"Many Men Steer Clear of Those Shores..."

Bear in mind that this is crack. Unedited crack. Unedited crack written in two sessions, and half-ill, and in a mad attempt to break writer's block.

Have you all got that? Excellent.

Well, then, I present you: Billina/Viola, or:

( How Billina the Yellow Hen Came to Change the Name of Her Chicks )

"Where Clarity's a Rarity..."

Oh, and guess what? It appears, according to the birthday calender, that oh what a celebration we'll have to-day. *hops*

Happy birthday, then, O reynardbleu! I'm so glad you found Percy in time, too! *pounces, and decks you out with streamers, bwaha* Now, just have a splendid birthday, with plotbunnies of doom cake and kitty-love, and may all be well with your world!

Much love. ^__^

"At the Late Night Double Feature Picture Show..."

Another bad rehearsal.

Please do not come to my play. Of course nobody has any intention of doing any such thing, between distances and frank absurdity and the general '...come to your play'nesses, but never mind that. Don't come.

This play has made an emotional wreck of me. My self-esteem is gone, I've lost my knack for interacting with people, which was always fragile but is now utterly broken. I cry after every rehearsal. I'm crying now. I'm crying so hard it makes my cough come, and then I cough and cough and cough and it hurts. I hate myself so much. The guilty is eating me alive.

I am not going to the cast party. I am not buying a DVD of the performance. I am not exchanging e-mail addresses and phone numbers with the rest of the cast. I don't really ever want to see the cast again as long as I live. Never. God help me.

I hate people, when all I'm supposed to do is love people as hard as I can. I don't. Not right now. I'm actually going to take comments off this post, which is so stupid and pretentious of me that I can't even understand why I'm doing it, because I don't want people so much.

Wednesday is the only day all week long that belongs to me, and they stole it and they took it away from me.

I am such an idiot, such a fucking idiot. I hate myself more than I have words for right now, more than I think I can make people understand, because people just don't take me seriously. I feel so guilty. The play makes me guilty. I'm a terrible actor, and I'm so selfish and pretentious and Jesus I don't even see why the people there put up with me. Especially because I hate them. I hate them.

God. Please let this be over. I don't know what I'm going to do to-morrow. I don't know how I made it through to-day. I'm such an idiot.

"And Listen to the Music on the Radio..."

And I found out why N. wasn't speaking to me.

But just because I know now doesn't mean he will.

Everything is wrong to-day.