…are all I’m good for today.
Some series of circumstances conspired to make me feel depressed at work today. Of course what I’m really depressed about is the stuff that I’m supposed to be doing that I’m chickening out from. Shakey progress and fragile feelings.
I am alternately moved by and annoyed at the tone of Larissa Mac Farquahar’s profile of John Ashberry in this week’s New Yorker.
(edit: I already gratefully feel your sympathies, so you don’t have to post hugs what you can post is song lyrics that sound funnier the more you think about them. Here’s one to start with: Hold me closer Tiny Dancer)