...mighty fine only got you somewhere half the time...

I am so clever and witty, that I think how is this possible? How can so much inherent genius fit inside this tiny Persian frame? And I don't understand, but I think it's because my mom is a really really nice lady, and was blessed. With me. Is what I'm implying.

My brain feels bruised and violated, and in my mind has the appearance of fried mash. I think about this paper, and the convoluted mess that are my arguments and I want to cry.

To make myself feel better, I am wearing a mini-skirt today.