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8:03 p.m. - September 11, 2002
Something wrong
I don't like this design.

Today met the mayors of both San Francisco and Oakland. First for Willie, third for Jerry. Whoo hoo.

Was told by another interpreter that I am beautiful to watch. Compliements make me uneasy.

Somewhat of a breakthrough session this morning.

I'm not very happy though I'm not unhappy.

Tonight I desire chocolate chip ice cream but twice in a week is a no-go.

Bathsheba's hurt because I don't take an interest in her life. Rob is hurt that I don't take an interest in his. TJ wonders why I'm unfriendly. You probably don't notice because I keep to myself anyways.

Anomie and I can't even write. Scratch that--notice scratch, instead of Delete, Mr. Madrigle--there's much to write but it's a sorry song with lyrics trite so isn't it better nobody has a quarter for the jukebox?

I feel like yelling.

I just did.

My mind is roiling and where's the Dramamine?

I'm going to the store to get some ice cream. And grapes. And Odwalla.

Something's wrong.

 

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