2017/12/13 Wed

  1. i thought i wouldn’t be doing this anymore. last night i sent the whole document to C and she wasn’t very happy about it. this morning the situation reassumes. we both cry until our eyes are swollen, then she goes to sleep and i go out and start my day. tuna melt. medium raspberry iced black tea. i finish my sandwich without crying but as i am sitting in the purple rocking chair texting C, tears rush out for no reason. i enter the classroom and interrupt a meeting. i tell M i don’t think i can go to the class. he says, you’re still young and figuring it out. i wander around looking for a place to hide and cry. i sit at the far corner of the parking lot, on the edge of a grass slope. from where i’m sitting, i can see the shimmering of a tree. it is so tall, its trunk a shiny white, leaves golden green. today the sky is very blue. as i sit next to a black car crying, i see from the reflection that T is climbing up the slope. he is soon right behind me. he sees me and sits down to my right. he says, i wish i have something sweet to offer you. then he digs in his backpack for a while and says, no, i only have chopsticks. i consider making a joke about them being edible but don’t want him to actually give me chopsticks.
  2. 1 mini tangerine
  3. C says there is too strong a sense of distance that she feels afraid. i tell her that’s what i’m interested in: the sense of distance between one place that holds my body and another that holds hers, between life as of now and how we want life to be in the future, even between a self and this self. i think i should have been more careful. but even if i’d wanted to, i wouldn’t know how or about what. 1 slice of cheese pizza. W tells me she is leaving next semester. she plans to find a farm and work there for a while. she also tells me she has a long drive after our night shift and now it feels extra long because she doesn’t have an aux cable anymore and can’t play music from her phone. we watch an episode of human planet titled arctic - life in the deep freeze. neither of us expects to see so much hunting, and i am reminded of a javelin throw accident my father and i witnessed on tv several years ago. that was before they increased the weight of javelins and an athlete threw his really far, so far that it pierced right through a runner’s shoulder. we watched the emergency team carry the runner down. we watch the inuit hunt narwhals in a javelin throw way, but their spears land much nearer. i tell W i dreamed about her weeks ago. in the dream we each wrapped a warm, fluffy blanket around our body and lay down side by side in the middle of a street. we took a nap in the sun. a car drove by; she got up to let it pass and lay back down. she says, maybe i traveled to you in my dream and don’t remember. after we’ve said goodbye, i walk down the stairs and find the lawn is being watered. water is gushing out from hoses all over the slope, and one stream lands on my head and pants. i run back to my room.