When staying up, I think the first things to go are the censors to good taste. Yesterday I chose not to sleep and well.. what happened was horrid stream of consciousness writing on my notebook (like, real honest to goodness paper notebook). Also couplets so cheesy you can taste the cheddar.

I choose not to censor/edit this for your enjoyment/cause I'm a dumbass. Think of this as lessons in the consequences of not sleeping.

People might call me smart but I'm not sure myself. For example here I am alone, dumbstruck with phone open, unable to articulate a word. An ashtray with a dead cigarette, not mine but I can't help inhaling the third hand smoke loving how dead embers smell when they interlock in embrace with the sweet armoas of the tea that stews before me. A red ant, big as anything dances across the table

The same seat has been occupied now by two women of oncommon beauty. I don't long for them but I do yearn for a return to the days when their stories would flash full fomed in my mind. It would take away my own fear of telling my own story as I delve into the deep fissures of their story revelling in their flaws instead of wallowing in my own

Sometimes I feel the story is not worth the telling

On second thought, thats probably a good place to stop the blather. I want to get a good post together chronicling the PyWeek game soon. Here's the hilariously cheesy not-quite-couplet:

Oh please let this be but drunken revelry

For if my heart beats not with your yours by the morn

My eternal grief shall be aborn

FFS, I really need to write that PyWeek post to redeem myself of this cheese factory now.