E-P-I-S-T-O-L-A-R-Y N-O-V-E-L. Yeah, that's it, and no spell check either. Ms. Morgan made reference to this literary genre during Language Arts. Of course R.A. had to shoot up her hand and show off how smart she is and explain that an epistolary novel is made up with a bunch of documents. SUCK UP! Yeah, we get it...Bram Stoker...yawn...journal logs...letters...diary entries...yeah, okay, Ms. Wikipedia, who does your hair -- tu abuelita? -- cos that "style" was popular in the sixties, OKAY! And yes, during recess, I did race down to the library and check out the last copy. Mañana, you'll have some competition.
Ouch, meow, someone's channeling their inner cat today. Sorry, R.A., I take back the insult you never received (Do thoughts count?). Actually, people probably say the same thing about me in math. I'm brilliant at it...and modest, too. Yep, I'm the girl who's always first with her hand up with the correct answer. So go ahead, Rebecca, you have my blessing to insult me in your diary. I'm like that Tracy Chapman song, "Baby I got your number(s)," theorems, equations, formulae. It's like they supernaturally appear in my head. I even have π memorized to one hundred places past the decimal. I DO! Dios mio: 3.1415926535897323846...happy now, or shall I continue?
What does any of this have to do with an epistolary novel? Yo no se. Now, I'm going to have to invent the unified diablog theorem where the disjointed rants of a teenage girl all come together. Hmm...
The journals/letters of (Jonathan Harker + Miss Mina Murray + Miss Lucy Westenra + Dr. Seward) divided by pie (there's some cherry left over in the fridge) = one fine afternoon of reading.
Dear Diablog,
I'll get back to you.
Forever Yours,
Yvette
the pie was funny
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