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Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in
Hester M. Nagle's LiveJournal:
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|Monday, May 15th, 2006|
It's a cold wind that blows across the night sand. My ears are still ringing from last night. Just throwing bullets into an SUV that thought it could mount some of the barricades on the road. Sam said that the drivers were probably drunk on swill, and I can't say she's wrong. Don't have the patience for it, either way. I'll shred your car and let you escape on foot. Enough Willowickers have sidearms that I don't have to worry about it. Deputy stars showing their value in tin! A million smiles and thanks to Hank Foegaarden for banging them out on the smithy. No diseases to worry about, nothing but the occasional spy plane, and a girl on my arm. Anyhow, I think the Feds have been making with the Big Nukes up north. Throwing the dust into the sky and bringing on that nuke winter that the eggheads warned about. I'll tell you what, nothing but love from down south. The dew seems to hold on longer, and the gardens seem to be growing. All the topsoil seems undevoured by the sand, which for us means more farming, which means more grazing, which means maybe we'll get our own methane plant going. Though I almost hate to ruin this place by making it smell like farts. On the downside, my own house is solar, so me & Sam don't need anybody else. On the other, I get lonely, and I kind of need everybody. Current Mood: amused
|Tuesday, October 18th, 2005|
More or less, I've played the recluse for the past week. It isn't like I've had to turn folks away though. "You are welcome for saving your stupid lives." Everyone is treating me like a pariah, even though they moved up here in large part because all my guns made them feel safe. Well I guess that safety stopped counting when it came down to the wire. In the CZ when I'd pull a White Knight I'd get pies, batteries, asprin. Willowick turns its collective back on you, shuns you like you are Freddy Krueger. Back to feeling alone in the midst of everyone. No Jackson, no Eric, nobody. Havn't even seen Sam to have her avoid eye contact with me. Which, I can't say I'm feeling all that outstanding. I've been throwing up, then sitting under a pile of blankets with Maggie until she gets bored and runs outside. This might be the cold splash of water in their face? Though I just have this fear that they are going to get together and ask me to leave. THIS WAS MY HOME FIRST! That is what I want to shout, but if they ask me to, what? Should I shake my guns at them? Act like the bandit in their midst? Or is this just my monthly crisis of faith? Maybe I am underestimating them. Maybe they are trying to give me space. I'm sick of acting cavalier, and I am sick of them acting like I'm allowed to put myself above them. Expecting me to, no less. I don't have a girlfriend (the whole point of leaving in the first place!) or any friends, really. I've been isolated since Sam decided this wasn't worth putting up with my own problems. I guess the mature thing would be to try to call some kind of town hall meeting. Why do I have to be mature? The world is a big mess, inspiring me to nothing other than survial. Wish that was true. Wish I could throw everything out the window. Here I am instead trying to build who knows what. I can't figure out a way to make things a lasting settlement. How to make somewhere a place I can stay. Current Mood: depressed
|Friday, October 14th, 2005|
A little while ago a couple of frat-boy raider scum came into town. Apparently this whole "pull yourself up by your bootstraps" small town thing is a common enough phenomenon that you can make a decent living off being a roving scum bag. Can't rob a bank, can't even really find money of any kind, but you can strong-arm folks into killing their breed stock for your supper, can carry off winter supplies. At least, most places you can't. One of Roger's kids, Kenny, came running up to tell me there were people making fools of themselves over off aways, so I armed up and went with him. A couple of formerly Provo toughs, just these two-penny fail out of college idiots who'd done gone and gotten themselves some hand cannons. I didn't even talk to them. You don't come running into my town waving a gun around at my friends. No, you don't, and they won't do it ever again. No warning shots. To be honest, it did cross my mind that I didn't have to shoot them on my way over there. Thing is, if they scare off, then what, they come back later with their friends? As it is they came in while folks were sleeping. No, best was how I did it. There were a few outcries, but when people saw Mrs. Sawyer's black-eye, they stopped up. We buried them in the ground outside the cemetary. No use upsetting all the people who died here fair and square. Current Mood: drained
|Thursday, October 13th, 2005|
So I guess I killed those guys. And I guess that they had it coming. I mean, right? Current Mood: embarrassed
|Saturday, October 1st, 2005|
Had a weird moment the other night trying still to come up with some sort of defense plan. Looking at all the uninhabited buildings on the perimeter of town, thinking "We could always tear these down, build a wall out of the rubble." Saying it to myself, I realized that someone in a situation probably very similar to mine said the same thing in Cleveland, and then made the Containment Zone. Afterwords I wasn't really sure whether I wanted to forgive the Fed troops in Cleveland for trying to make the best of a bad situation, or to blame myself for even considering my mistakes. That was Thursday, and in a bid to try to forget my troubles I got completely drunk and acted like a louse. Samantha has pretty much cleared out. Said some things about how it wasn't anyone's fault, but how she couldn't wrestle with my issues with the town as well as our issues as a potential couple. No one's fault basically meaning mine, I'm guessing. She isn't avoiding me or anything so cliche, which if anything makes it worse.
