Here are Saint Monty and Saint Emmi in requisite green . . . today was Saint Patrick’s Day, after all. Monty went to work nannying other people’s children, and Emmi went about being a domestic cat.

As someone who was once described as “the most spiritually unemployed person alive”—I of course spent the entire day in bed napping and drinking coffee and answering phone calls and working on this thing I’m making. I think this thing is gonna be cool, but then I have to think that . . . someone has to . . .

In the evening I made the executive decision to skip Chicago for now (it’s too cold) and go in April when I’m back on the East Coast. And so this weekend I’m flying straight to Los Angeles to film everything I’ve got to film there, which feels daunting to do alone, given how much I have to film, but what other choice do I got? I don’t yet have the budget to bring anyone with me. They tell me it’s something like 90 degrees in LA right now, and not much better in the Bay where I’m headed after that, which is a bummer. No matter where I go, I can’t seem to escape Freak Weather . . . give me a break with this!

Hello? Are you in Los Angeles? Amissa? Cera? Pallas? Sahar? I’ll see you in a few days . . . does anyone want to hold a camera for me? Or perhaps hold an umbrella over me while I film? I’ll bet the UV index is fucking crazy right now . . .