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June 10, 2001
Miles Davis, "Kind of Blue"

…and with those 5 words, my pen just exploded all over my hands, this eruption of black that I promptly smeared on the white walls while groping for a lightswitch. Fuck. I can't find Misty tonight, but then, she's the one of the three that likes to sleep in unusual places. Wishing for profundity this evening & the only conclusion found so far is that ink is sticky as it dries, and spreads. Profundity is probably overrated; and besides, this heart needs a break. These capsules can choke if they go down the wrong way.