So what are the diffrent ways to make things safe? The sickness decoy thing was an outside the box kind of solution, but not really practical. Most travelers, a cut-throat bunch to begin with, would kill them just to be on the safe side. So that trick is out. Hiding is out, since we've got enough folks here to leave a footprint, as it were. We don't have enough guns to really be an agressive force. Making a castle isn't entirely out of the question, but for some reason I get a bad feeling about cutting things too feudal. We could send someone out, try to make an alliance with some other group, but that means almost certainly drafts and second class citizen treatment. The flip side to that is the really scary one, which Gene brought up. He says I should try to find a group of rough necks and convince the young, mutinous bucks to come side up here. I'm really out of ideas. Maybe I could get all Vlad the Impaler. If any raiders come around, I'll just put their corpses on display when I'm done with them. Sorry, I'm not that callous. Dead bodies make me want to throw up to begin with. Current Mood: contemplative
|Thursday, September 29th, 2005|
Oh I drank too much. I'm a sick little wreck. Sitting here in front of the computer pretty much the extent of my life now. Maybe I should be trying to figure out if battery power to laptops is going to save the world. Instead I'm trying to get over this killer stomach ache. I went to bed, but not with any real conviction. Sam kicked me right out. Which I will confess freaked me out. If you are going to sleep with me, don't act like my mother. And yes, I have slept with her. I don't want this to be a mess, even if it might be a mistake. Let us go full throttle, so at least the crash will be honest. Anyhow, I'm a little lit up tonight. Not per celebration. Don't get me wrong. If I wasn't so alone, I'd be kicking up a storm. The truth is, though, that I will always be alone. I can name this town Willowick, I can even defend it. I can let the people fall in love with me, and i can fall in love with them. The thing is, what comes after Post-traumatic stress disorder? Is there a survivor complex for the mass of us who...who made it? Can I enter a town without being criminalized ever again? Current Mood: exanimate
No real ideas on town safety. Build a wall? Basically pointless in the modern age. Stop having things worth stealing? Are food, women, and stuff not enough? Wow, what a chauvinist thing to say. Women. That is what raiders look for, though, from what I understand of things. So I guess that is the real fight of feminism. Here, girls are their own people, but to dune pirates, they are property to be stolen. "Dune pirates"? Okay, so I have had a few drinks and I am a little sex-high from Sam. Maybe a little over-wrought. Hence the "sex pirates." Excuse me, "dune pirates." It gets funnier every time I say it out loud. This is what comes of mixing caffine and alcohol, I say. Not everything that comes in a can is my favorite. I'll be up all night, worrying about some kind of I don't know what. I figured out how to protect my house, with the quarantine sheet idea. Maybe I should set up perimeter scouts with soap and vinegar sores, pretending the whole town has a flesh eating pox? I can't tell if that is a good idea or a crazy one.
