Well, we had some drama today.

Drama 1. Course correction. My mission has a new… well, mission. I’m being diverted towards something, I haven’t ascertained what but I’ve slowly started pitching what I would describe as left and down, but that’s only if I imagine myself lying flat on my back on the back of the ship.

The computer won’t explain why it’s happening, only that new coordinates have been specified so I opened up the emergency comms line to ask about it and they said pretty much the same thing, and that they’d get back to me.

I only noticed because I’d been up staring at shield. I have a certain spot I lie in, where, with the light on, there’s one very bright star shining between the first manifold out from the centre, which is then matched by a dimmer star in the next manifold and so on for the first five.

At first I thought I was lying in a different spot but no matter where I moved I couldn’t make it line up unless I pivoted so my feet were out over the hatch. It’s barely been three weeks but this ship already feels like an extension of me, it’s a bit like my bedroom at my parents house, where you know every part of it and no one is allowed in to interfere with stuff.

On reflection, maybe this is my tabernacle? Would be funny if the course correction was to meet god. You’d think he could come to me. Doesn’t seem like too much to ask from an omnipotent being.

Drama 2. Something went wrong with the booze supply and I’m cut off. Again, no help from the computer, although I watched both series of Twin Peaks over the last couple of days so I suspect it’s being deliberately gnomic.

Things to never watch. War of the worlds. Lawnmower man, 2001 a space oddity.

Feeling this sober shouldn’t be a problem, but I guess I’d got in to a bit of a habit of being a bit drunk for quite a bit of the time. No matter, I can focus on other things.

Drama 3. The alarm is not only still going, it getting slightly louder I think, although frustratingly I do not have a decibelometer or whatever it’s called, to prove it. So I’ve increasingly had to put on music loud enough to drown it out. The shape of the ship is an echo chamber, so quite effective for acoustics, but obviously that applies to the alarm too.

And again, no word from mission Control for any of that so you can dial my frustrated.

Missisippi John Hurt has been drowning it all out for me, although I’ve quickly used up his entire catalogue on board, so it’s all on repeat for now.

So, with no resolution I am getting myself buff as hell on the fitness equipment rather than annoyed as hell. When I meet god maybe we can arm wrestle.

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