17 days I have spent on this boat. I don't know who used to own it, but I guess it is mine now. I wonder if anyone owns the things they used to, or do strangers own it all now. I doubt the real owners are even alive still. I doubt if many others are alive anymore. It's a really nice boat. It must have cost more than I would have ever made in 10 years, or more. The main advantage it has is it can turn seawater in potable water. Well, no, I guess the main advantage it has for me is that it is a boat.
I have been wondering what to do with my time....I seem to have so much of it now. I never had that luxury before. I never really had any luxuries other than my mostly working laptop and a few hours each working day to just be alone. Hahaha, I have lots of time to be alone now. All the time in the world to be alone... all the time of my life maybe....
I guess if I am gonna to make a record, I should establish some things first. Maybe someday my scribblings will be historical documents. Hahaha. My name is Obidar Sebastian Cortez. I won't bother to try to explain it, it just is. I used to be a maintenance worker at Walmart. That's a glorified term for a janitor. Basically I cleaned other people's messes and not for a very good wage. I used to have four children and 2 ex-wives. Or maybe I still have, I am not sure. I try not to think about it, but of course it is hard not to think about the children. I miss them and hope they are well. But I dont know if i really hope. Hoping would hurt too much.
Time passes. I hate fucking beans. Why did all tose companies make beans? Fucking pork and beans, green beans, so many green beabs. Jullian, country cut, family size, green beans every where.
Sorry, one of my poles had a fish on, and I cant pass on the opportunity to catch food. I have water, but I ran out of food 25 days after it happened. Some of the fish seem different now and I always have to be careful before I eat them. I dont know, maybe its just me. I dont dare eat any shark, or any other predatory or scavenger fish. And I never really knew much about fish to begin with. Well, I knew some about freshwater fish, but they arent in the ocean are they?
I just call the day it all happened “the Day”. But maybe my term will be the one used in history so I guess I should get a better term. Wait. Fish on.
March 18
It struck me that if this is gonna be a diary of sorts, I should list dates. It has been I think 4 or 5 days since I last wrote. I dont always have time to count the days for this, but I do keep track of them on the wall in the kitchen. Sorry, I guess its a galley on a boat. I keep track of them on the galley wall. Thats starting to fill up, so I think I will have to use some of pages of the books and the marker I found to count them soon.
The best I could come up with to name that day was “the day it all went to shit” but we already know that. So I think I will just use “shit day”.
Shit day began much as any other Monday would for me. I got off work at 7 am and was gonna just go home and spend a few hours online before I went to sleep. I always visited my son, my only son, on Mondays at 3 pm, so I liked to catch a few hours of sleep before I went so I was fresh for it. I was sitting outside on my favorite rock (the flat one that didnt hurt my ass if I sat for a while on it) thinking about that novel I was gonna write. I knew I wasnt ever gonna write it, but I liked to think about it.
It had everything, space travel, a beautiful girl who was mine I named Jenko and adventure. Everything my life lacked and everything I wanted. Independence, freedom, adventure and the safety of a lifelong relationship. Everyone else was heading off, and saying their good nights. Being over night crew, mornings were our nights. Sometimes I didnt feel like jumping on my bike and riding the 6 miles to my place right off. It was in a bedroom community. Out in the country basically. I remember the stockers had all ended their 20 minute gab fest and had left when I noticed how quiet it
