I’m an art historian. It’s my job. You’re so profoundly wrong. Art operates in contexts. That’s what art is: an intervention in a world. And this project includes a description that helps you see what it means! It’s as if it’s part of the project! While I appreciate your assiduous attention to form, you might want to…

Ned Beauman has a great novel about the 25-hour clock, “Glow.” The novel’s not great, really, but the chunks on the circadian dislocation are interesting.

Yes.

So he hates gay people but wants me to suck his balls? Sounds like every other closet case I know.

My wife’s a doctor and I always ask her about Tylenol doses for our son, who’s a tiny kid. She looks at me bemused and just squirts a bunch in his mouth.

And I once broke up with a girlfriend in my sleep because she didn’t like Public Enemy enough. I woke up and she was packing her things!

It’s amazing that all of the things in your comment are interesting and that it also makes me want to punch your butt with a *hard* punch.

I still have the chills! Jesus, Jimmy.

Jesus Christ you people are killing me.

I think this is suitably freaky.

I had a tingle! God. That was scary. In a related sleepwalking story: in my sleep I told a woman I was briefly dating that she was smart and pretty so I wouldn’t eat her. (FYI: I don’t eat *anyone*.)