The Gods of Nostalgia beam their smiles down on me this morning. Their power is great and overbearing, and despite all things the hidden presence makes it all better.
Despite the plugged ears. Despite the nocturnal mosquitoes. Despite the dry eyes and wet night shirts. Despite this past week's sickness and the medicine, the early nights and my tinkly phone alarm. Despite the CLB file. Despite having Vic hear me swear on video and give me miniature hell for it. Despite my double fast-food nights. Despite the drawing blocks. Despite stepping on this clotheshanger. Despite the sore throat, the phegmy yellow blobs and my public hoaaaaaarrgghggghking. Despite the smses. Despite mrt people. Despite the bad punctuation of this post, even. Despite it all...
I feels fantarstick!
Moreso than you, maybe.
Hidden nostalgic frequencies are a force sublime.
-Zan
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