Send us Fan Mail it's nearly one in the afternoon and i haven't read a fucking email this year. this was supposed to be a serious day. deadlines. targets. catholic guilt. presbyterian duty stomping around the room like an angry motherfucker. instead i'm still in my silk bruce lee pyjama bottoms, three coffees deep, magic potions mashed into yoghurt, watching my laptop quietly devour the morning. this is a field report from inside the machine. adhd. drugs. barefoot running in tropical heat. mo...