<span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 13pt;">From the Diary of Doctor Ignatius:<br/><br/>When I purchased this leather-bound book from one of the street vendors in town, I intended to call it a journal. “Diary” sounds far too feminine for my tastes. It evokes the image of teenage girls so full of angst that it cannot help but spill forth onto the pages before them; the pain in their hearts turns to ink on the paper.<br/><br/>As I carried the empty tome home to the Asylum along with the rest of the odds and ends I purchased that day, it occurred to me that a journal is really nothing more than a shallow record book. “Journal” comes from a Middle English word that means “a service book containing the day’s hours”. It can be traced back to the Latin word “diurnus”, meaning “of the day”. It carries connotations of work and labor as a logbook; a diary, on the other hand, is more closely related to a collection of personal reflections and feelings. The word “diary” comes from the Latin “dies”, meaning “day”. I intended for this book to be a chronicle of my inner thoughts, not a daily record of my external actions.<br/><br/>All of this may sound terribly dull to you-- justifiably so-- but it turns out that “dies” is etymologically related to “diety”. Have I unwittingly sought out this diary as some sort of means of confession? The only priest who risked taking on the onerous role of Asylum Chaplin was poisoned along with five other patients when another patient claiming to be Eris incarnated sprinkled hemlock in the communion wine. When I attempt to attend mass at the church in town, I am barred entry every time, yet still I hike the miles down every Sunday morning to see if the clergy had changed its mind,<br/><br/>My faith and my love for the Lord beckon and beg me to confess my trespasses, yet how can a man excommunicated still commune with his God?<br/><br/>It would seem as though Christ has called me to account for my myriad sins. Why else would He have chosen a book whose very name means “God”? Though it pains me to transcribe my transgressions instead of giving voice to them at long last, I shall do as my Lord wishes. I am naught but His humble servant, and without Him I am less than nothing; still, part of me cannot help but feel as though I am acting as a heretic (besides the majority of me which too often <em><strong>is</strong></em> heretical) for replacing God with a mere book. Should my hidden madness manifest once more, perhaps I will wind up worshipping this book. Can a man pray to paper?<br/><br/>Sacrifices and blood offerings, pagan rites performed at the foot of this book...such are the sinister images that suddenly assault my mind; obviously, the tainted cells of the cancerous tumor on my soul have been allowed to thrive for far too long. It is time for me to expose them to the Sun, the medieval symbol of Divine Illumination. Perhaps in the blessed light of day, they will wither to husks and fall away.</span><br/></span><br/><div style="text-align: right;"> <span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Vivaldi;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 21pt;">Ignatius</span></span></div>