Things with Samantha are confusing. I've gotten drunk with her and tried to talk about my feelings, but it all comes out a mash, and she is mashed in the brain with drinking as well. Sometimes, she doesn't even remember our talk. OK, once, but still. I'm all torn up, and I don't even think this is a CZ thing. Maybe it is a Sociology 101 thing. Don't people in developing countries die sooner? So why bother loving her, if she is going to die in five years? Man, as soon as I typed that I realized what a cop out that was. OK. I worked through a lot of issues over Cleveland, but I guess not this attachment anxiety. I am all kinds of messed up from the CZ. I'm still in a tail-spin. For all my doubt, I am still going to go down to my bedroom (I keep all the good stuff on the ground floor, all the electrics up high) and crawl into it with Sam. She tosses her arms wide when she sleeps, like she's on the cross, but other than that she doesn't move around much.
The other week, Maggie was sick, and I just about lost my mind. It started around the time the spy planes started clumping up. About the same time I saw more than one of them, actually. You can't imagine how I was. Gone was all that basic training. I can't even imagine how K-9 cops used to do it. I wish Maggie was trained, on one hand, but on the other, I don't think I could sic her on a guy with a gun. I'd be worried she'd get hurt. Anyhow, Mags started barfing up stuff I was pretty sure I'd never fed her. No doc wastes their time vetting, but she turned out right as rain. She must have ate some chocolate or something. Stupid Maggie! Goofy dog. Current Mood: giggly
|Friday, September 23rd, 2005|
Mope time is over, I kind of decided, after the past few days long extended girl-drink drunk. If I am going to be at least nominally smart about things, it is time to start laying foundations for something decent. Time to think like this is the CZ. Back then this place would have been a fortress, but so far the extent of fortification is my building a wall to keep wild animals out of my garden. Today's project, which is enlisted pretty much everyone into, was putting cars into neutral and at least making things difficult for anyone up to no good who happened to be a car. Sort of turning our section of Willowick into a common area adjoined more by backyards and the property between cul d' sacs, than the old fashioned city grid. Seriously, looking over the street maps and deciding how to block things off, I realized that this whole place was layed out by guys with rulers. Everything is a squared off grid. Disconcerting to look at the maps, for me...I wonder if this is what things look like for the spy plane pilots? What next is the real question. In Cleveland I only had to make a few buildings safe. Should I take a page out of feudal Europe? Make a castle or something equally crazy? Current Mood: frustrated
|Thursday, September 22nd, 2005|
You won't ever guess what I found out about today. It turns out that this guy Roger went to school in Arizona? High School, I mean. He went to a place called Corona del Sol, which was supposed to be the worlds first solar-powered High School. Well, it never was, but the buildings are apparently covered in the panels! Anyhow, for about five minutes I was gung-ho about getting a car, using some of the last petrol, and going down there to rip those things right off, but then I realized I was drunk, and was sort of obsessing. These cow-town folks sure like to pour drinks down my throat. Mostly I think the girls, like sharks, smell blood in the water, since I've been sort of avoiding Sam.
The real deal is sort of terrible. Like a Dolly Parton song should go. I'm having terrible fits of anxiety, born of this new town. What am I doing? This isn't any kind of life for me. I'm a mess at leadership. They've already decided that since I have all the guns, I should be the sheriff. Like this is some Segio Leone film. Why not paint a cross-hairs on my forehead? Then I went and named the town? I'm making worse decisions than I did back in the CZ, where at least I had people I could rely on. Now i'm back to missing Eric like I miss the world before the war, my totem and albatross. I can't shoulder all this. Not that it stops me from trying to impress girls. Hitting on 19 year olds while Samantha lurks around the fringes. Good one, man. You are a real trooper. I'm sure your dear old ma is smiling down from heaven.
