It was almost ten minutes into Godspeed, You Black Emperor! — Hungover As The Queen In Maida Vale when I stepped off the bus onto the damp ground. It was barely light out, and I carefully made my way between deep and distinctly brown puddles caused by car tires on a softened gravel lot. The sirens in my ears rang over and over, and it felt like the bombs had all been dropped, a post-apocalyptic aftermath on a barren, nameless day. I was among the last of the living dead making his way to work.

I’m going to make it through this day without coffee. I’m going to make it through this day without coffee. I’m going to make it through this day without coffee.

Honestly.