A long movie night of Zombieland, Goodfellas, 50 Cent, and screenplay worship turns into a confession that I do not even like gore that much anymore, even though disturbing, theatrical violence is still central to my...

Music and half-hidden detours give way to the real public work: a visit to HNB, warnings about hardware risk, irritation at delays and weak local execution, and the growing conviction that the script is still the cleanest...

What begins with There Will Be Blood and stray Twitter sightings turns into a practical question about whether the diary should become YouTube entertainment, or whether writing alone is still the right medium for the project.

The day starts with family hostility, economic despair, and the need to clear December's video backlog, then turns into partner-agreement work, enthusiasm for violent ritualized movie ideas, and long transcript notes about...

New Year's Day is dominated by transcript backlog from the early-December video logs: anger over Priyantha Kumara's murder, Harsha and Seylan complaints, people-you-may-know reconnaissance, security-firm bragging, and a lot...

The visible page starts with pizza, onions, family food memories, and a laugh over small pleasures, then pivots into a blunt policy conclusion that decriminalising and taxing narcotics makes more sense than pouring billions...

The visible page is small but revealing: I covet the title of Grand Master of the Grand Lodge of Sri Lanka, then undercut the swagger by admitting Jacques is supposedly my best friend even though I feel I have never really...

Watched Busted’s “What I Go To School For,” laughed at a singer resembling Sean Samarasinghe, and dropped the timestamped YouTube link

The page mixes campaign fantasy with an evidence dump: Eric Schmidt, a joking 'Lehan for Sri Lanka' run, and then a stack of sourced notes linking Chandrika, Anuruddha Ratwatte, Dhammika Amarasinghe, Baddegane Sanjeewa, and...

An Austrian visitor opens the evening, but the page really settles on stored survival supplies and a long meditation on painting my grandmother, Freemasonry, Harry Potter symbolism, and why that portrait still feels charged...

I let the day escalate into fantasies about controlling the media, striking back, and deciding who deserves mercy, then kept wobbling between aggression and attempts to pull myself back.

The public record is sparse here, which leaves the day feeling more like a held-back page than a fully narrated one, with the omission itself becoming part of the mood.

I kept pushing through a heavy day of a 24-post burst mixed social commentary, business ambition, and I closed it by staying in control and moving my story forward.

I spent the day mixing big defence ambitions, Bohemian-scale self-mythology, customer strategy, and startup arithmetic, trying to turn fantasy, networking, and persistence into something bankable.

I spent the day juggling AC repairs, mouth pain, import and liquor ideas, porn frustration, smoke, and family obligations, while trying to convince myself I was still moving toward a cleaner pivot.

Ron’s silence and the waiting around SIERRA got under my skin, and the day became a mix of virus anxiety, comfort food, family worry, and the private fear that business delay was turning personal.

Kobe’s death was still hanging over everything, and the day folded that grief into fear about the virus, restless posting, and a darker emotional tone that bled straight into the start of February.

Kobe’s death cut the day in half for me, and everything after that moved through grief, shock, posting, and the attempt to process a loss that felt suddenly personal.

Insomnia opened the door to deal schemes, night spirals, and sabotage thinking, with the whole day shaped by overthinking and an inability to switch off.

I started with bank outreach and practical execution, but the emotional tone underneath was still survival, distrust, and the need to keep tightening my position.

The day split between breakdown and business, with almost no real rest as I tried to contain myself emotionally while still handling SIERRA calls and decisions at night.

I pushed myself into bigger dreams about money, faith, and scale while also feeling the strain underneath, as ambition kept colliding with exhaustion and uncertainty.