Picture this.
You’re in a dark room. You don’t know how you got here. Your eyes have been sealed shut with a foul crust of dead skin and tears for so long that you labor to let in the smallest amount of light. And when the dim light of the computer monitor in front of you finally hits your tender retina, it’s like staring directly into the sun.
You compose yourself, what little of “yourself” is left. It’s coming back to you now. It’s hour 56 of your dynasty draft, isn’t it? Round 5609. The names flashing across the board no longer resemble any human language you’ve ever seen before.
Please, blog, may I have some more?