Bah! I wish I didn't have to get up early tommorrow for exams. I've been itching to go on a PT Anderson binge, starting with Magnolia, all week... If I only had a spare three hours.

I've been listening to "One" by Three Dog Night (original version of the opening song to Magnolia), on repeat, for some time now... Using it as some sick psychotic soundtrack as I study for exams... I'm having a PTA withdrawal, if possible.

And what's worse, is, if this keeps up, I might end up like one of those incurable junkies that roam from city to city, county to county, in a trail of sexual devience, rapping the available victims at the available time. Making mad love to hookers in public utilites, killing them and stowing them behind big rocks and abandoned economy cars in the woods ...Club soda... good for removing those questionable stains...

Sure, it's all fun and games now, but I don't want to know what kind of sick game of dirty-dice sits behind door number two.

Jesus creeping shit! Did I just actually say all of that? Good God, I need a dose of Magnolia now, before someone ends up in a hospital, another in Sing-Sing, and me, somewheres in a defunct southern mid-west pop factory.

"Somebody told me when the bomb hits, everybody in a two mile radius will be instantly sublimated, but if you lay face down on the ground for some time, avoiding the residual ripples of heat, you might survive, permanently fucked up and twisted like you're always underwater refracted. But if you do go gas, there's nothing you can do if the air that was once you is mingled and mashed with the kicked up molecules of the enemy's former body. Big-kid-tested, motherf--ker approved."