This place is a catastrophe!
What ... a ... dump!
This is what I think
as I spend all day
trapping boobies.
Look, I trapped five
at home just last night!
That’s a direction, not a
representation. My
glasses are lying
to you from the top
of my journal. I’m
sending this (w/apol-
ogies) to you from a
place where all the
Aztecs have laptops,
while I’m finishing
up a gorgonzola salad.
See the butter knife next
to the red notebook just
over there [I’m pointing,
look at me, Dumdum]?
It means I feel like such a
prick every time I accident-
ally pick up one of your
notebooks (the ones w/
illustrations + text in
which toothpicks hold
yr place). As proof, I cry
and jot down a few notes
about the experience... for
one of my own silly notebooks.
