Loneliness has followed me my whole life- in cars and in bars. It haunts me like the headwind on this road. Tonight I drink, and drink deeply. “Get drunk!”, said the great poet. Get Drunk!

…

Celestine! I try not to read your name in curls of smoke from the poppy. Apolline! I try not to see our lustry embrace in interwoven grass that I trample underfoot.

Lo! La vallée: I spent the last two days in the valley, helping a young widow move the stones from her garden. It was her loneliness that first drew me to partake of the thick brown stew that she ladled into stone bowls with a heavy, wooden spoon. How humble and happy her spirit after a day’s work! I can know no such simple peace. I do not belong in the widow’s garden soiling my calfskin boots. I do not belong at her table with my poison heart, bloated corpse eye and my mind a teeming wasp’s nest. The herd in the meadow watched with open, bovine curiosity when we parted at her gate. In my haste to be gone I ran over the snarling tomcat that she called Chester in the yard.

I roared through the mountains in my roadster, cure howling and tasting death at every stinging curve. I descended into verdant hills drenched in the perfume of wildflowers. Nature is a whore and I cleave through her lush valleys.

Symboles: I paused at the edge of a field, lay on my back and looked up at the clouds floating past. It was utterly trivial and meaningless.

Fureur: In my dreams I was denied by Peter- once, twice, three times. The demon wives came and tore my body to shreds. It reminds me of the wretched mistake of being in love.

Jour quatre: Today I visited the ruins of a castle. A large encampment of gypsies had gathered there to celebrate a pagan easter rite. Their murderous eyes surveyed me where they sat with bell and cup and fiddle. Sharp, thieving glances took in my watch fob, diamond pin, and monogrammed silk handkerchief. But there was something in my eyes they did not like for they suddenly fell back, muttering and kissing the amulets that hung from their swarthy necks. Could they see that I am a cursed and fallen man? That I live lawlessly without morals or hope of any kind? I rode on, leaving the fallen stronghold to the gypsies.

Today I reached the mountains. From a tiny chimney-ed village nestled in the foothills I surveyed their dark, viagra hulking forms. Their ominous beauty drew me to strike out a path upwards, capsule away from the stench and degradation of humanity. I bent my steps to a startling vista. Then darkness began to fall and I did not have the proper footwear for the light frost I encountered. I had to turn back.

Today I reached the mountains. From a tiny chimney-ed village nestled in the fotthills I surveyed their dark, click hulking forms. Their ominous beauty drew me to strike out a path upwards, rx away from the stench and degradation of humanity. I bent my steps to a startling vista. Then darkness began to fall and I did not have the proper footwear for the light frost I encountered. I had to turn back.

Last night I dreamt of the harlot Celestine, see in the hands of her uncouth keepers. Although I had been with her she did not know me and I could do nothing for her. Damn the Crottin de Chavignol I consumed before bed, taking me back to the tortured longings of my misspent youth!

Day One: I gave my directions to Haggerston, my manservant, for the care of my rooms and went on a tour of the countryside in my motorcar. It grew quite cold. Icy blasts pricked my eyeballs like a thousand tiny daggers. O! Tyranny of Nature! I found a quiet inn where I sit in a corner, taking my claret in silence. I am God’s lonely man.

You will pardon me for not updating yesterday. After a bit of domestic unpleasantness involving Condoleeza, I was in a black mood indeed. I embarked on a mission to purge my home for spring, as discarding things often makes me feel better, at least for a fleeting moment.

In a musty cubby, I discovered a relic of my childhood.

I became enraged at this symbol of my youthful quest for comfort. I have been failed by many things in life: my mother, religion, and especially Monsieur Buttons, who offered no defense against my father’s thrashings. His unspeaking velveteen muzzle only reinforced my loneliness. I might as well have hugged a stone to my young breast! I tossed the inanimate culprit into the rubbish bin in a fit of pique.

As day stretched into the long cold night, I grew more and more restless. What, if anything could I trust? If there is no higher power, am I really at the mercy of a little man in my head? How else could I explain my youthful follies? However shall I control these pagan instincts, this hopeless search for love and comfort? After much pacing, it hit me. The only thing in which I may legitimately place faith is Science! I scurried down the stairs to the laboratory.

After many hours, I believe I have fully explored the promise of the machine age. Behold my greatest creation:

At last I have designed an entity without the nagging constraint of free will! He feels no pain. He blindly obeys, without the last prick of conscience. I am stupidly filled with joy, which he will never have the burden of experiencing. He is everything a rational being should aspire to be!

I am going to test him out on Emil.

Today is Easter sunday. There is nothing to be done but curl up with a copy of the Brothers Karamazov for the rest of the day. I also consumed a coddled egg.

Over breakfast, I pondered the concept of resurrection, which lead me inevitably to the transience of earthly things, and all of mankind’s inevitable fate. We shall be dust eternally, despite the gaudy lies of the Bible and the deceptive promise of the spring season.

Why do I know more than other people? Why, in general, am I so clever? I am forever alone, isolated by my own apprehension.