The universe wants to play with you (part eleven)

Walking to work at night. Is shit. Walking to work and then spending 10 hours standing around. Is more shit. Three days before the car's back. And that's shit too.

Meeting Hawthorn for breakfast isn't shit. Exciting day, wish I had one sometime.

Tell her about Dick-hard going, even universe essay. Must read more stuff like that. Weird but made sense.

Reality ain't what it used to be.
Maybe it never was or maybe it always is. Ha, ha, ha...

Reminds me of Ethan, always talking about conspiracies, everything was a conspiracy but there's a lot it about, like fucking rain. Everyday mud-just when it looks like it's over, it starts again.

Dwarf thing has to be something-student prank is bollocks. Wonder what Hawthorn thinks about this sort of thing. Not sure of what I think.

Not sure what I think about anything anymore. Nothing so simple as black and white. Got to stop smoking. At least in the car, it's only a one smoke journey; by foot it's two. And I can't listen to music-never wear headphones when walking or you will die.

That house never has lights on, never seen anyone in it but there's never anything sticking out the mailbox.

There's an air about it-much older than the others-looks like a black and white still from old movie. Very un-kiwi.

Mind you, the factory's odd and old-Don't really understand why they want security. Nothing much left in it and been empty for months and huge fences.

Fergus thinks he owns it, making me do a checklist every hour. Don't sleep, keep to the schedule, ring me before the police-ready for another tour of duty then?

Hate this last bit of the hill-welcome to the void of another 12 hours on my own when the gate opens.

"Good Evening Sanders. Ready for another tour of duty then?"