So all of the art students are smoking again. Smoking, not-smoking, smoking . . . Jesus God, it’s like a tennis match of vice. There was a cute one on the street today, skateboarding; I almost ran him over with my car. I suppose I could have aimed at him and then nursed him back to health in our guest room. Then I could chop off his body parts one by one and call him a dirty birdy until he paints me a portrait of Goblin Foo.

In other news, this has made me inexplicably happy.