Monday, November 11

Intro. Stranded on Iceland.

I have to start a new journal. Since they shipped me to this wasteland, ruled and divided by the Ásatrúarkirkjan, the usual company (run by an elf, of course) and the russian mob, I don't have my stuff with me. Just my dog, and a rental truck. This sucks. I have to make the best of it. Maybe the hills beyond the slums are still green...

wasteland tries to impress me