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Entry 3-9-02 (originally written 3-12-01)
The varnish comes off.

I know what I want to be, but I don't know what that is. I know what I want, but I don't know what it's called when you have those things. I want to be loved and hated and feared and lusted after by millions. I want to arouse great passion in everybody. I want people to debate whether I'm a genius or a fraud. I want people to be disgusted and aroused and fascinated by me.

I want to put my thoughts in their heads. I want to grab their souls and pull them in bodily. No matter how they feel about me I want them listening... I want them to know who I am, almost as much as I wish I knew who I was. I want them to be there when I figure it out. And I want them all to understand the consequences for them when I do.

When this happens, even those who hate me will understand that they are mine, because they are tied to me by their emotions, just as those who love me are. And if they don't I'll explain it to them. And if I'm lucky they won't believe me. Or I'll simply tell them 'You're mine,' and let them react to it, get all the more angry at me, and ensnare themselves further.

I fully expect that the first blood spilled will be my own, really.

To me the world is full of monsters... at once I want to be the kind of monster I see around me, the finest example of that, and yet I also want to be a real monster, because while I find human beings horrible I also find them pathetic in that way... they just kind of stumble into evil without really knowing what they're doing or why. Our society simultaneously reviles and worships monsters, so I don't think it's a misstep to become one.

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