Things are weird. Heard from jj, who missed me while at the New York Film Festival. A while later, I got an email from Brooklyn Boy, who apparently masturbated last night while looking at photos of my cleavage. And after the meeting I interrupted a conversation between The Tan Man and Pops that was, uh, about me. Good thing that I’m under no illusion that I’m in control of anything. When I have zero expectations, I’m pleasantly surprised by pretty much everything. I think reading He’s Just Not That Into You had some (positive) effect on me. Or maybe three hours of thrift shopping this afternoon did me some sort of good. Heck if I know.