May 16, 2006
Today I'm in Arkham, in which way today is quite a bit like yesterday. Which was sorta remarkably similar to the day before that. I've gotta say that, on the replay value scale, Arkie's about a minus five outta ten. And that's not even counting group therapy. Man, the head psychologist has a total Oedipal complex. I could psychoanalyze any of the chumps they got working here under the table.
The worst thing about ole Arkie, though, is that whenever I come back, I never get the same cell I had when I left. This is, like, my home away from home (home being Mr J!). You know what I mean? This different-cell-every-time business is kinda like having a different bedroom every time you come home for the holidays, only in this case home features electroshock therapy (which I admit makes me feel nicely tingly) and Freudian analysis (and don't even get me started on that! Total gross-out.) I asked my doctor if he could move me back into my old cell, seein's how I'm in here so often, but he said he didn't think having a permanent residence in Arkie would be sending me the right message about my chances for recovery. I explained about the HARLEY LOVES MR J I carved into the wall, but he remained unmoved.
Oh, pooh. It took me three weeks and I'm kinda suspecting that Red- that's who he says got the room right now- isn't gonna appreciate my DELICATE ARTISTIC SUBTLETIES as much as I do. The cell I got now kinda smells funny, and I think Magpie musta had it before me, cause I keep on finding little tinfoil balls hidden in the mattress. Man, this sucks! I don't even have Outside Privileges yet, which means until I'm allowed to work in the garden, no consolations from Red. Blaaah.
If I don't write tomorrow, so you know, I unfortunately probably will still be in Arkham.
LOVE, HARLEY