"I Just Don't Know What to Do With Myself"

Dear Diary,
I am listening to the stylings of Burt Bacharach on father's gramophone. Current mood: incredulous. Oh this song gets right to the heart of the matter! Dearest keeper of my musings and mutterings, I don't know what to do with myself...do doo do do. It seems the fates are more than contented to give me vague prophecies and hopes only to dash them against the boulder of ironic hilarity! Last week's festival fiasco was bloody mess; my vest is ruined. I DID lick lady MacD's earlobe, which was some small consolation, but not much.
Diary, I am at a crossroads. I have so many diverging paths of inquiry that I feel overwhelmed by the mere possibility of choosing one over the other! I must approach this in a systematic fashion.

• Figure out the nature/cause of my fits
• Just what does father do for a living?
• Is Young Siward-Gainsville's hand really possessed?
• *side point* does Y.S.G. try to foil my efforts because he is (gag) jealous of my attentions?
• Why does Unca Macbeth love cats so much?
• Does Gilmer really love me, or was she merely seeking more of the "Ambrosia de Malcolm" that was covering my face?
• Would marketing "Ambrosia de Malcolm" be a lucrative business venture?
• Is there a second Gilmer, or was it merely a chappy witch lady?
• Why is there a talking manwich?
• Do I go after my Dulcet darling, Gilmer 1, Gilmer 2, or simply move to Utah and become a Mormon like that creepy chick-lit writer? *Note to self* "Spidermonkey" does not a good pet-name make.
• Why do I feel the compulsion to free myself from my cottony confines everytime I start to think about freeing Tibet?
• Would leaving a plate of poisonous cupcakes around...perhaps in nose-shot of the MacDuff household...be murder in the strictest sense?
• Would that qualify to be put on father's "enemies no more" chart? you know the one that looks like a fundraiser thermometer? Mine is embarrassingly low (actually, I am in the negatives...after I accidentally told Lady Lennox that father was planning to "Off Angus." In my defense I thought that meant he was going to let him go on vacation). Father might be pleased.
• Is Wu-Tang really forever?
• Does the invention of compact discs negate the mystique of the "secret song?"

Oh, Diary, my lines of inquiry are so many...but I believe I can knock at least one off the list. The answer is "Yes, Wu-Tang is forever."

Illily yours,

Y.B.P.M. (a.k.a. Jimmy Analog)

I Feel Funny

My only solace this day is YOU, my dear Diary.

After I stripped to my underoos, tied a shirt around my head, and rushed down the hall shouting "Free Tibet" last night, Father has had me confined to my room until the apparent affects of LovelySugarDelight leave my system.

I fear I shall never see Benson again. But my soul tells me that he, he alone, was REAL and not a fantasy generated by sugar and spice and everything snickerdoodle.

So here I lie, snuggled up on my feather bed cradling you. Oh, if only I were cradling a form slightly more caress-worthy, such as that of my perfect pomegranate, Lady McD. As it stands, rubbing my cheek against your well worn cover shall have to suffice.

Though it's a bit scratchy.

Since I am here for I know not how long, without even the prospect of Blueberry Pancakes to look forward to...EVER AGAIN (GASP!), I thought I might flip through the books that Father lent me.

Oh yes. Father has actually given me ANOTHER present! He gave me a box of what I imagine are the books that changed his life, taught him to be a lion among men, and King to be remembered (especially if he should unexpectedly be bloodily murthered while away at a celebratory post-military victory weekend, or something like that.) I can't begin to express how touched and moved I am that Father would choose to impart these gifts, this wisdom to me.

So, I shall open the Box of Fatherly Affection here with you, my dearest Diary, for I wish you to share in my joy.

DIARY.

I don't exactly know what to say. The books appear to be be a collection of novels. Novels about...NASCAR? And romance.

NASCAR and Romance.

THIS is what Father wants me to read? THIS is what Father wishes me to learn from? Surely this is yet another cruel joke. If Father hadn't hadn't handed them to me myself saying "For goddsakes, get some action" I would be convinced it was another of Young Siward's tricksy tricks.

Well, I don't wish to doubt him. Nor do I wish to scoff at a gift from Father, since they are so infrequent.

Let's see...this one is called "Rigid Tire Iron".

Diary. I'm not sure exactly what a "double entendre" is, but I think this might be a genuine one!

......

OMG! DIARY. I think it's been 7 hours.

I've just finished "Checking The Undercarriage" and I can't decide if I like that one, "Bright Headlights" or "Fully Engaged Emergency Break Lever" best.

Diary, the things I have read! I feel more a man than ever! After Chapter 3 of "Gear Shift" I knew that I'd found the key to winning the heart, and the "chassis" (wink, wink!) of my Pit Crew Princess!

Diary, I must put you to rest for a small time while I finish "Oil Change". Be still my heart, what wonders await me among its pages!

Revving my engine,

Y.B.P.M.