I have passed one night in this place, and all is still well. If I had to, I could exist in this one room, at this one desk. At least, I think I can. My resolve is still strong. Luckily, I am not confined to this station day after day. In the morning, well after the sun is up, for I still fear exploring this place in darkness, I will venture to that place they call “The Barn” and report for duty. Legend has it that the floors screech like spirits from hell, and that the office across the hall will give you coffee, if you come bearing sufficient gifts.
The white madness is melting away, but being replaced with sheets of sparkling and slippery death. I must watch myself. One wrong step on this dreaded substance, and my ass will be aching for a week.
I have adorned my space with some roses, as a reminder of life, and of the outside world. They smell sweet and fresh. I will have to be sure to gather more when the winter takes these too. Walls and window have also become my page — they make for great places to store notes and jot reminders and ideas.
This afternoon, I solidified 15 pages. Hopefully, it will be sufficient. Sensai asks that I send him all I have — luckily the doves of the internet are strong. They carry a heavy load. Momentarily, I will send these pages onto him. Well, the 15 plus many, many more that I am not as proud of. We’ll see what he says. I hope he enjoys my words. If not, the days spent at this desk will feel long and dark, no matter how many roses I pick.
Wish me luck.
Dear me, two hours of writing is as tiring as hunting turduckin in a holiday butcher shop. What’s turduckin you ask? That really isn’t the point here, is it? Who would have thought that exhaustion can come while sitting in one spot, scribbling with one hand, and listening to jazz music with one ear. What was I doing with the other ear? Keeping a listen out for the wild creatures that prowl about this god-forsaken land of course. Their names…. Discouragement, Procrastination, Naptime… I have seen Naptime rear his ugly head, but have found only trails of Procrastination and Discouragement. I’m sure Self-Doubt, Lethargy, and Writer’s Block are lurking somewhere near by. I must be vigilant. Constant Vigilance. That’s how you survive. I mentioned yesterday my cunning in transforming the glass of my window into additional note space. See how that is progressing? I hope it keeps me ahead of the game, and does not alert the enemy of my whereabouts.
The internet doves carried my pages to Sensei at 1600 hours. I will have little contact in the coming fortnight, but nonetheless proceed into the wilderness with my wits as my guide.
James Joyce visited me in the night. He revealed to me exactly how to tackle the travel-pages in this project. That is what I am working on at present. (Ok… he didn’t come to me in a dream — though that would be hella cool — but I did get the idea from Ulysses. Hint: it is vaguely related to “walking time.”) Maybe he is my literary guardian angel and will stave off the demons and ghosts. Have I already lost a grip on sanity? We are only entering the 72 hour zone…
Keep your head down. And remember. Constant. Vigilance.
Tiredness of mind and of body overwhelmed today. Lethargy, declare January 5 a victory. You will not be so lucky on the morrow.
I bested Naps today. And managed to produce many pages. I hope they will not blow away in the wind.
Even on islands, Fridays suck. And do you know why Fridays suck? I’ll tell you. Because you’re tired. How do I know it’s Friday? By the tiredness I feel (and the tally I’ve been notching into the walls.) Needless to say, I spent the afternoon and evening weaving fibers that I don’t even need, making a mess of my habitat — my nest. Pages have not copulated. I thought that was what putting them together in a dark room ensured.
SUCCESS! I have added to the number of leaves to my name. Huzzah! I have also realized that on an island, dehydration might be a leading cause of fatigue and unhappiness. So, I found a clear-tasting water source and have been drinking as much water as I can. I do feel less tired. But my writing has oft been interrupted by runs into the bushes, if you catch my drift. There may be an additional update later this evening, but the beast in my stomach is roaring. I must satisfy it.
— Kinch, for now
Dastardly week, I have bested thee! With many many pages held beneath rocks and other objects of a largish sort, I have my trophies. What have you? Nothing!
Now comes Monday… Dear Lord, please give me the strength to conquer this loathsome beast. I cannot cower beneath my sheets long after the sun rises. I must persevere and emerge victorious!