~...amuse gueule~*~amuse ghoul...~

In relating the circumstances which have led to my confinement within this refuge for the demented, I am aware that my present position will create a natural doubt of the authenticity of my narrative...

That said, I tip my hat to the Master of Mad Ends and Long Adjectives: Thank you for making my childhood that much stranger. Speaking of horror, I have to A) finish the show paintings this week or admit defeat and B) start pounding my research into a palatable thesis for the Headmaster. Sure, it'd be nice if that research was something more than polluted hearsay and recycled biology notes, but--

Also, both Dr. Quinn and Kostya called last weekend. It's becoming a cozy little tradition, really, them calling and me not answering and all of us pretending Halcyon was my personal decision. (It was a choice, there’s a difference.) I warned Kostya that if Josiah calls I’d put my cellphone in the microwave. Tori, though…her, I miss talking with.

Sometimes this feels so much harder than I thought it would.


[taped outside Sasha's door]

( P.O.L.A.R.O.I.D.s )

( PRIVATE: Excerpt from e-mail to Dr. Gideon Quinn )

Because everyone knows you’re only well-adjusted if you’ve got the Polaroids to prove it, here’s the latest tithe to Dr. Quinn.
( C'est une tempete dans un verre d'eau. )

Forced perspectives are tiring. I like Proust’s remedy: a spoonful of tea with a softened piece of madeleine. Tea helps prepare for the inevitable “all in your head” ruling. (Of course, it is. Where else would I keep it?)

There are always two people in every picture: the photographer and the viewer. (Ansel Adams)

In other words: Dr. Quinn sent me a camera.

( [left in the Zephyr CR] )

( [taped outside Sasha's door] )