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Monday - 11:38 p.m.

Right now I'm at Mitchell's house using his computer because there's something wrong with mine.

I don't know quite what's wrong with my laptop; it's not broken; it's just acting oddly.

I came over to Mitchell's originally to find Calvin Walker and fight him; but found out from Mitchell that Calvin Walker and the rest of his bandmates, (who are also his roommates), have been up at the casino in Windsor since last Wednesday. Apparently, they watched the remake of Ocean's Eleven and are now trying to "knock over" a casino. They chose Windsor because in Wolfgang's words, "Canadians aren't allowed to shoot at anything that isn't a moose."

This means Mitchell's roommates, (who are also his bandmates), have an alibi and are not the ones who broke into my apartment.

Now I don't know how I'm going to track down whoever did break-in. I have enough trouble trying to find the necessary amount of time to devote to the search for the ones who killed my parents.

Today, before I went into the record store that I work at part-time, I spoke to my landlady about my front door. She told me that she wouldn't be able to have a repairman over until Thursday at the earliest and that I should either continue to crawl in and out of my kitchen window, or go "put on some new panties." Then she flicked her cigarette at me.

My landlady is not what they call a "people person."

I'd stay at Mitchell's house tonight, but his house is really creepy. I'd go and crash at Elkie's, but her cat hates me. Staying with Gerald is not an option. I did that once a while ago when he was living with this girl named Peyton, and when I woke up, I was in a bamboo cage and men wearing black pajamas were poking at me with sharpened sticks.

It's not like I'm going to be able to sleep anyhow, I haven't really slept since Thursday. I just don't want to be outside all night long.

I guess I'm just going to have to suck it up and go home and sit in the stillness.

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