I am writing my obligatory diary entry. . . Yes, it is obligatory. . . I don't know why, but it is. . . lol. . .

Um. . . Writing for the pure joy of writing again. . . Whatever tha means. . . hehe. . .

And with so little to be said, very much will be proclaimed!

Go bhfios dúinn coitianta, mé scríobh i mo dialann do níl ciall. . .

Yay for [YHWH]'s diary!

And this too. . .

This, too, is in [YHWH]'s diary!

This is in [YHWH]'s diary. . .

Hey!

Hi!

Hello!

Hei!

Groeten! (I think that is right. . .)

Yo!

The above are greetings (as if you couldn't have guessed that yourself). Anyway, I am greeting no one in particular, just the collective, "you."

More, more, more, more words being pointlessly written. . .

. . . And death came and swiftly lifted the spirits of the newly dead to the next World. . .

The above statement has absolutely no meaning what so ever. I could have just said, "What for and king the sat with wrong left," and it would have more purpose! Sheesh. . . Um. . . Well. . . Yeah. . .

A hair on a hare jumped down my throat yesterday. I forgot to put that in my diary, so I am putting it in todat. . . Does anyone even read this anyway? Well, even if they don't, there is the (albeit small) possibility that someone in the very distant future will find my writings and think I was some sort of philosopher of my time. Well, that whole theory is based precariously on the thought that people in the future will have the same logic as we do today. . .

Haba-gaba! That doesn't mean anything yet. . . It might not ever mean anything, but who really cares? I don't even think anyone reads this. . .

I haven't written in my diary in two days. . . I think. . .

Wabble to gotu gerb.

(That means: Wabble to gotu gerb.)

To waste your time, I have decided to write a little bit more.

I was just eaten by a pig named Herman. . . Wow, that seemed almost random! Hm. . .