2008-08-27

She Needs a New Journal


Tonight I will fall asleep wearing cut-offs, a belt, a button-up shirt, and all the necessary undergarments. A novel completely exhausted me and I'm going to keep reading until short stories knock me out. Then, in the morning, I will make rice pudding.

2008-08-24

What Lies Beneath


Bedsheets are like panties. Kind of, eh? I'm in the process of getting a new bed- everything is a process these days- and for it I got new sheets. They have a decent thread count and were decently priced. If bedsheets are like underwear, and I'll maintain that I sort of think that they are, then though they are not usually seen by others they can create an outward feeling. I'm sure if I sat on my bed writing this entry with silk satin sheets underneath I would feel damn fine, or something along those lines. But sex is not beneath the surface of my lady-like quilt. My sheets look like caffeinated limes on acid. They are highlighters, saying perhaps, "Look here now, this bed is important, focus." This seems contradictory to the function of a bed, and to my hopes to sleep somewhere less juvenile. Twenty and womanly on the outside, a twelve-year-old boy on the inside.

2008-08-20

Excessively Sentimental, Sorry



I love to spend the day on my bicycle and I love to take all my meals and cups of coffee on the front porch and I love to make all of those meals together and eat them all together and I love to look at moon baby and I love to scoop him up and I love to draw on Sarah's bruise and I love to go swimming at night and get scrapes and show Suzanne and I love to be in no rush and I love to be left new music on my computer from Drea and I love to meet new people who come and play banjo and bake baguettes and I love to read a page at a time on a patio and I love when my to do list says jello and bean salad and dry wine.

2008-08-15

Sentimental

The contents of my treasure box:
Some lined paper with notes about dreams I've had: "I bring pickles into the levis store"
A birthday card from my teacher in '96
Letters from Santa Claus
Certificate of adoption for my pound bunnies, named Whiskers, Buster, Lily and Nelly (I circled Buster and Lily's name because they were the best)
David Bowie ticket stub
A piece of bark from the tree that was in my grandparents front yard
A silver plaster thumb
Cedar hearts
Another certificate of adoption but this time for pound puppies
My retainer
Medals (Student of Excellence and taekwondo: I came 2nd out of 3 and 8th out of 8)
A sidrabene sticker
Worry dolls
A ticket signed by the fake backstreet boys
Something someone carved for me
A flattened penny from Wyoming
Uplifting letters from my great grandma "I never feel like eating and when I do I wish I didn't"
A hand drawn wanted poster with my face on it, reward: $15 and corn, crime: Bank robbing

2008-08-10

Miriam is probably spelt with a Y.

From my notebook from the Canadian Tire parking lot:

It's too hot to read. It's too hot to do anything but put my chin on the Vandura's kitchen counter and play with beer caps in my mouth.
"You'll cut yourself" says my mom in my head.
There is a risk of it but more than that I think I look rude and stupid to Miriam and so I stop. Both beers are empty and and I'm only responsible for a quarter of that effort. When I was making phone calls my company got thirsty. It's hot. I imagine that Prince George and the surrounding area will start to burn at precisely 9:45 this evening; the exact time of my departure to Calgary. As a lover of forests and a generally "good" person I think forests burning down is "bad". However, as a firefighter this makes me think "Oh irony, of course" and also, "Damn".

I look out from Vandura into the cruel and ironic world; the Canadian Tire and Marks Work Warehouse parking lot. Only an hour or so ago I went to Marks Work Warehouse to look for the wool/nylon sweaters that the good looking ministry firefighters wear. They didn't have my size and they also didn't have the little plastic alligator clips I used to pick off the floor there when I was wee. I'm better off without the sweater, because as I mentioned before it is sweltering. Perhaps I'm better off too without the alligator clips. I've grown up.

This afternoon my stomach hurts because I ate too many popsicles. About 2 hours ago I left the Vandura in the Canadian Tire parking lot and crossed the street to visit the Walmart. I wanted a fresh soy smoothie but they didn't have any so I bought 12 popsicles. They were melting so I ate too many in a desperate attempt to get my moneys worth. Miriam ate some too but not as many as me because she is more mature and less rude and stupid. Will didn't eat any because he is sawing his dashboard with a swiss army knife and he would probably make everything sticky if he tried to eat one.

Glacier water, bottled by myself the day before, will surely make my stomach at ease. But when I take a sip I realize that it tastes better in the atmosphere it came from. Because it was colder and because I could look at the mountains it dripped off of. Most things tasted better in the mountains for this reason and because I was hungrier and thirstier there. The exception to this is quaker oatmeal bars. They were supposed to be everything I love about oatmeal in a bar and they weren't.

Where was I? My train of thought is lost. My stomach is protesting. My feet are sweaty. I've been in the Canadian Tire parking lot for the last 4 hours. Where did Miriam go? Oh there she is. I was thinking about how mature and wise she is. She is moisturizing her legs and I think I should moisturize my legs too. She interrupts my thoughts by telling me she was just shaving her legs in the Canadian Tire bathroom when someone walked in. I look at my armpits and I get an idea.

From Here:

Alan is playing COD, which I thought might be a fishing game. Fishing games are funny so I get excited to watch. I watched real fishing this summer and it was funny too. Nothing was caught. I like to watch other people be so patient.
COD stands for Call of Duty though. It's not like fishing unless you pretend the people are fish and the guns are rods. Then it is a little bit more like fishing, but still there is no lake and there are no tackle vests. When Miriam and I hitch hiked into the Hart the man had a tackle vest in his back seat sitting next to me. One day these things will be stylish, like the plaid flannel shirt: kids everywhere will wear them to dance clubs and they will look like they were just in the woods but they weren't.

My summer is winding down with a big build up. I sat next to a girl on the bus and I gave her my headphones and played her some songs. She liked what I liked at her age and so I thought that listening to what I like at my age would feel to her like zooming into the future. She was polite and curious and in no time I wanted the best for her life. From the moment I got to the station things were looking like a book. An old black woman with short white hair and big diamond earrings winked at me when I sat down and smiled. She was beautiful. There were crying babies in line and moms hugging daughters goodbye and angry sisters being mean to each other. I'm really awkward when I say goodbye to people because I never think it's a big deal to say goodbye but I feel like I should feel like it is. For once I felt like it was though and this made it more strange because I didn't know how to act even more. Do I cry? I looked sincerely upset to be leaving and I hope that my face expressed this. If it didn't I figured at least that I would write about it and say that it was sincerely upsetting to leave Will. I loved this summer. There's a little bit left too, just enough to fill with everything else I could love about summer. Let's go sailing.