Chopped Hog & Spam

Today is a sad day for me, hypomania forgotten with my illness revealed. Today Bill Warren sent me a rather devastating put-down of the fucking Hog. Mostly, he knows the real Invisible Hog, & feels that, in its current form, the story would violate too many people's trademarks, from the True Hog down to the motorcycle company for him to work on it in "its present form". I spent 2 hours this morning drafting a reply in which I revealed my mental illness & questioned why he wants to return my WordPerfect to me. Most of the "problems" could be fixed with the word-replace key, & screw the Hog, he's a minor author, anyway.

I also sent Bill a lot of stuff about Mindstorm, as it already contains the Hog, but not in the form that it's in in the comic book.

Car-girl agreed to take me out around 3:00 (she rescheduled because of her karaoke contest). I printed up Bill's letter to show her, but am mostly going to hang out around home & watch DVDs.

Yesterday was our "official" anniversary so we ordered out a sausage stuffed crust pizza after Car-girl & I returned from buying Trish a car wash kit at K-mart. I had another of the damn oculogyric crises -- Car-girl said it wasn't, but she didn't look closely enough -- & the Xanax did very little. Fuck the Hog & Scientology. My mind needs the Mindstorms quelled. Trish is my ocean of tranquility, but now she's going thru some kind of anxiety attacks about work.

I feel miserable. I wish I could sail the darkened sea in a great big submarine.