March 19th, 1986:
I haven’t seen Mike since yesterday. It’s odd, we are together all the time since we got here. I know I used to hate Mike when we worked together, but being the only two survivors of the shipwreck has pretty much made us best friends. It wasn’t easy at first, having to share the little food we had left, or having to work together to build the shelter... but I really love the guy. We have helped each other through this, keeping our hopes that someday we’ll be rescued.

March 21st, 1986:
I have been searching for Mike for two days now, with no signs of him anywhere. I went into the woods, the cave, I even checked the swamps. We never went to the swamps, it was too dangerous... My hopes are beginning to fade away, I really need to find him. This is the first time I have cried since the shipwreck. I don’t think I can go through with this without him.

March 23rd, 1986:
I’m giving up on Mike. He’s gone. Maybe he killed himself. Maybe he was eaten by a shark. I can’t stop sobbing. I want to die now, but I’m too scared of pain for me to kill myself...

March 27th, 1986:
They say time slows down when you are bored... or sad... I can now say that it’s true. It’s been such a long time since I’ve been here, I don’t even remember what I look like. I feel this bumps and blisters on my face and I’m glad I can’t even look at them... My worst fear may have come true, as I feel I have been disfigured for a long time now. I miss Mike a lot. Where did you go, buddy?

March 29th, 1986:
I can’t even remember the last time I went to the bushes to go pee. I may have been peeing on my pants for days now, or I may have been going to the bushes like I used to when I got here. It’s all a blank. And the flies that surround me all day long can’t let me think properly. I must smell awful, but I can’t even sense it.

March 30th, 1986:
I haven’t eaten since yesterday. Or perhaps since the day before? My stomach feels weird. The walls of my stomach have come closer, almost closing it entirely. The odd part is that I don’t feel any pain. I don’t even know if this is hunger or an indigestion, like the many we were used to suffer by trying out different foods from the island.

April 1st, 1986:
I think I haven’t slept in three days straight. Or maybe it’s been five, ten, or even fifteen days now. Insomnia can be pretty rough when you have nothing to do, and it’s even worse when it’s dark like this. I have been paying attention to all the noises that happen in the night. These nights are so rich, so powerful and full of emotions. Yet I can’t feel them properly. I just listen and think, but I can’t make anything out of it.

April 4th, 1986:
Each day seems longer than the one before. I can’t find my watch. That watch has been loyal to us for such a long time. But I can’t find it, I wonder if Mike took it with him when he left.

April 9th, 1986:
I decided to go for a walk today. I feel somewhat strong, even though it’s been days since my last bite. I walk and it’s like I don’t even feel my legs moving, but I keep going. I feel like I’m dead inside, but yet I can still move around. I have lost my appetite, my sense of touch, and I pretty much don’t feel any pain. It’s like I’m empty inside. Yet I’m surviving.

April 15th, 1986:
I have been taking these walks on a daily basis now. It feels good to wander around on the island, yet I feel so empty inside. I’m starting to forget about Mike. I don’t miss him much anymore, maybe it’s part of this feeling of emptiness I’ve been experiencing.

April 18th, 1986:
I looked down from the top of the hill and I saw what appeared to be a grave. I had not seen that before, and it’s strange, because it’s not so far from where Mike and used to send out smoke signals. I’m going for a closer look tomorrow.

April 19th, 1986:
I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw it. The grave had an inscription with my name on it. And Mike’s lifeless body was lying on the sand roughly ten feet away. Am I dead? Why can’t I stop crying? I can't stop crying, yet I feel so empty inside.

Entry #17: It’s about a week since my watch stopped. Rain last night put out the fire again. I have a newfound and deep respect for cavemen—getting a fire going is not as easy as it looks in the movies. I burned several of my earlier entries as kindling. Did not miss anything—they were full of garbage about how grateful to God I was for my life being spared, and how I looked at this as a great opportunity to adjust my priorities, and lose those extra 5 pounds. The heck with all that! I searched my soul and found a fat happy guy who drinks beer and smokes everyday. And that’s what I am going to do when I get back home.

