Monthly Update: May 2020

Dear Diary,

It has now been 43 days since I left my office and have been working from home.  For the most part, I am still working 9am(ish) to 5pm(ish), although that can fluctuate depending on what time I manage to get out of bed and if it is already 9am by the time I make Conklederp and myself our morning coffee.  I feel like I have seen our neighborhood crows less and less over the last month, but maybe it is just breeding time for them and they would rather have wild bird sex than visiting us in the morning for their peanuts?  The cat continues to do cat things, like wanting to go outside then go back inside a few minutes later to vomit the food he ate 45 minutes before and the grass he just finished eating while outside.  I have started to use this as a method for divination and last time the Void answered my call. 

But hey, at least I no longer owe Tom Nook 93,000 bells but am now in debt for 198,000 and he reminded me of this debt last night as he crawled out from under the bed and then threw himself down the stairs headfirst.

Or maybe I just imagined it as I then wondered how the gun ended up pointed at my head after discovering that body mauled by stygians down by the docks.  The wounds on the body did look a lot like axe wounds, but there were too many hands and not enough bodies for the whole scene to make any sense.  If only the glass factory had not reflected so much of the madness around me.  But at least I seem to have earned the good graces of one Robert Throgmorton, so I have that going for me.  Which is good.

I have also found myself recently exploring the streets of Arkham, a destination I have been looking forwards to now for a couple of years.  I journeyed once on the campus with Conklederp, but our endeavor ended in failure before the Eldritch Gods could fully reveal their grand designs.  Perhaps another virtual walking tour of these accursed streets with additional investigators will improve our chances of success?

The calls from Rivia have been silent for the past couple of weeks.  It could be our connection, but I do not think it has anything to do with the power cutting out yesterday or the firemen who briefly stopped by, but they did not inquire about the missing girl, nor did they smell of gooseberries or any other type of Saxifragales.  All distractions aside, I seem to have lost the point of where my bathtub laden boi was leading me.  

So I rode on towards the sunset.

And there have been the shoot outs.  Oh, those difficult gun battles through the desert.  You remember the desert, don't you?  Always seemingly crawling with ne'er-do-wells, large birds that squawk like crows but look like giant parrots!  And what is with those strange shells that lay dormant until they spring up on some pink-fleshy post and fire upon me like I had just insulted the virtue of Miss Sally!?  But those shells are nothing but whims of convenience when confronted with the trio of blue shells covered in spikes that remain impervious no matter how much firepower is unleashed upon their devilish chitinous hides!  I will look further into these frustrations mid-month (unless I should take ill) followed by some discovered music and then a long lost conversation with the same composer of old.

What day is it?  What is the year?

I recall that the Germans lost the war in '45, but now I am not so sure.  I have been observing the trail of a lost American by the name of William, and while he seems to remain alive, against all odds, I fear that his story is coming to an end.  An end that started in 1945 but seems to be concluding in 1960.  A difficult time to be alive to be sure, but we can all agree that Nazis are evil, and punching them is okay.

That is all I have been able to parse from the dreams that haunt me whilst I wake. 

Do not send help.  Just stay away, at least six feet.

Goodbye then, dear Diary.  We shall commune again when the moon is waxing gibbously.  Until that time, sleep well sweet Dagon, may your blasphemous design wrack our sanity with your salinic embrace.



~JWfW/JDub/Cooking Crack/Jaconian
Instrumental