I'm quitting this toilet for five days and going to Florida.

I don't like Ohio. There's not an emoticon that quite expresses it, but here's one for the sort of people I'm surrounded with in town:

Yes, pigs. Drunk, vomiting, spilling-over, date-raping pigs.

I wonder what the pigs in Florida do?

I certainly hope you're all paying attention.

Back from the dead!

Tyron Leitso is a very important man. He's the next Jeremiah Dixon. "Hell yes" is the only thing to say in a lot of situations.

Does he look like me or what? God, it's killing me.

I'm at the end of my rope. Everything feels rough and hostile. I'm nearly ready to self-emmoliate.

If only I were a sex addict, I could gain some motivation.

Wrote an essay.

I watched Lawrence of Arabia tonight. As I watched, I increasingly wanted to visit the places where the movie was filmed. I wanted to be the places where T.E. Lawrence once tread.

Then I realized that I can never go there; that the West has manipulated the Middle East irreparably, and that these things are being accounted for.

Because of people like T.E. Lawrence, I can never go to the places he went. Praise of Lawrence makes his passions, the region he did his supposedly greates work in, more worth pursuing, more worth studying, more worth visiting. Those places, however, cannot be visited. They are alien to Westerners, because we ruined them; because Lawrence's work was irrevocably damaging.

It's a very tight metaphor for everything that's wrong with nonrenewable resources, and nonrenewable welcomes.

Something about a beautiful woman's spelling errors makes me want to fall in love.

No, you can't use that in your bad fiction.