This morning. I was tripping on acid. Without Igor-fumes. Trig makes my brain melt.

Why, after computers in art, does it always feel like nothing is real? Maybe staring at the screen for an hour frazzles my corneas or something, but walking down the hallway turns into a video game of avoiding people, and trying not to trip and fall and die. It takes me forever to snap out of it.

Wow. For apparently being smarter than the average bear, I can really sound like a pothead sometimes.