In light of the recent, um...upsurge of emotion regarding K, this article becomes pretty goddamn ironic.

Yeah, he was on Paxil. Yeah, we had talked about how it seemed to fuck him up more. Yeah, we remembered this when he fucking killed himself.

You know, I can't even begin to type out what I am feeling right now. On one hand, hey, here's an actual FDA fucking approved reason. On the other hand, what a fucking STUPID and MADDENING reason.

I won't even go into how almost every single person I know has been put on that drug and how this all happened in middle school/early high school. What the fuck. I can't even...Christ.

I'm changing the subject before I start smashing shit with my fucking head.

Happiness!

I am way too excited about the new random entry thing. Think of the drinking game possibilities! One drink for landing on an entry that mentions masturbation, three for landing on one where there's mention of chafing. Or how about fortune-telling fun! You know. That one thing where you ask a question then open a book to a random page and your answer is somewhere in the text? You could do that! With your very own diary! Or a complete stranger's! Thanks, Andrew!

Oh, holy fuck, I need a life.

Anyway, I finally heard from the play dude regarding my play. First, he said no cussing. 'Aight. I can fucking dig that. And then he said...well, OK, here's an idea. Before I go off on Mr. Play Dude and send him an e-mail IN ALL CAPITAL LETTERS CUZ I'M FUCKING TOUGH, I should maybe get some more opinions. Like from you. You sexy, sexy beast whom I can't see.

I think the play dude missed the point. But I could be wrong. I may have completely fucked the point up. I can't be objective since this is my own work and I know what I meant when I wrote it. Does that make sense? Would anybody be interested in reading the script and offering their translation of this elusive Point? Like, what do you think I'm trying to say with this play? I would really, really appreciate even just one more point of view.

If you're interested, email me or sign the guestbook with your email address.

God, I feel like such a bother for asking this of you.

OK, it's bedtime. I know I had more to yell/gush about, but my bones are aching and the head still weighs a million pounds.

Goodnight, everybody.

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