Bon Iver is painting my toenails. As he lovingly applies the ruby lacquer, he addresses each toe by name. His favorite is the left pinky toe, the nail of which is just barely visible. He calls her Sinclair and he sees himself in her. ‘She spends her days traveling the earth, but she never quite touches the ground,’ he says matter-of-factly.
JESUS CHRISTI ACCIDENTALLY SENT MY POTENTIAL FUTURE BOSS A PICTURE OF NIC CAGE RATHER THAN MY COVER LETTER+RESUME, WHICH WAS A ZIP FILE TITLED WITH A BUNCH OF NUMBERS LIKE THE JPG I ACCIDENTALLY ATTACHED OH MY GOD
Thank you the God of email mishaps. Thank you.