No - just regular-type.

I haven't changed one of my clocks back, and so it's like I'm living an hour ahead of myself or exactly with myself depending on which one I look at.

That's boring.

Why would I want to buy this book when I have journalfuls of the same type of stuff, minus the raging teen sexuality and plus latent teen sexuality? The excerpt published on Salon a couple days ago reminded me really what it was like to be in high school, something I'm not entirely sure I wanted to be reminded of. It hurt, but so familiarly. Makes you wonder what all of that feeling is good for, other than being successfully felt.

Now is a time of uncomfortable, subtle negotiations. Potential hurt feelings abound. Hidden hurt feelings abound. The surprising gap between the reality of the situation and the imagined, mirroring my mother's, eliciting empathy later than what would have been helpful. Fucking holidays.

My teeth are rotting and my eyes are going bad even worse.