HOT DICKS SO BIG
Today is the 4th day, the longest duration since 2002, the year I moved to New York, that I’ve ever gone without ingesting a drop of coffee. Not a drop.
Because on September 6th 2015, an otherwise wonderfully uneventful morning, my coffee-stash abruptly ran out on me without a warning as if it was premeditated, leaving me in a cold-turkey caffeine withdrawal that I’m frankly too sleepy to wrestle. Right of course, I don’t live in a no-man’s land. There’s a convenience store downstair just 3 minutes of walking from where my ass sits, ready to supply me lacking but coffee-like substances that will ease the cold sweats and wobbling mind. But more to my own surprise than anything else, I didn’t go. In the passing 96 hours of brain-paralysis, waiting for my online coffee shipment which hasn’t came yet, I just stayed inside my bunker chewing and spitting out green tea-leaves, mainly trying to open my eyes without much success. Shit, I can’t even open them now. Did you know you can type with your eyes closed? Uh Whast was thsr?
This episode told me something about myself. You know I would never sell my sloth short of its worth, God bless its noble soul, but apparently I have underestimated it all this time. Apparently, I’m even lazier than the human instinct to stay lucid. Su[er HumN, RElly.