I wish there was some way of quantifying how much of my outlook on life has been directly influenced by heavy metal. Perhaps once neuroscience has reached some amazing level of complexity I can have Matt perform an über-brainscan that'll satisfy my thirst for self-knowledge. Then my life will become a Voivod song.
Here's to the several cups of Czar Nicholas II Premium Nostalgia Tea I imbibed throughout the day. Without you, o liquid memorial to horrific, backward autocracy, I would have succumbed to alcohol-induced naps long ago, but instead I wrote a lot.
And now, dear reader, I'm off to the Dreamlands... which, as far as I can tell, have been gentrified to all hell since the days of HPL. Fuck the bourgeoisie and their demand for convenience over aesthetics and meaning.
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