Speaking of heaven. I've drawn down the attention of the angels. Or at least my old friends, the black spy planes. I hadn't seen on stop in a long while. But the other day we had one. Come to a full stop, in that creepy UFO way that they've got, and hover overhead. Take a look at me now, mister. This is, I'm pretty sure, how warlords in Rawanda got started before all the rest of the world went to pot. How about you air-drop in some self-esteem, huh? Or a clue of any kind. Because these people are going to end up depending on me, and I am going to fail them, and some of them are going to die. The first real bandits that pass by, or lonesome rapist Army brigade, or mechanical think like whatever was swimming in Lake Erie, or press-gang from a slaver town, or who knows what else. What kind of life am I living where worrying about pirates is in the job description? Is this what I left the National Guard for? I'm confused, and the only anybody I can really trust is my dog. Should I go over to Samantha's? What a bad idea or good idea that is. Toss my hat in the ring in earnest? Or at least just undress her and see what things there are to be seen? Undo some tension for a little while? You know what. No. I'm not going to. Current Mood: uncomfortable
|Wednesday, September 21st, 2005|
I've been doing things all wrong. Eric would have told me properly. I have been losing it. What is with this Samantha thing? Either I like her or I don't. No weird avoidance of the issue. Acting like we are just fooling around is too much me trying not to think of Karol. I can have been in love, and I can have gotten over it. So okay? I can not live a life trying to avoid getting hurt. Ever since the CZ...well, that is the lesson I should learn, right? You can't give up. If I gave up I'd be living in a solar powered house with my dog, lonely & begging for women. But here we are in the real world. Where I left that house to find help. So great, now I have to decide if i like Samantha enough. How lame is that? What a jerk I am. Can I make everything okay? I kind of hate myself. What happens when I tell Samantha that she is too old for me? Am I brave enough? I doubt it. I LIKE her. It is just...
Ugh. Current Mood: quixotic
|Tuesday, September 20th, 2005|
So do you count as Australian anymore? I guess I can still call myself an American, at least by continent. I mention it because the girl, Samantha, that I have been getting on with the best has the Aussie accent. I can't imagine her ever getting home, but still, no matter the war, you can't change your continent. India/Asia excepted. Anyhow, Sam is several years my elder, but she knows what she is doing. Too many of the Anchorhead girls are all Neo-Victorian minded, but Samantha seems to have her head on straight. She lost a couple of kids during the tribulations of the war, but it seems to only have made her more aware of the Game, in the rap star player sense of it. I don't think me and Sam have some supernatural bond, but she doesn't think we do either, which, at least so far, puts her in the front running. We can make out, have oral sex, and not have it be the end of the world. Pardon me, end of the world is less funny now that the world has ended. I can get a blow job, I can go down on her, and what it means is that we've had a good time. Neither of us trust condems, or has enough faith in each other to just have sex regular or with possibly compromised rubbers. Which I think is just what the doctor ordered. Maggie seems to like Sam, too, which is a big plus. Current Mood: horny
|Wednesday, September 14th, 2005|
I've named the town Willowick, in honor of where I grew up in Cleveland before the CZ. I'll call it a town, which should give you an idea of how successful the trip to Anchorhead went, which is to say GREAT. So fantastic in fact that some of the folks decided to move on over here, to sort of try to expand the two settlements into a larger province. I think they see me as a hired gun and are trying to lure me with friendship and well, consider me bought. The people in Anchorhead are some of the nicest folks I've ever encountered, before or after the war. (I say after the war, because I can't imagine anyone is still fighting it, though I presume it is still technically on going, since I still occasionally see those weird spy planes. I asked Gene about them, and he said they see them sometimes too- more, lately, which is why so many people were willing to jump ship). I got there, there was the usual stand-offishness of any lone wolf meeting a new pack, but as soon as they saw I was willing to put up (most) of my guns, things got down right homesome (if that is a word). Sure, I kept the .357 snubby in my boot, but what am I, suicidal? Turns out Anchorhead is BOY-CRAZY. I havn't gotten "personal" with any of the ladies there, but I say that with a definate "yet." I am a hot commodity! Girls love dogs, and with all this book learning I've gotten this past couple months, I seem a regular Proffessor, with them all trying to be my Maryanne or Ginger. So anyhow, after a week there I got to being itchy for home, and a bunch of them said they were thinking of striking out too. It has only been a month (really? only a month?) but already I've helped a whole bunch of families move there stake out here to Willowick. There is even talk of trying to get a methane plant up like they've got in Anchorhead. That'll be the day!