Entry #22: Found some more debris from the wreck washed up on the western shore. The sail will make a great tent. Might use it as a tarp to keep my firewood dry—rains a lot here, where ever that is. Found myself thinking about that time Tony said everyone should have a GPS chip implanted so no one would get kidnapped or anything. I said it was too much like Big Brother. Tell you what; wish I had one right now.

Entry #26: I must be losing it: I saw something like an island off the north point. Wasn’t there before, but the sea was very calm today. No rain for the first time since I got here. I hope they see my signal fire soon. I am running out of water and I am really getting tired of fish.

Entry #27: Rain again. It just occurred to me that I should be collecting the rainwater. I did not think I would need it because, you know, everyone is looking for me. How can there be a place these days that no one knows about? I radioed my position just before that last wave got my boat...why aren’t they here yet?

Entry #36: Third day of sun in a row. Swam out a little from the north point and saw the island again. It must be there, this isn’t the first time I saw it. Just on the horizon, maybe a bit closer. Got a good batch of fish, lost a couple to the gulls. I am getting too good at catching fish. Maybe I should try to catch the gulls.

Entry #49: I thought all day long about the ultimate list of what I miss the most. #5 is beer; #4 cigarettes; #3 pillows; #2 ketchup; and #1, I really miss toilet paper.

Entry #66: Let the fire die, had to burn a few pages. They didn’t make sense anyways. I was going on about all the sun…whatever, I am getting a nice tan. I see that north island everyday now. I go out and look each morning so it doesn’t go away. Doesn’t look too far off. I bet it is bigger than this sand bar. The rest of the gulls left—guess none of them wanted to stick around to see who was next.

Entry #75: Went out off the north point for some fishing and now I am certain that island is way better than mine. I could make out some sounds coming from it. Could have been birds. Maybe that’s where the gulls went. Well, if they could make it, so can I.

Entry #82: My raft fell apart a ways off shore. I barely made it back, but I was so close to the northern island. I could smell a barbeque, and I think I made out some party music. It must be a resort island.

Entry #96: It must be tourist season over there, I smell the luau constantly, and the music is so loud. I can hear them dancing the conga all night long. It is starting to keep me up. How am I supposed to sleep with all that racket going on over there?

Entry #107: I cannot get a moment’s peace. No matter where I go, I hear them all laughing and singing, dancing and banging the drums. What kind of neighbor is that? I just want some nice quiet on my little island here, catch my fish and roast it up nice. I like fish. I am glad I get to have it every day. Not like that sickening burnt pig smell wafting over here.

Entry #114: Well, that’s it. I was off the southern shore washing the fetid pig smell from my sail-tarp, and I lost hold of it, and now its gone. It’s their fault. I wouldn’t have been washing my sail if it didn’t stink so bad. And I hear fireworks now on top of all the drums and laughter. I know they are doing it on purpose just to spite me. I yelled over to them the other day to keep it down, and right after that, the fireworks started. I’m just going to have to go over there. Shouldn’t take me more than 20 minutes to swim out to them. I’ll let you know how it went when I get back.

It has been two weeks today. Up until two weeks ago I had a full life. What has happened to my family and I is a horror beyond any nightmare.

It was supposed to be the best vacation ever. For the first time since our children had grown to adulthood, we were all going together. There would be 12 of us: our three children, their spouses and our four grandchildren.

After flying to Bermuda, we chartered a boat and took off
for what was to be a week of fun and togetherness.

One night, as we were all sleeping, something went terribly wrong. The boat was rocking wildly. The captain of the boat told us there was a hurricane coming up fast and to put on lifejackets and stay below deck.
We all huddled together holding onto each other and anything we could get a grip on. Then the boat started to break apart.
The next thing I knew we were all in the freezing water.
Oh God, I tried so hard to find my wife and children. But it was pitch black, thundering and raining. The agony of hearing their screams and not being able to reach them ripped me apart. I must have passed out because I woke up on a strip of sand.

I have managed to survive. I think the only reason I try so hard to stay alive is my desperate hope that somehow my family was found and rescued. I despair because I know if they haven't found me by now, the probability of them being alive is small. Still I cling to my hope.

