--One really nice sensory blip is dealing cards. One rubbed against another feels like grainy satin, and laid down they let out a satisfying Thwack.

--I�m relentlessly conscious of my stomach.
The stomach is a genetically sable washed peach, fuzzied, with one single dark hair sprouting just below the navel. It can look bulbous from above, but around the cage there�s only skin. When I lay flat, everywhere concaves beneath it like someone�s placed a paperweight there. My hands fin at the base of the cage, kneading down and away- a vain effort to aid digestion and rid myself of the excess padding I�ve never had, but now have and loathe.
Compliments have been paid to my belly button a few times, and though appreciative, can�t fully agree, as all navels are mildly heinous to me.

--This weekend (NAME) ruffled the hair at the crown of my head, and (NAME) kissed me at the temple. Touching my head and hair may seem like an innocent gesture, but it�s secretly a palpable jolt between the legs. It doesn�t matter who you are.

--Scrolling quickly through a dense word file, the text starts to look like roving ant armies�and then your eyes glaze over.

--HALLOWEEN COSTUME: Hester Prynne- fantastically gold embroidered velvet �A� pinned to chest, Scarlet.

--I have never played solitaire this long without winning.

--Am full today with rage and annoyance. One quarter of one side of my belly is visibly upraised.

--�An entire class of susceptibilities, and a gift connected with them--of no great richness or value, but the best I had--was gone from me.� NH�s eloquent summation of what I mean to express with: �I feel dead.�

--A lazy person is unattractive to me. Those who romanticize lethargy and place some kind of specialness on the easy lifestyle, I�m not buying it. When I try to fathom the thought process, I feel gross. This is judgmental.

--Without this interior reflex, nothing amuses me or feels personal.

--Accidental word combo: Secred- something that is both secret and sacred.

--I caved and bought a Kombucha. It made me feel drunk.

--Monthly it takes:
4 Hours of therapy,
15 Hours of TM,
21 Hours of bodily prep,
12 Hours of physical exercise
to raise Rachael.

--Accidental parody- While my green tea, gently steeps.

--Reading e-books is a bit like solving a Magic Eye. Looking directly at the screen is distracting, but if you focus past the text and visualize, you can see the story.

--Deflated. It didn�t occur to me that �desperate� was a relevant term in situations suited for emotional frankness. I only ever meant to expose the pathetic sort of vulnerability this stirs in me- because I thought I could, and it would count.
Which may be, by definition, desperate. I can�t care.

--If I ever patented a font, maybe it�s cheesy, but I�d call it �Shadow Box�.

--Yesterday I became just bodily unaware enough to realize that I am almost constantly licking the backs of my teeth in horizontal motions. This, in part, is maybe why my enamel is so shoddy�one more thing to worry.