Sunday, May 26, 2019
Mad Professor
Last night at the Hideaway, the bass was so gooey it was sticking to the walls and glooping down like gel. I cut some off with my pen knife and brought it home in a jam jar.
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I wait patiently, with no urgency. I have been granted all the time there is. I do not try to make anything of what I see. I hold no expectation or assumption that I know anything at all.
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