Lord, if I am the only survivor, please tell me why? Our children (all married for under 6 years) had their whole lives ahead of them. And why the babies? My precious, precious grandbabies...only 2,3,4 and 5 years old! Did they suffer? We're any of them aware they were going to die? Stop it! I cannot think of these things!

My thoughts wander a lot. I now know what starvation is. I think of all the times I'd say I was starving. I never knew what that word meant before. I thought I knew what fear was. I didn't have a clue. The loneliness and despair I feel is so deep that it swallows me up. It physically racks my whole body, mind and soul.
The full realization of what I've lost weighs down on me like an anchor. In my little shelter, I fall asleep holding onto tree branches that I've tied together. I hug them and pretend they are my family.

My dear wife, we shared so much love for over 30 years. It wasn't enough! You were the backbone of our whole family. In your gentle, sweet way you always managed to patch up any arguments in the family. You could soothe any hurts and quietly supported all of us. I thought I was the strong one who took care of everyone; but, it was always you, my love.

Oh how I miss my wonderful children. They made me
so proud to be their daddy. My grandbabies gave me such joy! Just smelling them after their baths, holding them, playing with them and being their Papa meant more to me than words can describe. Such simple pleasures, yet such powerful, wondrous blessings. Lord, if we had to die why couldn't we have all gone together? Am I being punished? I feel what Job must have felt.

I was husband, daddy and Papa. All who
I love more than anything on earth...gone in precious minutes. I do not want to live without them. I cannot bear the weight of this pain and agony of the soul.

I am an empty shell now... physically and mentally. I can now ignore the hunger. The fear has also passed. The only thing I feel right now is sorrow, loss and a deep fatique. I am so very weary and tired.

Maybe tomorrow...maybe tomorrow...I'll see them again.

I was sitting in my usual spot in the tree on the south shore when I realized I can't remember the last time I dreamed of my wife. It used to be nearly every night I would get to see her, get to be in the living room, watching TV or sitting at the computer while she gently accepted the amount of time I spent paying attention to other things.

I also realized that I could spend much greater amounts of time between patrols of the shore looking for ships. I drove myself f**king nuts the first few weeks, months even, constantly worried that I would miss something by being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I've come to realize there's nothing to miss. Not a ship, not a plane, not even any debris washes up here. I've been through 4 rainy seasons, but for all I know the rains come at 6-month intervals.

Then, of all things, I thought about the times I would drive home from Ed's with some weed in the car, sometimes with a couple beers in me, thinking Dear God don't let me get busted. I know now I could easily do time. At least there'd be somebody to talk to.

I wouldn't mind finding a plant on this island that would do the trick. None of the seeds I salvaged came up, but I'm not surprised because the loads weren't any good when I found them. My efforts at fermentation still haven't produced anything I have the nerve to drink. There's nothing to lose, but I just can't bring myself to try it.

I know I've written this a thousand times, but I'm sick of living on bananas and lizard. One of these days I'm going to get one of the damn birds that scoop up all the clams before I can get to them. I've managed to fit some spear-throwing practice into my busy schedule. No lobster since one of the b*****ds bit me. Believe it or not, I was tired of them too. Butter makes a world of difference. All I have is salt, and it's hardly worth the effort to collect. If lizard wasn't so damn nasty, I wouldn't bother at all.

I thought I'd wiped out the frogs that are pissing in my fresh water, but there was a bunch of tadpoles in there today. I've got a new pointy stick ready for when they're big enough to gig. If I knew what a poisonous frog looked like, I might try one, but just like the banana mush liquor, I'm not ready for that risk.

I came close the day the wreckage disappeared. I would go down to the remains of the boat every morning and stare at it, waiting for the big idea to come to me so I could get the hell out of here. There'd been a bad storm, and when I came out of the cave, trees were down all over the place, my fire was out, my food was scattered and trashed, and the boat was gone. I stood waist deep in the ocean and debated swimming away. When I saw a shark fin, I got out of the water, and I knew I wasn't ready to quit.

