April 26th, 2002. - 4:02 a.m.

The utopia turns to distopia.

Oh yes, this is now beyond the point of funny. We in the audience are crying with... with... Oh, never you mind.

So. Let it be declared, here and now, that my father is no longer my father. I formally divorse him. Here. Right now. Not that am allowed to tell him. (This is really funnier then it seems.)

I have stated: in vino veritas. But! But where one may find more truth is in a bloody nose and a severe bump to the head.

Everything has been painted with a hue of ugliness. And distorted humour. That sense of revelry and romance has been egested, and is now in the process of being flushed down the toilet.

Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

What I need now is another game of Russian Roulette.

N.

