Sweet Solitude

Dear Diary,

After a "Kodak" moment from Uncle, he's now moved onto the inevitable monolouge, interspersed with the occasional cacophony on the guitar. I would say it is playing, but it is not, coming under the catagory of mere 'noise'. Then comes the singing. Well, I say singing. I mean of course a repetitive second monolouge of just 'noise'. I even fled to the edge of the kitchen with my fingers in my ears, yelling "It's hurting me!". He is ... a liability. N. the technomage once said to me to cut this guy loose, I now realise that he was right. I am craving solitude and sweet Betty the banjuitar's embrace. I need to find peace, for all there is here is pain through noise. Let me be free of this living nightmare. The man never listens he just waffles on and on. Worse than I (would that were possible!). I wish I knew what it was to be free; of this painful racket, this ... cacophony. I yearn for the touch of Sweaty Betty or Dirty Gurty. Sweet Saint Lillian, where art thou? Not here, that's for sure.

Max