5th May 1890
I swear that painting is looking at me funny. How do I know? Because I started it. I looked at it funny first.
This house is huge. It’s like I know where every room is, like I’ve seen it in a dream. It’s so full of… things I recognize.
Wait, hang on. It’s my house. Lol.
6th May 1890
Some weird guy keeps leaving me messages on my machine about pigs. Maybe he’s a farmer. A farmer without customers. Or maybe he works at McDonald’s, who knows?
Well, I know.
And I’m not gonna tell myself anything.
I don’t know that.
7th May 1890
There is so much symbolism on the walls, and on the tables, and near the chairs and under the floor and on the ceiling of this place. I get it. People are jerks sometimes, they can be pigs.
Wait, does that make me a pig? Am I a guy or a girl, I can’t tell… what’s the feminine of “pig”? Piguette?
8th May 1890
Found a pig. Not exactly a big surprise.
Tried cooking it. Couldn’t find a source of fire. I would soooo go for a burrito right now.
9th May 1890
I can’t believe I had all this money to build all this stuff, instead of making another Disneyland. Can you imagine, dear Diary, how awesome that would’ve been?
Where’s the fridge in this bloody house?! I haven’t eaten in 5 days.
Oh look, another pig.
If only I could live on symbolism alone.