2014-07-19 - 6:57 p.m.
Some, you know, twelve-dollar tuna tacos have knocked me out for night two of this year's Artscape and maybe it was the hour-long fever-dream half-nap I just took, but it strikes me, as I'm lying here, thinking about the bands my friends are seeing, the beers they're drinking on Mount Royal Avenue, the weird people they're ogling, pointing at, making memories with, that I suppose that death would be the ultimate FOMO, wouldn't it, motherfuckers?
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