Well, another day, and I'm still fresh out of ideas. Did I deserve it? Yes, yes I did. I was an idiot. An idiot with a dream, but an idiot. An idiot looking like Indiana Jones for answers that, for crying out loud, weren't meant for mortal ears to hear--and so, I paid the price. I still feel like I'm going to puke a little...maybe I should have went into the fortune-telling business. Or a sham-ghost-hunting business, that could have worked. Anything!
But, I guess this'll work out too. I mean, I willingly subject you to my day now, right? That's how modern journals work? You subject a captive audience to your life regardless of whether you want to or not? Either way, this could be fun. Strangely fun and thrilling, like drinking six shots in ten or fifteen minutes and then blacking out after hitting something like a wood cabinet--especially with God on my side. Hey, it's only Tuesday. There's a lot of space to write and think.
YOU ARE READING
Puppetry
RandomWell, let's get this out of the way now. I'm bored and figured--what the hell, I might as well chronicle each day from now until the very end. No particular deadline, really. And something hurts in my hips, so I need to distract from the pain in it...
