Monday, January 23, 2012

Day One-Twenty-Six: From mouth to hand

Greetings, diary! I've heard a lot about you over the last couple of months, and gods know that I've seen you enough times, but I've never had the chance to look inside you. That Dragomir is such a stringent young man when it comes to privacy.

I should introduce myself. I am Robert the Librarian, caretaker of the largest collection of periodicals, novels and non-fiction literature in Castle WhatHappenedToMyDamnMoat. I've been tutoring Dragomir on the finer points of maintaining a daily account of one's life, and I can tell by the bulk of this volume that he hasn't put my lessons to waste. I'm so proud of him!

But enough about me. Dragomir's wife, Libertine, has asked that Dragomir's closest friends each take turns writing in his diary, so no page goes unfilled. He's already so stressed about a two-week period worth of pages that remain mysteriously blank, no matter how much ink you apply to the parchment, and we wouldn't want to drive him any closer to the brink than he already is. (Oh, dear, I ended a sentence with 'is!' And I suppose I did it again. I'm so sorry, Dragomir!)

I agreed to take the final day of the week, but Libby's illiteracy forces me to write while she dictates. I do believe this is her first visit to the library - she looks quite bewildered, surrounded in books. Perhaps I have another student-in-waiting on my hands?

Enough from kooky old Robert. Take it away, Libertine!


I am Libby.

Don't call me Libertine, I hate that name. It's dumb.

Today, I changed the sheets on the bed. And I fed Dragomir some soup. And I gave him some water. And I made sure Dragomir had lots of quilts, because he was really cold when he came out of the water.

He won't wake up. I punched him in the nose but he still won't wake up. The doctor says he will be okay, but he won't wake up.

Maybe if I bring our daughter to the apartment, she can wake him up. But I don't want to see that bitch. I don't trust her.

I went to work. I did stuff with wood. I do stuff with wood every day. Maybe I can make a cure for Dragomir out of wood.

That makes me sound retarded.

Why is this guy's head so huge?

Stop writing, I'm do

Yes! Well, that was informative. And insulting. (I should have stopped before we got to the size of my noggin.) Thank you, Libertine, that's a page filled and a day finished. She will return tomorrow for an encore, and then I'll pass the book off to my namesake in the kitchen for a second round. We haven't gotten anybody for Friday yet, but we will, just you wait!


Robert the Librarian


  1. I had no idea Libby's name was Libertine...
    Dragomir had better hope she doesn't learn to read (what with the entries in his diary...).

  2. Hahahaha, I'd love to see more of Libby's or "Libertine's" input into the diary (Her and Robert make a funny duo).

    (Word Of Day: 'lizest' "Living in a forest full of Lizards tends to get a bit limiting on my diet. I'm so sick of eating nothing but Lizard meat, though recently I tried inventing a new type of salad made of leafs, twigs, and my new LIZest's not as good as it sounds...")

  3. In a bizarre aside that I TOTALLY didn't know about until a few seconds ago, there's a British punk singer who goes by the name Eve Libertine:

    Totally a coincidence, though I should have probably claimed otherwise.

  4. Coolio, that was a awesome coincidence and what-not.