Doors

I'm beginning to wish that I'd taken my dad up on his offer to go home over spring break.  I would love some pizza right now from Frank's, and maybe a hot dog from the vendors too.

[Text: Andrew M/Bianca T]

What are you doing for Easter?

[Text: Blake/Bianca T]

How's my favorite cousin?

[The following is written in black ink, with a borderline illegible script. It's the writing of a man who so to speak, did not give a fuck what Sister Edward Michael Joseph said about his handwriting.]

These things should come with manuals. There's only so much piecing together one can do about reading these things. Do the voices you all hear take over that often? It's made me a bit more thankful that mine doesn't talk much unless it's about that damned door.

Ignore the above question and let's get a more serious one. I'm out of reading material and the only books in the Venetian's store, I wouldn't touch with a ten foot pole. Where's a good old fashioned Annie's? Hell, I'll take a Barnes and Noble even.

Seeing as the invitations are pouring in, if we go through a door that belongs to someone else, who goes? Us or our dashing alter egos?

I've had the worst headache since the last full moo

Does anyone know a good cure for headaches besides a nice cigarette?

(Kit's handwriting is small, a good mixture of cursive and print. It's relatively nice and mostly legible.)

I wonder - who's out there? Whose words are those that appear, as if by magic, in the pages of this strange, old journal? I feel like Harry Potter, reading Tom Riddle's diary. I only hope that this thing isn't a horcrux. I don't have the patience to stamp out pieces of someone's soul.

[Public]

I understand a great deal of Las Vegas has better things to do, but at the encouragement of Remus I'll be starting an all-lady book club. This is to learn more about the source work of characters roaming around in our brain and an excuse to get drunk and pretend to talk about books. I'll add the incentive of meeting occasionally at the cat ranch so I can show off my favorite tigers.

[Private to Blake T.]

Seems like the door is open for business. Was wondering if you wanted to come with me.

How many of you actually followed the instructions on this thing and went to a condemned building at midnight on Monday at the behest of an invisible author?

I'm not much of one for Darwinian theory, but it didn't seem like a good idea to me.

If I get another personality, can I name her Sibyl? I can have a dark me to blame all my stupid crap on. It'll be great.