Midnight Pub

Knock Knock

~gokhan

As I descended from the Dillinger Dirigible plane of existence, the bartender gazed at my latex wings made of 333 succubi each, and asked what block it was. I'd been drifting stateless since the Splurge, and each moment felt like a second from Marclay's The Clock.

Seriously though, what block is it?

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~kavehorvanya wrote:

i'd say writer's block but the Creative Endeavour is certainly Upon Us

~kavehorvanya wrote:

artist's block