From a Yahoo! article about Vice President-elect Pence getting a little talking to from the cast of Hamilton (and a fair amount of the old Bronx cheer from the audience), commenter Eric wrote today’s DWP at 2:30 in the morning which may or may not explain a few things about it’s content and spelling.



Devin hated himself and made his way through the gyrating crowds and music booming so loudly it almost felt like a physical barrier. Why had he come? What had made him think this was a good idea? A young man, oblivious to everything except the music, jumped in front of him and although he could feel his fists clench and his nails dig into his palms, Devin forced himself to keep his arms down at his side. In half a moment the young man moved on, bopping his way into the throng and Devin darted off as nimbly as he could. He had to find the exit. He had to.

He had wanted to just have some fun. Nothing sinister. He hadn’t wanted to hurt anyone. God, he’d been so stupid.

He didn’t, emotionally, want to eat. He didn’t have to. There were humane ways around it. An ethical supply-chain of sorts. But he was feeling more and more like he should eat. As he was jostled around by the young people pursuing almost recklessly their own pleasures it struck him that maybe they deserved it. Sure, not all of them. But some. Several.

Devin could feel the gorge rising in his throat as his stomach twisted into knots. All the people here were so rude and inconsiderate, so heedless of anyone but themselves and their own desires that it actually made Devin nauseous. And that almost put him off his lunch. Almost.

Somehow while navigating the shifting swarm Devin found himself in the middle of a group of women with drinks and phones in hand. They all looked so happy, with big sloppy smiles on their faces. One of them bumped into him, looked at him for a split second, said “uhh, yeah” and then began dancing with her friend as though that were that. As though “uhh, yeah” was an apology. It was barely even an acknowledgment of her clumsy mistake. His belly spasmed in anticipation and he felt so empty that he was certain his body was burning its own muscle tissues for fuel. In the back of his mind, distant and becoming increasingly immaterial, he recognized the vileness of his thoughts. The crowd parted, just for a flash, and Devin could see the door out but before he could make measurable process the crowd came back together, blocking him off from the empty streets of the dark night. He was so close but had never before felt so trapped; both physically by the mass of bodies and spiritually by his own appetite.



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