It occurred to me on the way here that I might die doing this and should probably record something to specify that this is not a suicide. Also, this is kind of an event, so there should probably be some record of it. If you happen to find me in this undisclosed Red Roof Inn surrounded in blood with a hole in my head, Post-it notes with unintelligible scribbles covering everything, nonsensical notebooks in a pile on the desk, and a hoard of unlabeled non-perishable food products stacked to the ceiling, first of all, sorry for scaring you and making a mess. Please don’t be traumatized and have a terrible life. Second, this is not a suicide.