April 7: So this is the journal I’m supposed to be writing, as prescribed by my latest therapist. I hope it helps, but I have to be honest, I doubt it will. I WANT TO STOP EATING EVERYONE! That’s it! That’s all I want! I’ve been through, what, five therapists? And I’ve eaten three of them. I can’t form any meaningful relationships with anyone, because sooner or later, CHOMP. It’s got to stop. I’m nervous because summer is coming up. Maybe this summer will be different.
May 2: This summer will be different. THIS SUMMER MUST BE DIFFERENT!
May 12: How could the summer be different? I’m a SHARK. A GREAT WHITE SHARK. A nonstop killing machine! NO! No. I am in control here. Biology is not destiny. I have to think positively. I can be any nonstop machine I want to be. A nonstop caring machine. A nonstop nurturing machine.
May 31: Tourists are showing up. I ate kelp and seaweed today. I’ve read, like, three books this week just to keep my mind off things. Jacqueline Susann. Better than I expected.
June 14: OK. Deep breath. I’m ashamed to even be writing this. But I fell off the wagon BIG TIME. It was night, and I was swimming around (I don’t sleep), and I thought everything would be fine because what human would be out in the ocean at night? Then this lady shows up swimming around. Naked! I see that, and I’m thinking, No nylon swimsuits, no goggles to deal with, just dinner. I was so disgusted with myself that I couldn’t even eat all of her.
June 23: Guilt does funny things to a shark. When I feel guilty about something (like, oh, EATING A WOMAN!), I start to hate myself. When I start to hate myself, I engage in self-destructive behavior.
June 26: There’s no doubt about it: I’m spiraling. Almost sank a boat today. Ate the captain. Most of him, anyway. Started innocently enough. I saw the boat out there on the water, and I remembered what I’d read in a self-help book: “Use your tongue instead of your teeth.” I figured I could swim up and talk to the guy about my issues. Then, before I know it, he’s whapping me on the nose, which is NOT COOL, and one thing led to another … I need to remember that it’s not enough to want to reach people. I have to understand how I’m coming across to them as well.
July 4: Ate another dude. Maybe I was still mad at the boat captain. Or mad at my mother who birthed me and then just swam away. Or mad at myself.
July 7: They’re coming for me. I see their boat. Looks like there’s an old sea captain, a sort of wild-eyed young researcher, and Roy Scheider on it. I’m going to them. One way or another, we’re going to end this thing.
Read more pop-culture correspondences in John Moe’s book, Dear Luke, We Need to Talk, Darth.
Just found the worst page in the entire dictionary. What I saw was disgraceful, disgusting, dishonest, and disingenuous.
Client: We need you to log in to the YouTube and make all our company videos viral.
My cat just walked up to the paper shredder and said, “Teach me everything you know.”
“Just because you can’t dance doesn’t mean you shouldn’t dance.” —Alcohol
@yoyoha (Josh Hara)
My parents didn’t want to move to Florida, but they turned 60 and that’s the law.
Q: What do you call an Amish guy with his hand in a horse’s mouth?
A: A mechanic.