Prison Journal

This is the third day of my captivity.

Already I am giving in to despair. The walls are closing in on me, and I feel I shall never see daylight or breathe fresh air again. I must be strong, I must be strong.

I must think of The Artist, who may yet be waiting for me upon my release.... whenever that day may come. I must be strong, I must be strong.

As John Clare (a fine, self-educated 'peasant' poet of the early 19th Century, who, tragically, spent most of his later years confined in a mental institution) once said:
"I envy e'en the fly his gleams of joy..."

If I don't get my e-mail back soon..... BAD things will happen! ("What they be, yet I know not; but they shall be the terrors of the earth!")

My mind trudges from one side of my tiny cyber-cell to the other, and back again, and back again, and back again. This blog is now my only window on the world. A barred window, but a window nonetheless.

"No TV and no beer make Homer go mad."