the rest can go to texas

Do you know what designers love the most? When they're dealing with multiple managers on the same project, when the importance of that project warrants exactly half a minute's attention from a junior secretary, *at best*, but these managers have pressed in anyway, all elbows, asserting their 100K salaries on correcting some minor logo or disposable poster, because they can't help themselves, and seven revisions into it these managers start making revisions like, can you combine the middle aspect of version 3 with the colour scheme from version 6, I've attached an example but ignore the red, and I've also attached another poster with a tagline we need to add (near the bottom, I think), and remember that thing we talked about six months ago, the idea with the tower? yeah, if you could incorporate something along those lines, that would be great, I think we're almost there! and you know you *know* you're not almost there because it feels distinctly like fucking nowhere, you're reading but not reading, just looking at words that are dead flies sifting in piles across your screen, you no longer have any idea *what* they want because you're a graphic designer and not a detective, not even *close* to a detective, you were never really good at figuring/managing things, let alone mountains of bullshit, you just liked to draw and had a talent for combining things and reinventing things and packaging/presenting things as clear and new, and the idea of unthreading this mess is wholly impossible, especially now that you're nothing more than a monkey with a keyboard.

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Speaking of hell, C thought it was a good idea to rent The Day of the Locust, which we watched this weekend. YIKES. I just thought it would be good since we both read the book, she said, and then confessed that she couldn't remember any of it. YIKES. The book was dark and desperate and heavy-handed with desperation and a certain kind of evil hysteria, but the ending of this movie makes it look like Weekend at Bernie's. Donald Sutherland, God bless him, deserves a special seat in that hot place for such egregious overracting, not least of which is the scene where he stomps a little kid to death. YIKES.

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