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Forged in the ever-burning hearth of an accursed cabin in the frigid northwoods of Wisconsin, Clockwork Pines brings that spine-tingling magic you crave, the kind that hits you where it counts, right in the stomach. Dead center in that lingering pit of insecurity, the self-doubt you've carried since childhood, growing up in the 90s full of hope... Well, guess what. It's late stage capitalism now, baby-- and all your dreams are dead.
Saturday, January 25, 2020
Enter, all who dare!
Welcome to the Clockwork Pines, shelter from rain, my tree fort, my personal headspace. To the left you can see a deteriorating cardboard box full of first-edition Ninja Turtles from my childhood, and on the far wall there's a treasure map I found at a garage sale--the clues point to that old abandoned mansion on the hill behind the schoolhouse. In the corner there's a bookshelf full of ghost stories, and if you stay the night you might find much more to keep your mind occupied...
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