What can I say, sometimes?

People who have read my journal at length will probably have one of two impressions of me. Possibly even a third one, which is an uneasy hybrid of the other two. It probably comes as a real surprise to scum like Autism Speaks or the entire passive community that I do, in fact, have a mother.

How I spent the second half of February

(A note before I begin: This entry is going to talk a lot about the goings-on inside an acute-care ward within a mental health facility. For that reason, I am going to use aliases and flat-out mess-ups of names in order to protect anonymity and privacy. Please do not ask me who is who, because even if I do remember, I am not going to tell you. Similarly, if you recognise yourself in these writings and would like to be completely blanked out, feel free to comment.)

An open letter to Playboy magazine (a first-draft effort)

(Note: before we begin, I will be addressing this letter to Hugh Hefner, who as of May 20, 2012, is still listed as Editor In Chief of Playboy magazine. But this letter should be considered directed at every person who works as part of the Playboy empire.)