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"The Bunk don't swim."

Well, here I am. But there's nothing to be said for today, except that it rained and it rained and it rained, just like in Chapter 9 of Winnie-the-Pooh. You know, in which Piglet is entirely surrounded by water. Cold, drenching rain. November.

And I feel like shit again tonight. The headache's back. Pain and rain. There's a little poem, so don't say I didn't write anything today.

Later,
CRK




3:37 p.m.