Night #2 in Base-Camp Shambles '73:
Sky ridiculously bright last night, despite clouds. Apocalyptically bright. So bright I didn't need my Scaredy-Cat LED Night-Lamp tm.
Rained all night, off and on, but tent dry. No were-animal attacks, tho a fox started yelping at 3am fairly near the tent, either in our garden or the neighbours. It was a weird cross between a quasi-dog noise and a mentally-disturbed child. My wife says that when some Londoner types moved down to The Marsh, the first time they heard a fox they phoned the police and told them "a baby was being murdered".
I think it was a fox. But it might've been Loki, lost and out of his mind at a Prefuse 73 gig.
Prefuse 73. Might have to have a word wi' that fella - Scott Whatsisname - about his appropriation of my own personal sacred.numerology thing. I am kinda curious where he got that number from.
Going for a piss behind a bush in the rain-smeared small hours is a bit of a drag, tho this whole experience is starting to become strangely life-affirming. Little differences - breaks from the life-cycle ruts - can often become almost Nietzschian.