(diaryland) September 24, 2002 - 6:09 p.m.

I don't think I'm doing very well at school this semester. But so far, I'm passing, which counts. It counts as passing.

Last night, I smoked the cigar Diane gave me for my birthday. It was a goddamn whopping large one. It burnt off my taste buds and lips. It took fifty minutes to smoke and then I crawled inside, collapsed on the couch and tried to pay attention to watching Bad Taste. I felt as sick as nineteen or twenty dogs.

Jon gave me a The Clean CD. I cannot believe their pointyness. I listened to it again today.

I would like to be in Christchurch again. I lived there once. I remember a little hill my Dad and his seven brothers and sisters used to play on and a neighbour with three or less teeth.

RINALDO, ACT 2.