How do I feel about this, though, all bullcrap aside? Kind of messed up. The thing in Cleveland wasn't so long ago. I'm not going to make those same mistakes again, though. Or well, I can blame myself, but really everything went to pot because of some kind of horse flu. How long can I carry that albatross around my neck, really? I know I went a little crazy when I ran away from the CZ, but now it is time to stop being crazy. There isn't anything here worth fighting over. No long lost millitary bases, even, because trust me, I looked. So what I am going to do, everytime I freak out because they are looking at me for an answer, is to just fake a thoughtful expression, take a few deep breaths, and totally fake it. OK? I really do wish Eric or Jackson were here, though. To say nothing of Karol...but I'm not ready to think about her just yet. Current Mood: thankful
|Friday, August 12th, 2005|
I am the most brilliant fellow possible. I've come up with an idea for how I can, with at least a major abatement in stress and paranoia, leave my house unguarded. So I spent today making the necessary preparations for departures. My big plan is basically a scare tactic, but a really good one. First things first, I slung my gun and went into town. Looking at the Yellow Pages told me the location of an insect exterminator, so I headed there first off. Broke into the place and dug around until I could what i was looking for: one of those tents they throw over a house that is getting gased for termites. That is right, my plan involves covering my place with a huge tent and posting "BIO-HAZARD" signs all over the property. I mean, I've done my fair share of looting, and thus can state with relative confidence that nobody is going to try to break into that. I mean, what, small pox, black death, biological weapon, who knows? Also, it covers the solar panels, so even if someone DID break in, they'd only be able to steal some stuff. I'll probably move a bunch of supplies to a safe location tommorow, stock up some back-ups, and then maybe leave the day after that. Current Mood: giddy
So these days, I want to go to the cattle rancher's town, but I am too paranoid about leaving my home unguarded. I mean, transients come through here more often than I thought originally, though that shouldn't be the biggest surprise, since I found it pretty easily in the first place. Even if I locked everything up tight, it would be a cinch to bust in here. Or rip the solar panels off the roof, even, which would be the end of my lap of luxury exsistance. What, I could leave Mags here to guard it, and then what? She'd get shot? Or something could happen to me, and she'd starve? See, I am riddled with doubt, but I don't know how much I can throw myself into home improvements and self education. I'm done with this solitude, I'm so done with it. The only idea I've really got is to try to send a message to the cow town? Bribe the next guy passing through to go tell them to come visit ME? I don't see that working. Especially because what I want is to meet girls. "Hello good towns people! Could you please send all your attractive single women to my house? Thank you." I don't exactly imagine them going for that, and I kind of feel dirty thinking like that. Sounding all arranged marriage about it. I don't just want ANY girl, I'm not totally without morals. I guess for now I just keep hoping that a cool, single, female drifter comes wandering by, so I can invite her to stay. Which is the most unlikely scenario I can imagine. Current Mood: lonely
|Sunday, May 1st, 2005|
Things are going great. Would write more, but this thing is dying from lack of batteries and I accidentally deleted everything I just wrote. Current Mood: annoyed
|Sunday, February 6th, 2005|
Things have been going great! These Mad Max people, Charles and Dave, came through and caught me with my wheel barrow. Rather than some End of the World stand-off, I just traded these guys some supplies and they helped me move bricks back and forth to the homestead. After that they moved on, said they were going to try to see what Mexico is like. I've spent the past couple days mortaring the walls up to a decent height. With all the bricks Chuck and Dave moved in their trunk, it went up faster than anything. According to them, there is a decent sized settlement withing a long-hike distance, some people with a whole herd of cattle. They are apparantly using some kind of methane burning