Hosted Thilanga and Samadara, brewed french-press coffee, then returned to coding. Later I listed dream seatmates, riffing about Leia and Trump A grounded day with relatives, airplane-seat fantasies, and then a jolt of...

A furious response to the Trump rally shooting, centred on Secret Service betrayal, the sniper they should have stopped, and the belief that only family can really protect him now.

Shame over Balachandran and Halo nostalgia open the day, but the real page is a long comic story about HSBC, signature checks, detention glory, forged paperwork, family reputation, and why handwriting, image, and bad-boy...

What starts as a small health scare over a red mark on my foot opens into a much darker page about exhaustion, distrust of local generic drugs, the need for legal help, anger at Daminda and the failed setup, and the...

The whole day rides on 99 Luftballons, with NENA doing all of the emotional work.

The day turns personal scarcity into a political judgment: too little food, too much dependence, too much delay, and a hard insistence that what has happened to Sri Lanka is mainly a leadership failure that the country...

The day starts by defending Captain's Log as a work of art meant to entertain and provoke, then swings into school menus, mass gun ownership through national service, reserve-force drills, SSD recovery logistics, and one...

The day is driven by the broken-SSD fallout: pick the Dell, pay Daminda again if needed, and stop wasting time on people who cannot act, while the larger emotional truth becomes harder to hide, that America still feels like...

Music and half-hidden detours give way to the real public work: a visit to HNB, warnings about hardware risk, irritation at delays and weak local execution, and the growing conviction that the script is still the cleanest...

What begins with There Will Be Blood and stray Twitter sightings turns into a practical question about whether the diary should become YouTube entertainment, or whether writing alone is still the right medium for the project.

Shared a sepia portrait of King George VI in Freemason regalia. Caption noted Grandmaster status under UGLE

Coffee memories from UK dorm rooms returned, including mouldy pods and favorite machines. A Hilton stay ended exhausted, then joy landed on Udhantha & Yuki’s menu

Flashbacks of Ayeshah's betrayal force me to confront my feelings of anger and the complexities of familial loyalty.

A tired day of muted notifications, coffee, beard talk, and delayed errands kept drifting until one old memory stood out: a cactus bought with care at a plant exhibition, then quickly eaten by Bingo the golden retriever....

The page starts with Buddhist enthusiasm and dreams, then widens into food runs, England longing, moon-landing inspiration, and a self-correction on Muslims: I keep trying to separate real friendships from lazy anger and...

The page runs from Trump-as-showman and startup-event boredom into cyber ambition, defense-deal fantasies, ISIS anger, Apocalypse Now, and Sri Lanka strategy, then finally steadies with Alex Marsh, who talks James, Ayeshah,...

I spent the day between race-and-state thinking, vivid food dreams, and a real medication crisis, with the page showing how easily policy grandiosity and physical fragility were sitting side by side.

I kept pushing through a heavy day of business-school leadership doctrine mixed with lab-grown meat excitement, and I closed it by staying in control and moving my story forward.

I spent the day in a real-time swing between hate, correction, relapse, and moral panic, with the page showing me arguing against my worst impulses even while still inside them.

The day was a volatile pile of notes about Palestine, Zoroastrian grievance, family money, revenge, coercion, identity hatred, and fantasies of control, which is why it feels less like a diary and more like a raw danger dump.

This was a true chaos day: too many cards in the air, bomb imagery, survival logic, Covid escalation, and nonstop mental switching between business, fear, and disaster scenarios.

Exhaustion dominated from the first hours, and even when I kept working, watching, planning, and coping, the real shape of the day was how little energy I had for anything at all.

I spent most of the day buried in The Apprentice, using Trump, business fantasy, and nonstop screen time to push through burnout, distrust, and the drag of feeling trapped at home and at work.

I was burned out, drinking, and still pushing myself to think ahead, moving between stress, ambition, and the feeling that I had to keep producing even while depleted.