What begins with TV and actor mix-ups gradually becomes a bakery-and-branding page, where cake textures, directing jokes, study habits, and the need to process heavy material all become part of how I think about product and...

A note “for Daniel Lewin” framed the writing as strongly anti-ISIS, imagining he could read it from anywhere. The night’s soundtrack was a pub-choir “Tubthumping,” landing on “you’re never gonna keep me down.”

The visible day is only two emoticons posted fifteen minutes apart: surprise first, then disappointment.

The public page is short but revealing: a fantasy about riding in Biden's limousine and an open admission that, in art at least, I still prefer the most depraved and disturbing material.

This is a weapons-and-flight page: steel-foundry inheritance, Israeli drills, Operation Eagle, fighter planes, Halo, Crimson Skies, and the satisfying discovery that Top Gun Maverick still rhymes with the games and...

The page moves through war music, Texas barbecue fantasies, cricket heroes, ad people, deputy jokes, and American food/media references, all while feeling like a running exercise in deciding who belongs near the future...

I announce that I need to write the book instead of this diary for a while, then spend the visible page thinking through the brand itself: the website, the mood, the feel, and whether the future should be called PD or AP.

The public page is a stack of songs and longing, but the center is clear: a stylized, half-hidden fixation on Marianne and the pain of imagining life, age, and separation with or without me in it.

This is a loose film day, but the visible center is clear enough: Al Pacino admiration, respect for ruthless business instinct, and pleasure in a movie whose cast, dialogue, cinematography, and humour still work.

The visible page ties survivor's guilt, remembered violence, business sabotage, and family disloyalty together into a defense of my anger, especially toward the people who stayed close to those who hurt me.