John just left. John, Lake and I sat around the table writing in our respective notebooks occasionally engaging in conversation. I had a couple drinks, vodka and very green soda. Next week we will go over to John's for movies.

My typing seems to be off. The reader will not notice, because Deborah is anally correcting everything I type.

I wanted to get some things down on paper before we start taking our new meds tonight. I'm worried that we'll lose our creative spark if we don't. The following poem chronicles the events of a brief moment in the small hours of autumn when I was homeless living in Western Massachusetts about 8 years ago.

Paths in the Corn dark alone 3am between days walking the wind the stars the corn cool hints of cow dung dark figure distant watchful closer closer I know this I know that look I know those eyes faster I've been here before a hundred times darkness friend and foe I can not stop no home to run to no person to cry to I am the prey I am the hunted instinct takes over must escape no thinking just survival salty sweat see everything contrast exaggerated headlights against dark fields fences blocking paths in the corn foot steps ever quicker decaying leaves truck blows gale of exhaust focus running across the highway traffic swerves burnt rubber hangs in the air I look back angry voices fly from car windows only notice me while I'm in their way predator gone fled too much commotion I survive this time

I just convinced Lake that I should wait a couple days before starting the Risperdal. She was against the idea at first, but she came around. I told her I wanted to wait so we could write poetry. I'm finally at a point where I like the poetry I write. I haven't written that much poetry in the past, because I didn't like my own poetry. At the moment I can write the Risperdal is threatening to take it away. Just a few days. I have so much to do other than write in those days. I have to keep up with the normal household chores, attempt to find a roommate, and sort the junk in the big room (at this point, most of it will simply go in the trash). I'll be busy, but it'll be good for me.

I have a horrible cramp in my neck and right shoulder. I woke up with it. I took acetaminophen about 45 minutes ago to no avail. It hurts to turn my head.

I don't feel properly awake yet. Most probably, because I have yet to make myself coffee. I will do that with haste, at least with as much haste as I can muster.

We grown tired of our collective name. We go by "Beverly" or the "Central Group [of Beverly]" when referring to all of us. Neither really fits us. Maybe "the Neitherday Collective" or just "Neitherday" or something else would be better. Currently it's just a online alias we use, but it could be more. We could also try to come up with something more "normal" sounding than "Neitherday", as Lake thinks if we use a name of that sort, we'll end up being called "Lampshade".

We'd of course still use "Beverly" for legal matters. Maybe it would be simpler to just keep "Beverly" in general. We've used "Beverly" for so long. Even if we changed it, many would still call us "Beverly, and that would be okay. We're confortable with "Beverly", just maybe there might be a better, more fitting name. This requires much more thought.

I just ate some potato chips (Lay's Bistro Applewood BBQ & Smoked Cheddar, yum!). Enough to feel slightly full, but right now I don't feel the overwelming guilt. I just feel a slight tinge of guilt, no near enough to drive me to purge. I'm so excited. I don't know what it is but yesterday and today, I've just started feeling better. All of us have. Some chemical thing, maybe. I don't know, and I don't care. It's wonderful. We've decided that we look great now, and as long as we keep our weigh around 180lbs (185lbs max) we will be fine. And if we do go over 185, a normal diet should suffice. I've totally stopped counting calories. I don't get it. Just last week I was limiting myself to 1500 calories a day and the slightest drop over that would trigger a purging episode. Again, I don't know what's changed and I don't care.

The joyous odor of cannabis is wafting in through the window. Someone nearby is partaking of the wondrous herb. I want some. I want some. I want some.