If she fails, in the least particular, of nicety in dress, then have you the old beaten path before you: load her with the names of trollop, slattern, slut, dirty beast, &c. omit not any of those trite observations; that all WITS are slatterns; - that no girl ever delighted in reading, that was not a slut; - that well might the men say they would not for the world mary a WIT; and that they had rather have a woman who could make a pudden, than one who could make a poem; - That it was the ruin of all girls that had not independent fortunes, to have learnt either to read or write. You may tell her also, that she may thank God, that her ugliness will preserve her from being a whore.

--Jane Collier, An Essay on the Art of Ingeniously Tormenting _
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03:44:32 PM, Monday 7 June 2004

doin all right
gettin good grades
future so bright
gotta Wear Shades _
respond? (2)
03:20:49 PM, Saturday 5 June 2004

Also, I've been seeing things for at least a week, mainly corner-of-the-eye stuff, but it's worse today. I saw a car drive up just now, watched it come almost the whole length of the driveway, and come around to park by the side door, but when I went out to greet whoever it was, there was no car, creepy. And I keep trying to pet the dog that's put her head on my leg but is actually up in the city, which made me lose my balance at least once. I remember when I used to need ten hours of sleep a night, and here I'm cruising with two shifts of two hours each twenty-four.

All very interesting. If you don't hear from me before Friday, and you might not, since I'm going out for a stroll now and then I've got a seven hour shift starting in an hour and then an eight hour shift after that and then a little fretting to do and then I'm driving to DC to be driven to Baltimore to be flown to London to meet and be greeted, you won't hear from me for a little while longer after that, as I expect my plate will be full. My heart is full. Angle-Land, here I come! _
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02:01:56 PM, Thursday 3 June 2004

Nightmares (napmares?) of being chased by bulls in a channel between pens, on rocky ground. Their giant horns, their terrible silence, their speed. They could make ninety-degree turns in a flash, suddenly rearing up on their hind legs, twisting in the air, and crashing down again. _
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01:21:54 PM, Thursday 3 June 2004