I mangled Batmish’s binocular case for my own selfish ends

That’s just how I am and I think you should know that about me My feet look hilarious in this. So, you’re welcome. When you came out of the bar yesterday and I was doing an extra-loud, extra-energetic: I love you I hate you I’m on the fence it all depends whether I’m up I’m…

A sense of aloneness

And for a little while I held onto my weird bond with the dead artist. But – (shockingly) – it turns out leaning on Leonardo DaVinci for reassurance of how totally and completely not-weird I was, was a terrifically bad strategy. And before long the instinctive childlike kinship I initially felt with Leonardo was a source of confusion and something almost approaching self-scolding in and of itself.
 Because only DaVinci is DaVinci.