a brain. somewhere.