I've been here for over a week now, it's really a cross between boring and stressful. Boring, because I spend most of my time in this small room, partly stressful because there is a whale outside of my window that's always watching me. I told Murdoc about it, for some reason I didn't thin he knew; not only does he know, he put it there. Lovely, isn't it? I confess to him one of my fears and he uses it to torment me, he tells me all of his stupid fears and I respect him. I was way too nice to him. He seriously left me down here for a couple of days without telling me anything, then he sends the stupid sex bot version of Noodle down to 'retrieve' me and drag me up to the living room. Did I mention he looks weird?

Okay he's always looked weird, but I mean weirder than usual. Like his eyes are both brown, which is weird...Kind of pretty actually, like it's really creepy how fucked up he is but his eyes don't match it all that well...He's got this weird look now where it's a cross between healthy and dead, he used to just look middle aged, under fed, and drunk. He's different looking, but every time I'm away from him and we meet again he always looks different. I also think he looks good and if he hadn't kidnapped me and wasn't forcing to me to stay here then I might stare at him or talk to him about things that happened the last time that we saw each other. I really don't like the thought of trying to talk to him though, I don't know if that would be possible. He's so fucking drunk and stoned all of the time, somehow worse than back when the band was together. Like he was rarely sober then, now he's never sober. He keeps saying he thinks more clearly when he's drunk and when he takes that pill with that tab of acid he sees some real wicked shit and I really should try it just once. He thinks it's completely stupid that I don't do drugs or drink anymore, he says I'm like one of those washed up middle aged glam rockers who gets clean, gains weight, and talks about Jesus. I told him he looks like a dead junkie who was too messed up to even make it as a rocker, he ignored me.

He told me he 'brought' me here to help him make a new album. I started laughing and asked if he was fucking nuts. He said he would have done it all on his own and actually he wrote all of the songs all on his own after the break up and spending some time on this little floating hell hole for awhile. He would have apparently done the vocals and the bass, but his voice isn't right...or as I suggested it's because he sounds like a dying cat when he sings...Okay not really, I mean that's what I told him cause I still am really fucking pissed off at him, but he actually sounds really fucking brilliant when he sings. God knows I refuse to say that to him, it'd make him too happy. He doesn't need his fucking ego strokes anymore than it already is. He told me he made the robot to do the whole guitar thing and well to be like a bodyguard and do all of the interviews he's too hung over or busy to do. I asked why in hell it had to look like Noodle and he said it just made sense, doesn't it?

I told him I'm not helping him with shit, because I rather slit my own throat if it meant getting the hell away from him. He didn't get as pissed as I thought that he would when I told him that, he sort of just got quiet for a second and looked I guess a bit hurt that I hate being near him that much, but it passed and a second later he was rambling again.

It ended with him saying he'd just keep me down in that stinking room of mine until I agree to help him out instead of acting like a little brat about every little thing. He said I'm no fun anymore and he prefers the drug and alcohol addicted me who was panicky and twitchy and much more of an idiot.

Shocking thing is when I got back to this crappy little room I found several prescription pill bottles laying on the foot of the bed. I wonder who the fuck put these here? I'm not taking them, I'm better than that. He can go back to Hell for all I care.