

The New JournalismThe Sky Remains the Same as EverThe New Journalism
My eyes snapped open to the harsh cacophony of my modern-traditional alarm clock, it’s bells flailing wildly, saying in it’s obnoxiously high-pitched voice, “Get up you lazy bum.” “Shit… fuck…” was my response. I scrambled out of bed and turned the devil’s midwife off, as it had become affectionately known. Noon. Had I really slept that long? More importantly, than that, why? As I mused over these quandaries, the memory of the previous night began to come back, assaulting me with auditory reminders, creating a ringing inside my very own head. I needed to sit down. I s
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She said, "My sails are flapping in the wind."
I said, "Can I use that in a song?"
She said, "I mean, 'The end begins.'"
I said, "I know, can I use that too?"
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"Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one."
-Albert Einstein
--
She said, "My sails are flapping in the wind."
I said, "Can I use that in a song?"
She said, "I mean, 'The end begins.'"
I said, "I know, can I use that too?"
--
"Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one."
-Albert Einstein
--
She said, "My sails are flapping in the wind."
I said, "Can I use that in a song?"
She said, "I mean, 'The end begins.'"
I said, "I know, can I use that too?"
--
She said, "My sails are flapping in the wind."
I said, "Can I use that in a song?"
She said, "I mean, 'The end begins.'"
I said, "I know, can I use that too?"
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