It’s high time for Sturtevant to enroll or vogue up. I’m letting go of time: mixing prints and pamplemousse cocktails. You’re going to say that your boy just tripled the words, starting to speak in puffy idioms. Callipygian idioms. Emollient idioms. A fucking spatchcock. Give me twenty-five seconds, and I’ll make all this splendiferous jank go away.