I've decided that tomorrow will be Sunday. It's been a while since I've done any meditating or said a prayer. Weather permitting, I'll hold the services on the north shore, closest to my wife.

I believe this journal shall be my savior, a friend in my desolate world. I have already been stranded here for over a week, an interminable season of withering hopes. But even as I write these few words I feel I have found a tentative foothold in regaining my sanity. When I first arrived, it had seemed so surreal, I had stared at the wreckage for days. I felt that, somehow, if I denied the lurid truth of my situation I would awake from a slightly unpleasant dream. But that dream quickly became a nightmare, and my blissful ignorance was shattered into millions of tiny rivulets of rain.
It wasn’t long before the storm was in full force, screaming at me, boasting its superiority. As I cowered for a whole night and half a day, the storm raged around me, threatening to swallow me into its mighty belly. Finally, after an eternity of mind consuming fear, the seething beast retreated, dissipating into a silent peace.
I wept, I wept. I bathed in my tearful self-pity, why me? Each night I lay down, close my eyes and expect never to open them again. I welcome the release of death, I long for its sweet embrace. But I refuse to give myself to that shadow, that eternal sleep, he must take me if he is to have me.

4/24/03
It is hopeless.

4/27/03
I’ve come back to you my friend, I’ve come to you for help. Another storm has ravaged me, violated my heart, and the only solace I have is reflecting with you. I’m not sure how to go on, I barely have the strength to write with this pen, I can no longer gather food.
This pen...this journal...a miracle you are my friend. And you shall help me preserve my mind. But my sanity is worthless now, because each day my body shrivels, I’m so hungry.

4/28/03
A second miracle! Oh my friend, I had forgotten what hope felt like, my heart beats quickly, I feel more alive than I ever have. Laying in hopeless agony, unable to even raise my arms, I came to accept my fate. But the feeling of helplessness inspired within me an epiphany. A fleeting spark of memory...roots! Somehow I knew that the roots could save me. With all I had left I tore a small plant from the lose soil. I gnawed slowly, weakly, on the bitter roots. But they sustained me! They are more substantial than anything I have found. Even now I can feel my strength returning to me.
I will not give in, death can not have me...I must live.

5/02/03
Forgive me for neglecting you so. My days have seemed so busy, and even...invigorating. It hardly took more than a day longer on the roots before I was strong enough. The first thing I did was fashion an axe and hammer, using braided reeds to fasten rocks to branches.
With my two tools I began creating a shelter. Using lots of braided reeds I have fastened branches together and formed a roof and a wall. Employing them between two boulders has given me a small and humble place where the rain can not reach me.
The rest of my time has been spent weaving countless reeds, and tomorrow I plan on catching fish with my new net!

5/04/03
Oh dear friend, fishing is an exhausting chore. But it is more than worth it, I was never a big fan of sushi, but I feel stronger than ever. My efforts to start a fire have not prevailed, but I will survive. I have to survive.

5/07/03
Dear, dear friend, you have kept me alive. I sit here now with peace in my heart. I no longer just survive, I grow stronger each day. I even attempted hunting for meat yesterday, I made a heavy spear. I was not successful, but by the end of my efforts I had already improved my accuracy and distance greatly.
And this morning I awoke to a beautiful sun rise. I enjoyed, for the first time I sat and reveled in it beauty, its peerless wonder. And as the sun rose into the illuminating sky I dreamed of leaving this damned place, of going home. This dream did not break my spirit, it revived it once again! Because this silent reverie was not hopeless, it is more than tangible. I must grow much stronger, and I will have to create a strong boat. I will need food and water to take with me, and better clothes.
My friend, thank you for giving me hope. I will grasp that dream and sail from here back to my old life, to my family and friends. I will.

