12/24/2019
Ooooo, I'm coming to you from beyond the grave: a ghost of Christmas past. All the sounds, mice, and beer-soaked floors have been swallowed up into the ether, this hole all that remains of lives lived inside of me. There's legend that if you walk by this spot at the right hour of night, with the right size of the moon, you can still smell the unfiltered ci******es, you can still see a faint haze of dope, and hear the sounds of lobotomized organs and pianos. I am nothing but memories now. Fare thee well. You can all rest easier now. It's time for me to go haunt Ebenezer.
And a Festivus for the rest of us!
