Day 3

5.01: How does that Low song go?

And the light it burns your skin in a language you can’t understand.

I’m coming to feel like this about my alarm. Out of empty nowhere, it just starts talking. But my ears aren’t yet primed and ready for noise; so the sound thumps moronically into me like an unstoppable force obliterating a porcelain tea-set.

A static shock’s a good analogy: when some un-electrical object, quite without reason or provocation, attempts to electrocute you. And you don’t know whether to be more shocked by the shock, or by the fact that the shock came from something that shouldn’t ever have been capable of shocking you.

But shocks aside, I am a morning person. I really am: it’s just waking up suddenly that I dislike. Now I’m here (with a new keyboard all fangled and sleek) and ready to face the world. Show me what you got suckers.

(The old keyboard, by the way, was humanely dispatched after yesterday’s freakout. It had become a danger to itself and the mission. Simple ceremony; lone bugler.)

7.00: A good 1500 words rattled out. Still barely into the foothills of this particular mountain, but beginning to assemble a working set of ropes, crampons and caribenas.

~ by David Thorley on October 21, 2009.

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