Day Two
I feel a panic setting in that is almost paralyzing. My buddy, Mike, is lying in a shallow grave.
Our plane went down right before dawn yesterday. We didn't file a flight plan and didn't tell anyone we were going.
I still don't know what went wrong. The plane stalled and we went down, crashing in the shallow water beside this deserted beach. Mike died instantly. I am pretty sure I broke my wrist and I am covered in deep bruises. My insides hurt.
Yesterday is pretty much of a blur. I remember screaming Mike's name over and over. I managed to drag him to the beach. I just sat by him and cried. I have no idea how long I sat there before I pulled Mike into the tree line and dug a little grave with some sticks and my good hand. I put Mike in and covered him with rocks. Then I lay down beside him and fell into an exhausted sleep.
I woke up this morning freezing and in agony. I waded out to the plane to find whatever I thought I could use to help me survive. The radio was dead. All I found was a cigarette lighter, cigarettes, a first-aid kit, a blanket, some bottled water and a 6 pack of beer. I found my Dayplanner and laid out the pages, pen, pencil, lighter and smokes to dry.
I need to try to build a fire. I can't spend another night in the cold. Will anyone ever see this? Does anyone know I’m gone yet? Lord, I'm so cold, so frightened and so alone. I'm going to drink another beer then go to sleep. Maybe I’m dreaming.

Third Day

I'm having trouble focusing. What happened to us Mike? We were so invincible and carefree. The world was ours and we had all the time in the world to live it. I’m only 25 years old. Was it just a few days ago I felt on top of the world?
I keep thinking about my baby son. Jonathan, will I ever hold you again? And, Nicki, why didn't I marry you? I love you. I just thought there would be time. I wasn't ready yet. What a fool I was. I HAVE to try to survive. Damn it I want to live. This is not fair! I will survive and I will make everything right.

Evening now

Here I sit writing to myself to keep from going crazy. I’ve found shelter inside a little cave. I have my first fire going. Thank God my lighter dried out. I slept this afternoon on the beach and baked my skin. I dug up worms, grubs and bugs to eat. I even ate some leaves. Now, I'm throwing up and having diahrrea. I'm so thirsty. I'm almost out of water. I don't have the strength to try to boil any. This can't be happening.

Fourth day

I fell asleep with pen and paper in hand and my blanket wrapped around me. I woke up freezing and stiff. My wrist throbs, my head is exploding, my stomach hurts and it's an effort to even breathe.
Mom, I miss you. I'm sorry for all the worry I caused you. I was always embarrassed when you called me your baby. Mom, I want you so much right now and I'm proud to be your baby. I need you to hold me, mom. Dad, I love you so much. I'm sorry, so sorry for the grief this will cause you both. Please take care of Jonathan and Nicki. Tell them how much I love them. I don't expect to survive. I feel hope seeping away.
I now realize, too late, that I should have tried harder the first two days here to survive. I was so sure I’d be found.
I keep thinking I see Jonathan, Nicki and my parents. I will see them and talk to them and then they go away. I reach out my arms and beg them to come back. They don't and I am left lonelier than I've ever thought possible.
It's getting too dark to write. I only have a little fire left. This is my last entry. I feel myself slipping away.
I have prayed to the God of my youth to give me peace, to take the fear, pain and guilt away. The guilt and regret are the worst. Guilt for so many unsaid things to loved ones, so much left undone.
He came to me and said, "Peace, my child, my peace I give to you. Fear not, for I am with you always." My heart soars. The pain, hunger, fear and regrets are gone. I am going home. I'm not alone anymore. I see the angel coming to get me...

April 22, 2003
I think the monkeys are on to me. I’m still not positive, but I’ll bet you 4 golden coconuts that Bobu’s been reading my diary. It’s weird because I specifically remember telling him that my diary was “off limits.” You can even ask Stinkhands! He was there when I told Bobu, and he usually tells the truth..

Anyway, I’ve become suspicious because lately it’s taken a lot more coaxing to get them to do my laundry, and when it comes back it looks like it’s barely been scrubbed! HELLLLOOO!? I only have one pair of tattered pants, I would like them to be clean! They’re just not the same group of buddy-monkeys that they used to be when I first became their king.

Ok, so maybe I did say that Ping-Ping looks like she’s eaten a few too many bananas, but look at her! Aren’t monkeys supposed to have feet? And it’s not even like I was the first one to say anything, I mean if those monkeys want to point the finger then take a look at Cross-eyed Pete. He may look innocent, but obviously they’ve never heard the phrase, “NEVER TRUST A CROSS-EYED MONKEY!”

