2002-01-02 - 11:27p.m.
No, the quotation from the last entry is not a Dickens. No amount of anything in the world could get me reading that crap. The finish to the line is, "...nor the breathing of someone who lay beside you in the moonlight."
And it's nice, and I like it, and I'm as shocked as you all, believe me.
I have a problem, a dilemma (and yes, that is the correct spelling, shut the fuck up) if you will, but I can't talk about it here.
Nor can I write about it (just checking to see if you all were paying attention. Damn am I clever.)
On second thought....
No, no cleverosity reeking out of me. Just a chumpstain in a faux-clever suit.
That'd be an awesome song...
Ken, this entry is getting away from you...
What, am I supposed to talk-
Write.
Write, excuse me, about how I have a problem and I can't discuss it here, not even using clever euphemisims that are the standard language of the electronic diary because everyone involved would immediately see their involvement, no matter how clever or elaborate the euphemism is? Should I go off on that one for a while, maybe overdramatize it to Lexi-ish proportions for a while till I'm practically begging for someone to come along and dickslap me?
Gee, when you put it that way...you pretty much are begging for someone to come along and dickslap you.
I just want to get this down for posterity, so that when I look back on this time period, I'll read this entry and think about the details of the April Fool's Day 2002 Problem (as this problem will come to be known)
Basically this entry is going to act as a pneumonic device for you for when you pull a Reagan and can't even remember how to tie your own shoes?
Yeah.
Ken
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