"Hashbrowns and dry white toast."

Such a pitiable sentence fragment, delivered in raspy tones at six in the morning to an amused server. But what a delight to receive a mound of shaved, greased, and fried potatoes, flanked by four soon-to-be-jellied triangles of simple carbohydrates. What a joy to squirt ketchup into a flower shape, and pour sugar into your seventy-five cent all-you-can-drink coffee.

What would I do without the occasional all-night work session, fueled only by momentum, and inspired not by need, but by nostalgia and the desire to find the best music the internet can provide?