Day three, 27 October
Today I woke up just before eight a.m., again with no alarm. Interesting, but logical, I think. Since I get to spend most of my time truly alone, I don’t feel the need to stay up so late and I wake up earlier. Less people to avoid, longer days to enjoy I suppose.
Anyway, I had lunch with one of the guys working on the estate, he wanted to show me a nice and cheap restaurant near by. It will do.
Back home I got on with minor things I needed to be taken care of. Then I took some wood in and went for a long walk in the woods with Ada. It felt great. This is what I desire; take a few steps out of a house and be in the middle of the woods. The sound of humanity fading away, a sacred distance a man can place towards his peers, the solitude of life without anthromorphs. The lively earth and green tones you only get from untouched land. I was the odd one here; — I was the odd one anywhere, but here I was supposed to. As long as I respect it, it will never put me through malicious suffering. There’s no pretence here. I feel good after about a couple of hours walking around and head home.
As I returned, I hear the murmur civilisation, with all those people working around the little city of me. At sun down, they’ll assemble and leave for the day. From that point until sun-up I would be alone for miles. It wasn’t exactly like that, but that was what it felt like. And it gently bursted from the headphones those aggressively smooth lines as I smiled:
I stopped, gathered some wood for later tonight and set the fireplace, but didn’t light it up. I sat down, kept the music on repeat and wrote for hours. I wrote the previous day diary entrance and somethings down for today. I wrote A FRENCH VALSE IN GLASGOW. Sometimes I would pause and play outside with Ada for little while. She gets so happy when she sees me looking at her without calling her over that she comes back running any way.
I could hear storm approaching and Ada’s looking outside intently as the sky turn a ominous yellow. The wind outside made the trees sing and I could feel the crescendo coming when I heard the rumblingin the distance. So I settled in for the night, and saw that The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows had released another word: KUDOCLASM. I don’t want to spoil any of it for you, so I won’t transcribe any of it here, but I suggest that the next time you just need to take five minutes to relax, to decompress, to let go, to be zen, just turn down the lightning around you, adjust the sound to a pleasing deep booming volume, select fullscreen and press play. When you do want to read the script, you can find it here.