As the sun set, I sat on my roof and watched the world darken. A crow sat with me, off to my left. It was almost companionship. It was as aware of me as I was of it. Probably not used to being disturbed in its sunset ritual. They’re smart cookies, crows. Smarter than Hex, but so’s an apple. It seems all the creatures I’ve been in close proximity to in the last few weeks would actually eat me if I was tied up and couldn’t defend myself. I should get a dog. But a dog is for life, not just for lockdown.
There’s a fucking great mansion where there used to be a garden behind my flat. Busy year for someone. They’ve made a huge big pond for the mosquitos to breed in, and a domed conservatory type thing next to it. I don’t hate it. Nor does the crow.
So much thinking time.
This would be a good time to start a new religion. People are trapped in their individual homes, going slowly insane. Any old shit, if you say it with enough certainty someone’s gonna buy it. Don’t write it down. It needs to be recorded. The best target is semi-literate. Tell them about all the books you’ve read and scientific papers you’ve studied. Then just make up some stuff and make it sound important. You can stick a bit of your own politics in as well if you like, and anything else you don’t like – just say it’s bad and make up reasons. Probably there’ll be money at the end of it. Just don’t get them all to kill themselves suddenly. That happens too often. But this is kind of feeling like the ’70s with internet.
I’m hearing the names of old testament demons as if they were an actual problem in the real world rather than ancient distillations of human fear given name. It’s like I’m playing a Dungeons and Dragons timetwister campaign. “Watch out, Baal’s about!” “Would you like to take out a policy against acts of Beelzebub?” “Our decking spray can protect against Moloch!” We just aren’t used to collectively having all this unstructured time, and also not having a quick sounding board. “The reason all the loopaper sold out is because Katie Swivens from number five is actually Belial.” “What the fuck are you talking about?” “Ah nothing, you’re right. Don’t worry.” Instead you post it online and someone is like “me too bro, my neighbor is actually Marchosias. He’s eating all the puppies in my area. But you don’t see THAT in the papers.”
We are starting to crack and there’s lots more of this to come I fear. We are getting fed up of the sound of their own heads if we’re on our own. I really want to go to the pub, to go out dancing, to sit in a restaurant with friends, to have coffee and write in a crowded room.
I’m trying for an early bed so I don’t smash myself with booze at home again. I think a few days down are in order to let my poor body recover.
A good long walk to the pet shop tomorrow to buy mice for the snake. Start to think about how my body fits into all this, and what condition I want it to be when we leave. I haven’t been kind to it since I locked in.
Time is speeding up which happens when you’re forgetting to do things you’ve never done before. I’ve never bought frozen mice before. It’s not much but it’s something. If only Belphegor wasn’t stopping me exercising.