I feel shitty today. Not hungover shitty, though I did have drinking water dreams which is indicative of dehydration. I feel shitty all the shitty ways. My cold persists and a festering thing is living somewhere in my chest. One of those metaphorical festering things that feels like a real thing. Eleven hours of work and then I am going to come home and eat pizza and hopefully do laundry. I am wearing a shirt with a hole in the armpit. I don't particularly care what I wear to work because I can pretend I am a quirky art student, though I'm not. Writers are different from visual arts.