This is not the end, merely another beginning, a milestone in a long series of strange ups and downs that I can no longer categorize or even make sense of. Once again I find myself trapped in this tiny sweaty pit of a chamber, more of a jail cell than a bedroom. My prison walls are lined with garish images of sex and sick fantasy come to life, and my companion in all this, as always, is the notorious Mr. Grant, a brilliant drug addict and a total madman with a penchant for irresponsibility and odd comedy. Our journeys and adventures are of the chemical variety, the roadways paved in creepy pills and exotic herbs. I find myself growing weary of these trips, as the distance is growing shorter by the day, with my only hope for salvation lying within escape. If only a temporary one, of course. My indulgent personality doesn't allow for a permanent cease and desist, but I can try my damndest. Perhaps if nothing else, I can at least make my days more interesting as they go on.