Somewhere between too healthy and too sick

Man goes to the doctor. Says he's depressed. Says life seems harsh and cruel. Says he feels all alone in a threatening world, where what lies ahead is vague and uncertain. Doctor says: "Treatment is simple. Great clown Pagliacci is in town tonight. Go and see him. That should pick you up." Man bursts into tears. Says "But doctor..."
"...I am Pagliacci"

Have I used that joke before? Not sure. Moving right along,

The paxil seems to be working, but there's no sure way to tell. My sleep is not improved. A few hours a night, waking with the aid of excessive caffeine. And randomly at night waves of drowsiness does overtake me. It's nice. On the old seroquel formula I could time it for a good night's sleep. Thank God I can sleep in tomorrow. The books for this semester are a crime. I could have bought a car. Not a new car, but one that would run, for a while anyways. Everything is making me cry. Too happy, too sad, overwhelmed by beauty, overwhelmed by ugliness. Rachel brought up in me from mere phone conversations a religious experience. I don't want to talk too much about it. But, I...I'm doubting my atheism.

I want this thingy as a tattoo. On the middle right finger. Darker too.



Watching and re-watching Watchmen stuff. Keep breaking into tears.

A small girl has entered the clique on campus. She depresses me somehow. Tiny and seemingly innocent yet with a streak of vibrant red. Like Early Katie with pretender Tashi. I don't like this new girl. She invokes things in me I do not like.