November 2015

It’s just what I do.

Sometimes the instructions I give result in unmitigated hotness. Ella came for me twice — once on a plane, once upon arrival — and wrote about it so well I don’t care if every word is true.

I’ve been watching women on stairs — not looking up their skirts, but watching them protect against the possibility — and it’s sent me down a rabbit hole about privacy, violation, and some truly bizarre legal priorities.

Why do I procrastinate? Because I’m scared.