It's Blow-Your-Mind Friday

To start, Neil Gaiman as a teenager.

To finish, Ian McShane is Al Swearengen on Deadwood.

...And Mr. Bobinsky in Coraline.

Really, Citibank?

For this statement to be true, you would need to go back to 2001 and make a much stronger case for state school than Mr. Fleck. Or if you set the thingamajig to 80 mph maybe you could work yourself back to LZ wombtime and reprogram the cluster of cells that would one day be my brain to be really into math and cutthroat business skills.

KIT,
LZ

put the you in unicorn

When we don’t do what we’re built to, we start breaking.

This goes for bodies and it goes for minds.

All sorts of systems fold in on themselves. Circuits blow, synapses misfire and new patterns form. Holding patterns instead of flight patterns. Defense mechanisms align. Rube Goldberg/ MC Escher makeout parties happen in our souls.

When we aren’t ourselves we’re someone else suckier. We’re us on a bad day, every day. We’re a shadow. We’re a hologram.

And we aren’t even shiny.

Here's to doing what we're built to, most of the time!

I really hate my job.

I feel like a felled unicorn on the battlefield of good and evil today, my glitterspine ripped from my cookie-flavored flesh, my blood and bile crusting into rock-candy rivulets that sully my candyfloss hide.

FUCK THIS PLACE AND THE NONMYTHICAL CREATURE IT RODE IN ON.

I wrote this in an email to someone to be an ass but it's actually the most accurate description of how I feel about this day. It's not as down as it might seem, because even a gutted unicorn is still a unicorn, in the end.