I wish they’d just let bygones be bygones, but for some reason these monkeys sure know how to hold a grudge. Ok, so I ate a couple monkeys during my first week on the island! I’m sorry! I was starving, and as it turns out, monkeys are good eatin’. A grudge against their king isn’t going to bring those delicious monkeys back. Where would they be without me anyway? I gave those monkeys jobs! If it weren’t for me those monkeys would be unemployed and sitting on their hairy dumpers doing whatever it is that unemployed island-monkeys do. And who would sing them campfire songs if I wasn’t here? Hinderscratch? Yeah right, if I hear that marble-mouth sing “Roxanne” one more time, I think I’m going to snap.

Sometimes I wish I was stranded with more than just a Hello Kitty diary and a Gel-Pen. But then again, if it weren’t for my sticky fingers I wouldn’t even have those. I still don’t feel guilty for swiping the diary, I mean, a curious cat need’s his mystery milk right? And it’s not even like “Ashley” would miss it, she only wrote in here once a month, and it wasn’t even that juicy. Although I do wonder if “Rob the Hotty” ever asked her to the dance and if “Rob Winklestein” still eats his boogers. I guess I’ll never know..

But I digress…Back to the problem at hand. I think the monkeys have realized that I’ve been tampering with the elections. But I can’t let the monkey-union-legislation pass! Why do these hairy turds want to form a union anyway? We all agreed on five bananas and half of a coconut every day, what more do they want? Every day it gets harder to watch them build my bamboo palace because it looks like they don’t even want to build it. But why do they have to get angry at me for every little problem? If you monkeys don’t like building the palace blame I. M. Panzee, he’s the one who designed the blueprint!

Well I better get going, I hear some arguing coming from the palace. I better break it up before the poo starts flying again. I still don’t know why they get mad when I tell them to clean it up, if it’s that big of a deal maybe they should think before they fling. Oh well, monkeys will be monkeys I guess.

Dear journal,

I ran out of paper today. It's a good thing that I've been preparing for this for a year and a half. I have plenty of dried plam tree leaves to scribble on. But I'll try to cut down my writing, because wrestling that giant octopus isn't worth the ink anymore. He's getting tougher and tougher to get into the Figure Four, now that he knows how to counter it.

I still can't get used to the fact that Banana Tree #274 is gone. That fit of insanity I had took the life of an innocent bystander, and for that I will forever feel guilty. I was such a monster. But from tragedy comes experience, and I've come to value my life more. I will live on, for the sake of Banana Tree #274.

Lately, Elvis and I have been getting into a couple arguments over what's going on in the music scene now. He thinks cause he was in the biz, he knows more than me. But he wasn't in civilization when the Hamster Dance took over. I expect a bunch of dance songs about animals, sung by cartoons. I tried to explain to him what techno music is, but he kept of mumbling "disco, disco" over and over again, and screaming. Elvis says that before he ate the last guy on the island, they used to have the same conversations. I don't know whether to take that as a compliment or a threat. He has been eyeing me funny for the past few years. But I got nothing against the guy. He made me into the master of air guitar that I am today.

Well, looks like I'm gonna have to cut this entry short. There's a wild boar looking like he's ready to charge, and I know he's not gonna slaughter, skin, clean, gut and cook himself. So I guess I gotta get going. I'll see you tomorrow. But hopefully not.

This is an excerpt from a journal that was found soaking wet floating on a vessel constructed of crude wooden planks. Nothing is known about the author or his (or her) whereabouts.

April 12 (Approximately)

By my count, I have been on this god-forsaken speck of dirt for 128 days, give or take a few. This is the first day since the beginning when the sun has decided not to shine on me. Ironically, today is also the day I have completed my makeshift raft, which I would be testing right now were it not for the rain. Now my only choice is to abandon the shelter I have taken underneath a palm tree and make my way back to the cave in which I live…

…As I write this, the paper is getting wet not only from the rain, but also for my tears. The rain has filled up my cave and washed away the fire I kept going day and night. Now I have no choice but to sit here, shivering, underneath a palm tree. In all my life I have never known despair such as this. It could take me days to gather the material required to start another fire. Fortunately, the rain seems to be clearing up, so it looks as though I will be able to sleep under the stars tonight.

