Please drive ahead

I came to the island, cancelling my Volkswagen appointment and driving to the ferry terminal without a reservation. I know I'll be up all night, here, without reliable internet and all my other reliable distractions, but at least I know that I won't sleep all day tomorrow. My mum promised to wake me at ten, and it would be impossible to sleep through a day at Saturna.

In my hurry to leave the house I forgot to pack pyjama pants. I'm wearing a sort of nightshirt now, which is unusual for me. The novelty is almost too much. I feel half-naked. The nightshirt has a Japanese motif, a tsunami wave and a rising sun. I think it came from my mother's closet here at the cabin. I must have borrowed it on another occasion when I'd forgotten my pyjama pants, and it never got back upstairs to her closet. The rising sun makes me think of Empire of the Sun, which I only just finished, curled up on the top bunk of my room. I'd been meaning to read it since I first saw the movie years ago and it was a good book, but I'm glad to have finished it because it was making me feel like a prisoner of war. When I'm enjoying a book, I tend to start worrying about the same things the protagonist worries about, in this case: starvation, avoiding execution, and finding my parents. Maybe that's why I came to the cabin.

On the ferry over I ate five peaches from a bag I'd brought with me. I don't like eating peach fuzz, so I would carefully wipe it off on the passenger seat and then scrape the seat with a tool for removing dog hair from fabric. It was a good system. It worked well. I'd blow the peach fuzz from off the scraper out the car window, and I'd eat my peach. I sucked every bit of pulp off of the pit, (like a prisoner of war), and I lined up the pits on the dashboard. When I got off the ferry at Saturna the pits all rolled under the seats, where they'll probably stay until the long-delayed Volkswagen appointment, when disaffected Volkswagen technicians will find them and roll their disaffected Volkswagen eyes.

Hopefully Marc will come over when my parents leave, and I'll end up staying longer than a couple of days. It's possible. I think I spent too much time in my room at home while I was on the pain pills and it was starting to get to me. When I spend a lot of time in my room, especially when I can't sleep at night, the walls start to get really yellow. That's also when I write the most. I have pages and pages of diary entries raging about my jaundiced walls. But it's not really the walls. It's everything. The air is suffused with this sickening yellow. Sometimes I feel like a misplaced being from a primitive culture, recoiling in horror at the artificial glare of electricity. How about that! Then I go online or play Nintendo for hours to forget about it. PRIMITIVE CULTURE.

I'm going to go back to my bunk now. I just picked up Watership Down and started reading it for the first time in years. Fiver was always my favourite rabbit. He's so depressing.