I am sure today is not the ninth day of the month i am not even sure if today is Friday....i seem to recollect that mothers day in England was was  falling on Sunday the 10th of March, as i left for the Far East which makes the date seem somewhat strange. What i do know is that i am sitting in the mother of all bug huts here on the island of Leyte, in this cubicle painted in the darkest black and would make a sado gasp, the reflection from the screen almost blinds my vision towards these keys, i have to hold up the key board to the light seeping from the tiny widow in the door the heat is causing rivers to collect in my hobnailed boots.
One of my e-mail accounts has been locked simply because i cannot remember the answer to my secret question...the price one pays for the underworld of being a transvestite, yet i can sit here and smile knowing at least there is cold chardonnay in the fridge where i am resting my head for the demons to work on, when the day is withdrawn and i babble to myself, i am also thankful i could remember the password for bichoose never again will i become lazy and be fall into the clutches of save the password prompts it has taken me almost three days to seep it from the dark corners of my crazy mind.So goeth