Today was day of sullen disapointment. I woke my monsterous ass up, got a shower, and started lucubrating my report for my Into to Film class. So far I managed to write an entire page in a half. I don't know where I'm going with this report so I figure I just meander through it. I masterbated to pornography like I always do.........becuase when you're a loser like me and you have noone to comfort you start touching yourself to perverted pictures on the internet. ah, the things men think of......

         My punk populist friend Brad decides to give me a call to see if I wanted to be celebratory with him. I said sure becuase I have nothing to do. I figured that I finish my report at the person who is hosting this gala of punks. I'm not a punk, but I like to divesify the people that I meet. I travel with him and his illustrious spouse; Marline. In my opion, she's mellow and as crass as he is (I call them the crass couple, an accuate sobriquet) I travled sliently with him to pick up this pugnacious drunk named neuman. Now I'm here with a bunch of boisterous drunks. An austere man with a these kind of people is like sticking a sillhoutte of sasquach with a conclave of hunters. I just don't feel right here. Call me paranoid, but I fear if they become too intoxicated they might bury me out outside with the rest of the insects.

 I showed the hosts my poetry and the extolled it. Unfortunately, their praises are vacuous because in the morning they won't remember a single line becuase they will be occupied with their afflictive hangover. The smell of stale cigarette smoke is suffcating my frail lungs as we speak. And it doesn't help that I'm an asthmatic either. I feel like shit, but I'm in a somber disposition where ever I go. When I'm with couples (espically with the crass couple) my depression crescendos rapidly. When I see two people in love , it makes yearn for tenderness. I long for someone to cherish me as much as I hallow them. But, being fat, diffrent, and compassionate keeps women away. I feel like I'm every woman's anathema. Like just because I'm not arrogant, have an dilated phallus, or musclar I'm treated like pond scum.

         I'm growing weary of the drunken obnoxiousness this group is resonating. I don't know I guess I'm used to the sweet sound of slience. I'm unsure if the melancholy I feel will ever fade after I leave this crowd. I'm setting here sober; embodying the straight edge ethos and still feeling like a bovine's fecal matter. I feel that if I start drinking, that I'll become the man I hate and end up incarcerated for raping these nubile naifs Brad affliates with. I'm too much of a feminist to do such a horrid thing like that so I stay away from the bottle. I guess I have to stay the night here. I will await for death to come and take me from this world.