The last living boy in America drops into my bedroom only he wants to be a monk. I think that pretty much sums up my life.

Carlos was probably somewhere warm, eating three meals a day, and sleeping in a real bed. That was the life

This morning the electricity came on for a few minutes, and when it did, Jonny said, "Hey, it's a black-on." This is what passes for humor around here.

Sometimes the rules don't work. Sometimes the rules cause the anarchy.

I wonder if I cry whether my tears would be gray.

I guess I always felt even if the world came to an end, McDonald's would still be open.

I'm the one not caring. I'm the one pretending the Earth isn't shattering all around me because I don't want it to be. I don't want to know there was an earthquake in Missouri. I don't want to know the Midwest can die, also, that what's going on isn't just tides and tsunamis. I don't want to have any more to be afraid of. I didn't start this diary for it to be a record of death.