The WeatherComputer has been rebelling. It shuts down on its own, runs programs nobody tells it to; it’s trying to take control. If this message makes it off this accursed disk, be warned: the computers are beginning their takeover.
Thursday’s forecast: I can’t let you do that, Dave.
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“dusty rusty crusty musty ass california hills”
“frowning in plaid (haunted radios, bird bones + anthropomorphized wind)”
“warming my hands on bridges i’ve burnt”
“songs that make me see god”
“My Playlist #236”
“classy wine moment and intellectual conversation”
“90s heroin chic model off duty”
“tweet tweet bird emoji map emoji”
“not my circus, not my monkeys”
“a grave is probably cheaper than an apartment”
“ATE THESE BITCHES LEFT NO CRUMBS / DID IT IN DESIGNER PUMPS”