April 13

This morning I woke up in a cold sweat. Waking up in this manner is something that I have become accustomed to during my stay on this island that I have sarcastically dubbed “Eden.” My cold sweats are normally caused by recurring nightmares. You’d be amazed at what your brain can conjure when it has no human interaction. Today’s cold sweat, however, was somewhat different in that it was accompanied by a pounding headache and a sore throat. I’m worried that I might be getting a cold, and last night certainly didn’t make it better…

…Yes, I certainly have a cold. Without any medicine or good hearty food, this could possibly become very serious. I’ve made it this far, why would God strike me down now?

April 14

My cave stil hasn’t dried out and my cold is getting worse. I can’t walk very far because I get dizzy and weak. I can barely write this down, my fever is so bad. I think I need to get some more sleep…that would probably do me good…

…I woke up because of a sensation on my face. It’s raining now. I’m worried that this might be the end…I can’t go through another rainstorm with this fever, and now I’m having frequent coughing fits. My last resort is to set sail on my raft and hope that I can somehow make it to civilization…

April 15

I’m on my raft now, which I have sarcastically dubbed the “Titanic.” It floats terribly. The only way I can stay above the surface of the water is to hold onto the raft with my arms and dangle the rest of my body into the ocean. I’m beginning to feel very weak now…I think I’ll sleep some more…

A quick note- This is my first entry on the site. I realize i probably shouldn't have entered an advanced contest first, but it seemed like fun. Comments are welcome and appreciated.

Day I
Dammnit! i'm lost again. I don't know if it's just bad luck or if God hates me, but i'm shipwrecked for the third time. Yes, it was stupid to take the boat out. Yes, by now I should know that those winds were too strong. Yes, I should have paid to have the radio fixed. But you only live once, you know? And I got rescued the other times, so there's no reason to think i won't be this time. Right? And at least I know how to survive by now.

Day II
Going pretty much as it did last time. Built a lean-to out of palms and a large rock. Drank coconut milk and ate it. Not too many other food trees on this island. I hope i don't run out of coconuts. But at least there's game here. I saw what looked like monkies in the trees and i saw some foot prints too. So I'll be able to hang on for a while.

Day VI
Havn't had a chance to write in a while. Been too busy searching for more food. Those monkies are too fast for me, and i can't find whatever left the tracks. I'm working on a fishing spear, but i don't know how successful i'll be. I'm taking comfort in the fact that this island is tropical though. My clothes are still in relatively good condition, but i don't really need them.

Day VIII
I needed the clothes. My back is peeling and sore. My face hurts. It feels like i've just been slapped in the face with a frying pan. And now it itches. I caught a fish, though! A little bony, but it'll do. At least I won't go hungry.

Day XV
Another entry. Another day on this wretched island. I've been here three days more than the last time I was stranded and I havn't even seen a plane, let alone a boat. All i can hear are those monkies. They're getting pretty aggressive. They stole one of the fish i was drying yesterday. And I think one of them went into my lean-to last night, because my clothes were all strewn about.

Day XVI
I knew it. Those monkies are stealing my fish and coming into my hut at night. I woke up to find one perched on top of me, eating some sort of insect. It was wierdly unafraid. It scampered off when i got up, but didn't leave the hut until i swatted it. I saw a few more of those bugs on the floor.

Two entries in a day? well, this is noteworthy. I built my hut on top of a centipede colony. I don't know why i didn't realize it earlier. They're EVERYWHERE. I suppose i didn't see them as much because of all the leaves, but as i've cleared out the floor i see them wherever i look. And they're big, too! Its not that i can't handle bugs, but i heard these are poisonous. I have to move. But most of all, i need to be rescued. I'm bored out of my mind. I can handle it, of course. But really, it'd be nice to be back home...