Last eve I sat and contemplated my existance in the universe. I chatted
with (insert famous person's name here) and of course with (name drop
somebody here). We discussed many things. At the end of the discussion I
had decided to rededicate my life to the worship of the ancient, but
dead god Babba-Lou. Who was the God of Silence. It was at this point
that it was pointed out to me by my imaginary famous people that I was a
tad drunk. And in fact Babba-Lou did not ever exist but was the product
of some high grade weed I had just smoked. Which is probably for the
best as me following a God of Silence would be totally hypocritical of
me and go against who I am. Probably a lesson hidden in there somewhere,
but the oak tree quit talking to me so I'll just leave it up to you to
figure out.

Penned by my hand on the 6th of Sarapin, in the year 295 AF.