too much, but not quite

9:55 p.m. - 2002-10-28

Mail the grandmother's birthday present; it'll be late. Mail things to Autumnal, to Sylvia, buy the other grandmother's birthday present, buy the Curmudgeon's, sign up to be the dramaturg for Laramie, plan to work in the box office next semester, write detailed entries on the DC protest, write comments to other people. Not here, 'course, but I will anyway:

Amarette: Always the outtakes, oh yes.

Lauren: Re: Cinna the Poet. Nah, you weren't the only one. Did you see those "The Madness of King George" ones?

Sylvia: Congratulations. You'll soon come to terms with the deflowering process.

To Mao: I wouldn't mind what you did so much if I at least knew why you did it.

To the parental units: I want to transfer, I want a new blanket, and I don't want you to know how I really am.

To the institution: Take me as I am.

I've been diagnosing myself for so long now; I don't guess having someone else do the same can hurt. It's free on campus, besides. Not that I'll go. Wallowing is my forte, rationality is not.

Heavens, Austine, just go away so I can sit here blankly a little longer.

Adieu.

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