Dear Diary:
The textbook definition of delusion is to suppose that I am here and Alan Lightman is out there.

Dear Diary:
I realized I needed something to do, so I signed up for aerobics class.
Every day it feels like I'm hurtling closer and closer to my doom.

Dear Diary:
There was an old woman who lived in a shoe
She was missing an appendage and she didn't know what to do
So she took out some clay and fashioned a leg

then hobbled around like a dork
so bored out of her fucking mind.

Dear Diary:
Sometimes I dream of being Timbaland. I feel like such a hypocrite.

Dear Diary:
This morning a man on a motorbike turned his head four times to look at me.
My decapitated head and I are disappointed he didn't crash into a lamp post.

Dear Diary:
Other people have songs that keep playing over and over inside their heads.
In my case, it's a male person's laughter.

I hope I'm not growing a new personality.

Dear Diary:
Alyssa Alano is a true performing artist.
( I wish I'd written the subtitles myself. )

Dear Diary:
I cannot stop thinking about Hairy Potter.

Dear Diary:
I find even my own burps delicious.

Dear Diary:
I'm thinking of pursuing Art.