So anyway, I'm drunk by myself again.
The title of this post is, COPS IS FUCKED UP.
Or, alternatively, NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC IS THE BEGINNING OF THE END.

I found a video of myself on youtube. I was singing along. But here is the serious analysis of what, exactly, happened here in the insula.
(Did I ever tell you: we MRI'd my brain in March and I lay there for an hour, maybe less or more, anyway I looked at disgusted faces and then I mimicked them, and then he analised what had happened there, in the insula, and he found decreased activity, I worry about this often.) (This means, simply put, that chemically I am depressed.) (Which is funny actually, because I actually feel pretty ok.)

I have been daydreaming. Of homes. Of places to live.
I have been coming home home from work to boxes of cereal.
I have been sleeping at least 18 hours a day.
I have been resisting calling my coke dealer.
I have been sending text messages to your phone number.

I will write something real here tomorrow. The real response to this image cannot be written at this time. Our apologies.

(incollaboration with wag scala)