Where's the beef?

Here's a theory - you can't make the lack of new adventure(s) plus the dwindled memories add up to gonzo writing unless you have talent. Add a new virus and you're catatonic word-wise. That should be compelling to find another outlet for thought preservation and pattern development.

So to avoid digital-footprint dead space, we cook-up a version of can't face up to the past with anything less than perfection and rollout the circular phraseology. It serves as self-therapy in lieu of friend flybys and fills in the spaces on this incredible tour d'amour.

That hand o'mine coupled with the universe = less than what mostly matters - squeezing the last drop from everyday. The trend of voluntary home occupation is maintaining secretionary outcomes.