Here're the cakes we speeeeeecially made for the, uh, um, lesson of it. No, seriously, who wouldn't want to have a Special Cake at a Gallery Opening or Funeral March? Ok. I'll stop being annoying about the time I really wanted to be spending ($25.56) on the 1/10th book-project that looms over me and my dreams to the extent of frosting re-arrangement, and melancholy whip-mix with panic. But cake in alphabetical order:

a's cake:

am's cake:

e's cake:

h's cake:

j's cake:


my cake (I got called a "shit" by R, as she helped me ensure the integrity of my translation. I surely hope she knows I was being I-ROn-IcaL with the utmost of fury at Homeland Bullshiterity):

s's cake:

t's cake:


Overall, you might notice how mine is the ugliest. Clearly so, and technically speaking, an overwhelming disaster of graphic design. But I felt no regrets overall. Strange, that.

But then, here're some the moments of cakestuffing with strangers, and now that they're out there, I feel like finding a random nightclub and making out with a random stranger just to ensure that. That sugar isn't the only metamorphic chemical. That this energy won't lead anywhere. That I actually know, on a physical level, what it means to relax. Yo. wup wup. (tomorrow, book layout + Perec's Life, A Users Manual [all twenty million more pages of it]) and, and here:

(God, I want to go dancing, but um, I got so tired of going out dancing alone that I'm not even sure I could start it again.)