I Have Zero Interest In These Capitol

Haymitch In My Head Full-time. Horrifying

If You Won't Talk About Yourself, At Least Compliment The Audience. Just Keep Turning It Back Around, All Right. Gush.

In My Mind, President Snow Should Be Viewed In Front Of Marble Pillars Hung With Oversized Flags. It's Jarring To See Him Surrounded By The Ordinary Objects In The Room. Like Taking The Lid Off A Pot And Finding A Fanged Viper Instead Of Stew.

I Go To The Saltwater And Wash Off The Blood, Trying To Decide Which I Hate More, Pain Or Itching. Fed Up, I Stomp Back Onto The Beach, Turn My Face Upward And Snap, "hey, Haymitch, If You're Not Too Drunk, We Could Use A Little Something For Our Skin." It's Almost Funny How Quickly The Parachute Appears Above Me. I Reach Up And The Tube Lands Squarely In My Open Hand. "about Time" I Say, But I Can't Keep The Scowl On My Face. Haymitch. What I Wouldn't Give For Five Minutes Of Conversation With Him.

In Our World, I Rank Music Somewhere Between Hair Ribbons And Rainbows In Terms Of Usefulness.