I hate diaryland so much I want to jab a thick, pointed stick in the center of this monitor. I hate my brain so much I want to jab a thick, pointed stick in the center of its monitor. I hate the way I work so much that I want to stab extraordinarily hard at that way. I want a mugger to shoot me in the head, paralyzing me, barely killing me. I want Alan to beat me up to a bloody pulp. I want to drown, survive, and then drown again. I want to be a starving prisoner in an infectious Iraquian jail cell. I want to be Jewish in the Holocaust. I want somebody to be EXTREMELY HORRIBLE TO ME. I want to be dying. I want my plane to crash and for me to suffer burns. I want to be disfigured. I want cancer. I want bone disease. I want to be a rural Slovakian farmer tangled up in a dry season. I want to be in the 30's Depression. I want to be the beggar in the street with the cut off lips playing the erhu.

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