Ever feel like you're simply meant to be wholed up alone in a room doing what eventually becomes endless cycles of code that make sense to very few others besides yourself
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kinda, but I just paint things on my ceiling in the dark for hours on end before obsessing over art books till the sun comes up...yepah... sound similar? Dali induces dreams of the most whacked out, I argued in the desert with a naked guy with drawers in his head which were slamming every few seconds for what seemed for hours before the face of war ate us both up...BOTH, MIKE, BOTH!
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