reactor to keep their little enclave running with electricity. Sounds pretty ingenious, if you ask me. Maybe next time the ache of loneliness comes on strong I'll head in that direction. Dave also pretty much pinpointed where my present location is on the map, so I guess things are...well, alot more connected all of a sudden. Sometimes I get that paranoia I was so famous for back in the CZ, but I keep it under control for the most part, I think. In other news, I've taught Maggie that trick where she holds the treat on her nose untill told she can eat it. Also, both those big water jugs are full. My forearms are starting to look like crazy from all the pumping. Dinner tonight? Potted Ham cooked with (canned) pineapple slices and some canned peas. Served with lukewarm orange juice from concentrate. If I want desert I might have saltines and honey. I forgot to mention! A major find down in the town. Raided someone's locked liquor cabinent (broke the glass) and now have myself a few 3/4 bottles. Bombay Sapphire, Jack Daniels, Smirnoff. Current Mood: hungry
|Tuesday, January 25th, 2005|
A wheelbarrow is the best i was really able to find for moving bricks, so building walls has been slow work, but it keeps me occupied. Way I see it, winter is bound to be the best time to build anything out here, not that I have any idea what the summer is going to be like. She makes strange a bed-fellow, Mother Nature, when you don't know her climatalogical rhythms. So much for the superiority of Man, here we're brought our nations down low, while the Earth trundles along never-you-mind. I'm basically just a caveman with a rifle. To be fair, that makes me a pretty dangerous caveman. I've killed a few coyotes that have come sniffing around. Having a dog sure is useful- Mags was barking like it was D-day all over again. So the walls are coming- I'm making them fairly ambitious, enough for a pretty spacious garden and anything else i might want to put up. I wonder how high I should make them. maybe I'll try to just put stuff on top of them when i'm done. I'm not trying to make architechtural history here. I did roll two other water resevouirs up to where I'm staying, one evening. One I've got half-full, already. I also scatter-planted some pumpkin seeds in the greenhouse. Now what I really need is some better meat to eat than wild dog or canned tuna. Yuck. Current Mood: nauseated
|Monday, January 17th, 2005|
Across town, I found this hothouse that someone was using to grow roses and orchids in. I probably should start up some vegetables in there; it wouldn't be too hard to repair it. Just a little duct tape and plastic tarps, which I've got. I'd move over there, but this place has the electricity, which means the whole heat thing still nominally works. I don't really understand the mechanics of the thing, or I'd think about some kind of consolidation project. I don't know, maybe throw some of these potatoes in the good dirt back here, some onions, and then plant some pumpkin seeds in the greenhouse. Let them grow, check up on them during scavanging trips. How hard can it be to grow pumpkins? It seems like a fairly reasonable thing to do. Man, I don't know anything about electronics (well, not much) and you don't know anything about botany and farming. Probably about a million other things I don't know anything about either. Since I seem to be settling in here, old hermit me, I might as well try to grab some technical manuals. Start a little library of practical knowledge. Heck, if I get the urge to try to save the world again like I did back in the CZ maybe I can do it with a little more know how and pragmatism.
My daily routine here isn't so bad. I pump water by hand alot but I'm hardly going to shirk from that. I've contemplated emptying out some other homestead's old water resevouir to have as a back up, sort of like we had in Cleveland. I should probably also start building walls if I'm going to grow vegetables. There are plenty of coyotes around for one thing, so that means other shit like deer are probably making a come back since the population reductions. I guess total global conflict might be good for Mother Nature in the long run. If I grow a garden I don't plan on sharing with Bambi. I'm not looking forward to carting bricks around. If this ghost town wasn't totally empty of automobiles I'd load a car up, but so far not hide nor hair of anything useful with wheels, not so much as a bicycle.
