White trash mocha after a thorough afternoon flogging. Fudge the clock the wrong way and there you go. Do work, son. Clearing out the pre-ride cobwebs to replace them with lactic acid ones. Sleep deprivation studies in the middle of a bloc. At this point I might as well sign up for a 25 hour race. I should do an extra hour. Clicking through the ink misses the octopus, simpler to get it all done with one. Replace the empty spaces with full(er) cubes, less uniform geometric shapes, the hours aren't always 60 minutes, sometimes they get to 67 minutes other times 53. Average it out, makes for less insanity. Enjoy all the pieces in the fake random order they arrive in. Random? I doubt it, there is a rhythm, look closer.