Like, it's only the mystery of existence, and don't worry, I have devices. (But I do have to get up in the morning and go to the guillotine. Just warning you. Sorry.)
This is written just upon arising. That may be another reason. The stress, you know, of large sums of money. Yesterday was Many Forms Day, like going into the Army. We made tea with tea bags and tried not to laugh.
And finally, the words I long to hear spoken to him, given his predilection: You feel me, Cuz? You feel me?
Yes, I feel you, Cuz, she'll say. I feel you loud and clear.