by Stephen King
I made the letters again, but it took me most of the day and now I'm exhausted. Looked for a crab where I found the other, but nothing. Cut my hands on several of the rocks I used for the sign, but disinfected them promptly with iodine in spite of my weariness. Have to take care of my hands. No matter what.
Feb 15
A gull landed on the tip of the rockpile today. Flew away before I could get in range. I wished it into hell, where it could peck out Father Hailley's bloodshot little eyes through eternity.
Ha! Ha!
Ha! Ha!
Ha!
Feb 17(?)
Took off my right leg at the knee, but lost a lot of blood. Pain excruciating in spite of heroin. Shock-trauma would have killed a lesser man. Let me answer with a question: How badly does the patient want to survive? How badly does the patient want to live?
Hands trembling. If they are betraying me, I'm through. They have no right to betray me. No right at all. I've taken care of them all their lives. Pampered them. They better not. Or they'll be sorry.
At least I'm not hungry.
One of the boards from the lifeboat had split down the middle. One end came to a point. I used that. I was drooling but I made myself wait. And then I got thinking of . . . oh, barbecues we used to have. That place Will Hammersmith had on Long Island, with a barbecue pit big enough to roast a whole pig in. We'd be sitting on the porch in the dusk with big drinks in our hands, talking about surgical techniques or golf scores or something. And the breeze would pick up and drift the sweet smell of roasting pork over to us. Judas Iscariot, the sweet smell of roasting pork.
Feb?
Took the other leg at the knee. Sleepy all day. "Doctor was this operation necessay?" Haha. Shaky hands, like an old man. Hate them. Blood under the fingernails. Scabs. Remember that model in med school with the glass belly? I feel like that. Only I don't want to look. No way no how. I remember Dom used to say that. Waltz up to you on the street comer in his Hiway Outlaws club jacket. You'd say Dom how'd you make out with her'? And Dom would say no way no how. Shee. Old Dom. I wish I'd stayed right in the neighborhood. This sucks so bad as Dom would say. haha.
But I understand, you know, that with the proper therapy, and prosthetics, I could be as good as new. I could come back here and tell people "This. Is where it. Happened."
Hahaha!
February 23 (?)
Found a dead fish. Rotten and stinking. Ate it anyway. Wanted to puke, wouldn't let myself. I will survive. So lovely stoned, the sunsets.
February
Don't dare but have to. But how can I tie off the femoral artery that high up? It's as big as a fucking turnpike up there.
Must, somehow. I've marked across the top of the thigh, the part that is still meaty. I made the mark with this pencil.
I wish I could stop drooling.
Fe
You . . . deserve . . . a break today . . . sooo… get up and get away ... to McDonald's ,.. two all-beef patties ... special sauce… lettuce… pickles… onions... on a . . . sesame seed bun . . .
Dee... deedee… dundadee . . .
Febba
Looked at my face in the water today. Nothing but a skin-covered skull. Am I insane yet? I must be. I'm a monster now, a freak. Nothing left below the groin. Just a freak. A head attached to a torso dragging itself along the sand by the elbows. A crab. A stoned crab. Isn't that what they call themselves now? Hey man I'm just a poor stoned crab can you spare me a dime.
Hahahaha
They say you are what you eat and if so I
HAVEN'T CHANGED A BIT!
Dear God shock-trauma shock-trauma
THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS SHOCK-TRAUMA
HA
Fe/40?
Dreaming about my father. When he was drunk he lost all his English. Not that he had anything worth saying anyway. Fucking dipstick. I was so glad to get out of your house Daddy you fucking greaseball dipstick nothing cipher zilcho zero. I knew I'd made it. I walked away from you, didn't I? I walked on my hands.
But there's nothing left for them to cut off. Yesterday I took my earlobes
left hand washes the right don't let your left hand know what your right hands doing one potato two potato three potato four we got a refrigerator with a store-more door hahaha.
Who cares, this hand or that. good food good meat good God let's eat.
lady fingers they taste just like lady fingers
FB2 document info
Document ID: 261263b6-420f-4c93-9b5c-dd1a0ea44e70
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 20.3.2012
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Document authors :
Stephen King
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