Someone in Canada is reading this blog. I'm not sure why I find that so ominous, but I do.


Only two more weeks and then I'll have home access again....and I gotta tell you, schlepping to the computer cafe like some sort of Industrial-Age pleb has GOT to end. Even though this did lead directly to my finding and purchasing an antique mahogany writing desk. I'll tell you about that later.
Also, and I really hate to be predictable, but fuck me it is HOT. Being outside is like wading through stew. Or...no, I'll tell you what it's like. Picture that guy, in your office or mineshaft or collective or wherever it is that you work...you know that guy, he's overweight and judging from his sartorial choices doesn't KNOW he's overweight, and he sweats all the time, big beady cartoon sweat, and he has to breathe through his mouth because all the folds of neckfat press down on his pharynx and make nose-breathing difficult, so when he breathes it's that really moist, overheated, gurgling noise? Ok. Being outside right now is like standing directly in front of his mouth as he breathes. I so heart New York. Blech.