Not exactly a Courtney Love carcrash but one nonetheless is the state of exhaustion, intensity and deprivation that marks the rounding of the summer bend toward the end of what is best referred to as bootcamp. When everyone's eyes suddenly develop a certain glossiness and faces reveal a pallour that says I've been having more coffee than naps. Spoke to Newbie Andrew last night about the oddball Parsons School of Bootcamp Proportions switcheroo from summer to autumn session style when suddenly the community, frazzlements, arguments, bumping into each other goes *poof* in the night and one is left to one's own online/distance learning devices.
Here I must absolutely thank Phillip for coming to my rescue last night as I was immobilized (see above) on a park bench on Thompson near Spring, and that handsome French (though he swore he is Spanish but we spoke French as only Yours Truly can do after wrangling the foreign syllables, post-bevvie) bartender who took pity upon my sobbing self propped up on stool by Phillip and made a record-setting scotch & soda - smattering of latter. And he deposited two double shots of same in front of Yours Truly as special mood-enhancement.
Back in the saddle, reading for Misery Seminar (of which there are 15 hours remaining, count 'em), editing video and being my usual dazzling self.

Specious Love.