Last Thursday I found a tuxedo that someone left behind, and on a whim I brought it with me. So just in case I find any fine young women looking for a date to the Prom, I'm aces. Oh no I shouldn't have thought about women. See, this is when companionship is going to get rough. A man and his dog is okay so far, but if i'm not careful I'm going to turn into sasquatch or something. Okay, thats no good. I might not have had sex since Karol and I had our big falling out. Wow, that was a long time ago, ages ago. I'm going to get some scissors and trim this beard of mine. I think staying presentable will probably help my mental endurance, come to think of it. Sounds like something I might have heard once. Current Mood: thoughtful
|Thursday, January 13th, 2005|
Sometimes I just can't believe my luck, but then I remember that everyone I loved in the CZ died of some horse flu and i realize that maybe this is just karma's way of balancing itself out. Of all the things I've had and trusted, only my galil is still with me, though I suppose I could do alot worse than that. A gun you can rely on is probably worth a couple hundred friends and lovers too most people, but maybe I am just not cynical enough? I'd trade it away to the first Christ-like guy who offered to bring them back from the dead. Heck, things are just crazy enough these days to make that almost seem possible. To make the idea of this as some Armageddon seem palatable. Of course, I know better. I know people are stupid, and people have these missiles, and sometimes things just go to pieces. Its a bit weird, but I've got to curb my flights of fancy. I'm barely keeping it together as it is.
Anyhow, I found this liberal yuppie house out here in used-to-be-Utah, and its like a treasure trove. First off, the roof is equipped with solar panels, and the little electronics training I had back when I was studying Communications paid off sweetly. Now I don't freeze at night and I have juice for ammenties like a computer. Still can't find Eric, and at this point I'm pretty sure he's dead. If he died with all of his gung-ho survival training, you'd think I'd be dead, but here I am and here he isn't. Among the other luxeries i'm granting myself is a pet. I befriended a stray, some black lab and who knows what mix, ribs showing and tongue lolling out the side of her mouth. Her name is Maggie, and she's as sweet as anything. The town nearest to this lonesome house is not very far away, and I've been living off the stuff I've found in pantries there. Looks like the town was evacuated in a pretty orderly fashion, since there arn't any cars and the closets are missing clothes. I can't imagine how desolate the area around here must be, if I'm the first looter, but it appears to be the case.
The black triangle planes only make an appearance overhead every couple of weeks, that whole staggered movement, standing still and then suddenly zooming off in a seemingly random direction at top speed. I used to think I knew what they were up to, used to think I'd pieced everything together. My explanations ring hollow and psychotic to me now, and so I guess I realize Jackson and everybody stopped obeying my "orders." I probably was totally unhinged at that point. Nice to realize in retrospect. Heartbreaking to realize in retrospect, when I can't go back and put things right. I'm pretty sure I'm in my right mind now. Though sitting here in the middle of Utah-that-was with no companionship will probably cure that. Part of why I thought I'd get a dog. I wish I'd payed more attention in my Psychology classes. I wonder when I'll move on from here? I'll be bringing Maggie, thats for sure. I'm done with leaving things behind. Current Mood: melancholy
|Tuesday, December 21st, 2004|
|Back on the Map
Its a tuesday morning and I think I'm right about where Utah used to be (or what used to be Utah, I guess- whichever one it is, whatever it is now). Things are cleaner, better here in the south-west. My theory is that its all nice out here because there isn't really any reason for living out here unless you are running from something. Used to be that I knew a whole gaggle of Mormons, out in Kirtland, before Kirtland became just another 'burg outside the CZ. They said thats why Salt Lake got founded; a whole bunch of Mormons on the run from everybody. Well I've got nobody and I'm on the run from pretty much everybody, so it seems I'm following in their footsteps. The horse I got from those Good Old Boys got shot dead one night after I crossed the Mississippi river, shot by some assholes who were joy-riding on one of those old fashioned Casino Ships. Just a bunch of hooligans, I guess, because they didn't even disembark. So I've been hoofing it, avoiding big towns mostly, just scavanging off the smaller out of the way places that have already been abandoned. Gets lonesome, though. I think the next friendly dog that comes out to try to beg from me I'm going to try to befriend. I found a whole stash of those Vienna Sausages in somebodies pantry, some old lady who died when her support infrastructure fell out from under her, when the whole government went batshit insane. I can't stomach the freaking things, though, but I bet a mutt would. So maybe I'll make a friend and settle down for a little bit somewhere, see if I can't make a go of things far away from a city. To hell with cities. Current Mood: indescribable