Notes from the Future: Felonious Monk

February 2, 2005

I've found this Mead Composition book, labeled JOURNAL, 2005, with a fresh Uniball Micro pen taped to the front. It's blank inside, so clearly I've left this for myself. I'm writing, this feels good. I have a deep need to record everything, to transcribe everything that has happened. Maybe to make sense of it.

Future Me just left. Popped out, as it were. I'm in a lot of pain, but I'm waiting to take any painkillers -- I want to see how bad the pain gets, so I can gauge my recovery; I also don't want to be dependent on painkillers. I'll take some in about an hour. Maybe six.

Future Me has set us up well in this tent. I have a lot of food, paper, pens, pencils, a scientific calculator, a laptop (not mine, as far as I know), painkillers of various sorts. These include Ibuprofen, Tylenol, Aspirin, Morphine, Marijuana, Opium and some other substances of whose painkilling efficacy I am uncertain: Salvia Divinorum, Sceletium Tortuosum and what appears to be a large bag of dried, vacuum-packed Psilocybin mushrooms. Future me has been quite the Felonious Monk these past ten years; were I to sell the contents of these bags, I believe I would net many thousands of dollars. Not knowing what the going rate is on any of these substances -- not the Ibuprofen and Aspirin and such, but the Weed, Opium, Shrooms -- I don't know if it would be wiser to simply hold onto them for a later day or if I'm supposed to sell them and invest the money ...

Now there's an interesting idea. It's 2005. The Market hasn't shitbombed, yet. In fact, I could use what I know about what's coming to make a killing. Is that what I did? Knowing me, I can't believe I didn't leave detailed instructions somewhere. If Veronica ever reads this journal, she will scoff at that. But in times of crisis, I am and have always been a detailed instruction sort of fellow. It's why I do well in theatre, as theatre is one crisis after another. So laugh, laugh, laugh, honey, and observe that I am certain I'll see you again. In spite of what appears to be overwhelming evidence to the contrary.

The best thing to do seems to be to make a detailed inventory of everything in here, from left to right. So:

One Gregory backpack, fairly new, suitable for long hauls.

One Primus campstove with ten large fuel canisters. That's a lot.

A flat of canned Hormel meats, the labels in Chinese and Spanish -- clearly I am still a fan of Grocery Outlet.

A stuff bag full of canned Sardines: plain, in mustard sauce, in Louisiana Hot Sauce, pickled Herrings. Those sound tasty.

Wow, an entire filebox of pre-made dried meals, clearly made and labeled by me:

     Ten Tasty Taco and Mashed Potato mixes.

     Ten Chicken Curry and Coconut Rice mixes

     Ten Hearty Beef Stew and Spanish Rice mixes. (Did I mix the Mashed Potato and Spanish Rice up?)

     Ten Spicy Chinese Noodle, Good For Your Heart, Live Long Time and Steamed Rice mixes.

     Ten Pudding Surprise mixes

     Ten Berry Cobbler mixes

     Ten Banana Cream Mash-up mixes

     Ten Butterscotch Dream mixes

And, behind that, three other boxes, all the same as this first one. I hope I get to eat elsewhere at some point. It all sounds delicious but I don't want to get bored.

Three flats of instant Oatmeal

Three flats of instant Malt-O-Meal

Three flats of Corned Beef Hash

Four gigantic family-sized boxes of powdered milk.

I've made kind of a mess going through all of these things, I'm going to put them back where I found them; he left it organized, so I should honor that. Clearly, something has changed. 

Done. Feels good to be organized.  Man, my ass is uncomfortable, is this sleeping bag on a rock?

Oh. It's on a bundle wrapped in plastic, marked TO EDWARD HIGHTOWER, FEBRUARY 2005, OPEN ME RIGHT AWAY

Okay. I've used a handy utility razor to cut through the plastic and packing tape on the outside, and there's a letter inside that begins, "Don't bother transcribing this letter. Just tape it into your journal. Tape is in this package. Do it now." So I'm doing it now. Here's the letter:

"Tad,

Don't bother transcribing this letter. Just tape it into your journal. Tape is in this package. Do it now. Good. So: you should have taken some Ibuprofen and changed your clothes. You'll be leaving, soon --"

POP