Dear everyone; my brain is officially fried. I used to think, in my early, more stoned days, that my brain was probably getting more and more fried with every passing day. Now I have concluded that that is exactly what was happening. My brain has officially reached the point, however, where it actually is fried. Yes, it now is a lump of gelatinous poop. Perhaps it's just the 4 (and a half, to be fair) hours of sleep I got last night. Nonetheless, my mind feels like it's swimming between my ears, making a sort of gushy, schlip, schlip sort of sound as it goes. Yeah, that kind of sucks, man. It also hopefully excuses why I'm writing such unintelligible drivel.

To be fair, the large part of my journal is unintelligible drivel. If you're nodding your head, agreeing with this statement, well, fuck you. I know I talk in circles, damnit! It's hard to make a point. At least I don't spend my whole goddamn journal talking about stupid shit like some girl I'm crushing on, or you know, the parties I go to every weekend (ok, sometimes I talk about shit like that) or, err, the number of classes I'm taking (how many? more than you, motherfucker - remember, I'm fucking brilliant) so yeah, what else is there left to do but talk in circles? I think it's an art, talking about the practice of blogging in general. Doubtless, it's a fucking circle jerk, but hey, what else are you supposed to do?

Life of the Mind = Mental Masturbation.

The University of Chicago fucked me in the head.

No, seriously, like, ripped out an eyeball and penetrated me with its throbbing academic phallus.

It hurt like shit.

It still hurts.

Every fucking night.

Like your mom.

Ok, now I'm seriously going to try and go to sleep.

In the reg.

Some days, my life really fucking sucks.