Tamberlin's Account Read Free Page A

you are glad to have dates and/or times.
    I’m sure most of us can’t help but let these little things go. There’s so much else to worry about, why keep time?
    Time, I suppose, will take a hike when the battery in my watch dies.
    To keep the days—it’s such a little thing, why stop? So we give up one thing here and one little thing there—I’m afraid of what that adds up to.
    Besides, how can any of us think that each day doesn’t mean a hell of a lot more now than it did before??? Corita Kent said, “Life is a succession of moments. To live each one is to succeed.”
    It’s been about 120 days. That feels pretty significant. Each entry is significant. I’m lucky.
    You are lucky too.
    So there’s this busy body I see almost every day that I haven’t “killed.” I think it’s because I can’t stand to get near him—not that I want to get near any of them.
    He was my mailman—he was a creep before.
    Something ate most of his lower face, but didn’t want to eat his Droopy lips—they just hang between cheeks that almost look like saggy butt cheeks and—they always reminded me of Droopy.
    Did it disgust anyone but me that in the cartoon they had humans be attracted to that? Maybe you don’t know. Am I giving away my age?
    So violent music and video games desensitize people to violence, supposedly, right?
    What the fuck did all those moments in cartoon history do to the children watching animals getting romantic with “sexy” human women?
    That insurance commercial with the pig that ends up with the guy’s girlfriend did that too. And shooter video games are sick?
    There were a lot of things wrong with the way things were.
    I’ve thought a lot about why this is happening—obviously settling on the parasite idea, but that’s mainly because it’s a lot more comfortable to think about than the most realistic explanation I can think of.
    You know how places introduce species into an environment to get rid of pests or other problems? I’m almost too afraid to think that God might be doing that to us. How else do the dead come back? For all my life if someone asked, do I believe in life after death I’d say “yes,” one way or another.
    One way or another.
    For people who aren’t even agnostic- this all must be a hell of a thing to digest. How? How? How? How? How? How?
    Why?
    I guess because of heavy metal and furries.
    I guess it doesn’t matter.
    They are .
    There’s no denying that.
    I wonder if anyone has taken shelter in my house. Are they dead? Did they face what I escaped?
    I almost didn’t survive my first night in this house.
    It was good that it was too big to fit under the bed. It was good that it was “fresh” enough that it couldn’t just crawl out of its flesh and get under. And it was good that the owner of this house had lamps that made pretty damn good clubs.
    Oct 4 1:55pm
    I’ve been avoiding the issue.
    Winter is coming.
    I told myself that it’s going to slow them down—maybe even stop them when it’s below freezing.
    But it’s going to stop me too.
    I don’t have supplies for winter. I don’t have supplies for a month.
    2:02pm
    What’s out there?

    Oct 5 9:20am
    Hi—How are you?
    I wish we could compare notes.
    As an end of the world, post apocalypse movies and books junkie I asked myself a million times before, what would I do? What would I do if there were zombies? What would I do if I woke up and I was alone in the world?
    When it happened, it wasn’t quite like that.
    Zombie movies gave me some ideas about what I could do.
    But having skills would help.
    This shit is the kind of thing I fantasized about when I thought I’d never get out of my stupid ass job.
    Well, zombies would end that- Ha! Ha! Ha!
    This actually feels more likely than getting out of my job did.
    I couldn’t get through a day of work without getting Grief , by Dir en Grey, in my head. If you know the song, you’d completely understand.
    I have some dog food and treats. Some flour and sugar