Roam away from home

Ever Dearest Diary,

Thangs have eased up a little, but I’m still on edge, hiding out, in the cabin with the wood burner, Ronulus, and a tall glass of cider. I am trying my utmost to stop Mr. Barker from chewing any more phono leads or golf balls. Today I found some rice in the cupboards, so I am having bubble and squeak with rice and gravy.

It’s rehearsal today - or maybe not - I just don’t care. Either way it’s archæology and Latin today, in the cabin. I’ve ran outta smoke, which is prolly a good thang. Yesterday I burnt a large hole in my jean trouser leg, after having fallen asleep by the fire so mashed. Now? Ronulus and I: celamus.

Max.

Post-Script: Oh! I also finished working on my short story yesterday. As Prong Horn created a new genre (‘cow punk’) my new novella ‘Forbidden Fruits’ should be in a class of its own: Trauma fiction. (Essentially driven by a compulsion of resurfaced traumatic memories, which induces Catharsis).

Post Post-Script: One thing that strikes me as strange about wattpad though, is that the story is unrated. Not simply being discounted from being in the book charts, more than that, the age classification. My book contains incest, a steamy sex scene and a double homicide. Yet, still it is fit for all ages to read. Bizarre. I guess because there are no vulgarities, bdsm references or self-harming scenes, that wattpad decided it did not warrant censorship, nor did it qualify to be in the charts. Evidently I am not poet or writer whose worthy of censoring nor even being placed in the running. My work is just not good enough.

Post Post Post-Script: Mad Max just called. I did not phone myself, the other mad Max, naked boy, the drummer and friend. It was sonorous hearing his voice (even if he has forgotten how to speak English - he was very drunk, luckily I am able to communicate in Frog). Danny-boy was there, an old soldier. It is comforting to know that whatever happens, I have friends abroad. From Bretagne to Les Vosges I am able to seek the sanctuary of fellow musicians, if push comes to shove. God I miss Maxime. He is the craziest person you are ever likely to meet. Guaranteed.