My cell has been dead since the night of the 21st. If you haven’t said it by email after that then I haven’t heard it. Sorry. Oh– and– before that: no voice for weeks. Sorry. In a terrible/wonderful turn of events I can only text.
In preparation for Hollywood:
And then T and I killed the tofu and ate it.
Yogic show-off cat:
Eats Freud, is not edified.
These books fit perfectly into this box:
Gunpowder and corn muffins:
Afterpneuma. Miraculously, this red glow in the bookstore basement is produced by a product called “the book hug:”
This is my co-worker dramatically posing for me on the day we got to send Diablo Cody’s b.s. memoir back to the manufacturer:
Bye bye, Diablo:
And now with my little love: