I am at a fancy office in the fancy Conde Nast building, scanning old comics and then going into Photoshop and arbitrarily rotating the canvas .2 degrees clockwise so that they look better because they're old comics and, also, it looks like someone ate the corner. It's sunny and I want to go outside to play. This is day 10 of working without a day off. It kind of sucks, and Julia told me she's worried that I'm not taking enough breaks and my brain is going dead, okay she didn't say my brain was going dead, I say my brain is going dead, but I only have two days to go and then it's the weekend so I think I can make it.
I looked at an apartment last night that I really like, in Clinton Hill. The girl who lives there right now owns a stuffed squirrel and a mounted deer head. But in a good-weird way, not a bad-weird way.