The sultry undergrowth of night has yielded to the obnoxious leaf blower of wakefulness. Another week tumbles pendulously from the unzipped flies of the future. My bed beseeches me: Son of Man, do not waste your time in the upright world. But I can't do that, bed, because I have already checked my inbox in a fit of self-loathing, and would you believe there are new PC games to write about???
Источник
Rock Paper Shotgun