pI went to the Dead Zoo in Dublin. It’s overrun with morbid children in the summer but it’s quiet in the autumn. It’s less disturbing than a real zoo, because for these creatures, the worst is over. Long over, in most cases. I find it peaceful, except for the mounted heads, which somehow seem more grotesque than full-body taxidermy, possibly because it’s less dignified. 

Also this week, something tragic and terrible happened involving a mouse, but I don’t want to talk about it. 

Photos show a skelephant. 

I. Like. Fish. It is always worthwhile going to the aquarium.

Even if they are strange, sad places.

In the bottom of one tank I saw a horseshoe crab trapped on his back. He figured it out eventually. 

I have conflicting obsessions. I like to buy new things, but I don’t like things to be *new*. I greedily stockpile new pencils, but I use old ones that are knobbly and chewed. I buy new notebooks, but I write and draw on scraps. 

Lately I’ve been buying journals and customising them so they feel like “mine”. Then I can scribble to my heart’s content. These are blank Moleskine journals, with animal drawings on the cover in ink, graphite and white pencil.