For those of you who remember Hank, bird of Paradise, he came to visit me in my dreams quite a bit over the past few weeks. Last night in my dream I was carelessly prancing through Hank's bizarre forrest with aquamarine orchids in my black shiny hair wearing a broken white kebaya that my grandmother had made me. Suddenly I felt a thump on my head and black ink poured all over me. On the ground lay a huge Stabilo. I was like "Wtf?" and when I looked up, I saw Hank, in all his splendid glory, sitting on a branch above me. With a friendly but Behold-The-Metatron!-impact-like voice he told me that now that I've got no excuse to stress about anything and have no work to do until the end of the month I should practice my drawing. And work on my typography. Or else he'd kick my ass.
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