From 12/20/08, "Fear and Loathing and Purple Ink"

(NOTE: this journal entry was written in a purple pen. Most irritating.)

Purple ink. How I loathe the very idea of it. It reminds me of all those rubric busy-works that grade school teacher forced upon me.

Again, after much anticipation, TC stopped by last night. He's been coming by, on average, once every two weeks or so. I've begun collecting our online chats so that one day when my laziness is lifted I will write my book. I'm nine pages in and a lifetime away from the end. Hopefully these journal pages will serve as a guide. Although much of me was torn to bits three years ago in an argument over MDF with MJF. Regret inevitably ensued, and still haunts me today. Surely it's not the emotions contained, but the phrasing that I valued. My inner sentiments have and will remain the same. Those days were no different, except now I express more outwardly.

I want to curse this pen! But it is the only one that I have right now with the gel ink and structure and form I like. Such as it goes.

I'm resigned to the fact that despite my best efforts, MJF is always going to be a part of my life. No matter how much I protest and fight, somehow he's always there. Perhaps this means something, perhaps not. I'd like it if he was truly the friend that I could turn to, but I know that I can't even turn to him for $20.

I've hinted to him about my conquests since I've been out here, but he has no clue as to how long this madness has really been going on. There's no need for that.

I want to start talking about KC, but my mind is too tired. So I shall leave it at this for tonight: British, pt 2.