5.17

[This day merits a post, methinks. I will tell you what I am planning, first. I am going to write a big thing (maybe four pages? Who knows) and post it in bits, to make up for my never posting anything this month ever. So even if I don't have time to write, I will still "write." Hokay? Ooooookay.]

My arms ache. I have been pushing for what seems like eternity. My legs strain, but they aren't going anywhere. Beads of sweat fall from my nose and splatter to mud in the dust below. The mammoth hulk of the mower rolls back. I wedge my foot in even tighter against the tire and the earth, and give another heave. Nothing.

Defeated, I let the mower roll back down to the bottom.

Sisyphus.

5.16

[I stink at this. I'm not even at camp. I don't have an excuse.]

Hair and dust billowed up and choked his view eyes nose mouth ears but he kept going. Sunlight drifted in at a lateral slant and sliced cleanly through his cloud. Sound sifted soft through the emptiness of the room, and he was left (all alone) with his broom.

I think that's a poem. See?

Hair and dust billowed up

and choked his

view eyes nose mouth ears

but he kept going.

Sunlight drifted in at a lateral slant

and sliced cleanly through his cloud.

Sound sifted soft

through the emptiness of the room,

and he was left

(all alone)

with his broom.

But I don't like it with line breaks. It ruins the flow of the piece. It's a single moment, better represented by a paragraph, rather than a series of short little lines. But if I don't write it in the style of a poem, no one will know or care.

-.-

I'm sorry I haven't been posting. I promise I'll make it up to you. Work is exhausting and draining and I'm so embarrassed by it that it's sure to make amazing writing material. I just have to get back on top of my life.

I'll write a big thing over the course of a few days, I think.

I will be back.

5.5

He looked down from the ledge where she was sitting and he saw the city far below.

"What makes you choose to sit here?" he asked. There was no reply. "Are you content?" She didn't even look at him. "Don't you wish you had a more comfortable seat, or a better view of the city? You are halfway up a building. You could go up or down and be happier." She hadn't acknowledged his presence. "I know a nice place you could go . . ." At this, she stood and walked past him into the house. He followed.

"This really isn't the prime place to be sitting. There are a million reasons why you should never sit here again."

She turned and started a bit when she saw him. She waved her hands at him and raised one eyebrow.

"Oh," was all he could manage at first. "I'm sorry, I don't . . . I guess that's fine then," he said, as if her deafness was enough to explain why she chose the wrong ledge.

5.4

[I continually forget which month it is]

Three of the toes on my left foot fell off yesterday. They went away on their own, and I can only hope they're having a better time than I am.

P.S. Leprosy sucks.

5.3

Sunset: what a dull time of day. It's the end, obviously. It marks the culmination. Why do people enjoy them? It means their free time is done and they have to sleep. It means the next day of work and hardship is on the horizon. It means that plants stop growing and rats come out. Sunsets are a symbol of death.

So why do so many couples kiss in front of them?

Why do so many old people sigh when they see one?

When did it become normal to be happy for a sunset?

I would like to meet the lady who proposed it (for it must have been a woman, you see) and give her a piece of my mind. Once she had inserted the piece, she might come round to my way of thinking and stop the whole nonsense once and for all. And if it was, in fact, a man (which I find to be a highly irregular theory) I suppose I shall pop him in the jaw.

Sunsets.

They're for the birds.

5.2

I woke up this morning and rolled over. The rolling did not put me back to sleep. I decided against rolling again, because based on my experience, it was not helpful. So I lay prostrate like a pancake or a flat tire or a snake after a really big meal. Then, I realized. It wasn't the rolling that people always talk about that helps the sleeping. I'm not trying to tan my brain or mix my humours (I'm not even Greek. Fire and Earth? Preposterous. I'm obviously made of pure maple syrup and nougat). Rolling isn't going to help me. What I need is a reason to not be awake anymore. Hm.

Now I am actively engaged in the process of selecting the best reason to go back to sleep and not wake up for a very long time.

I don't know my future career.

My dog might die.

My car broke down and stole all my money in the fixing.

My grandparents got a divorce.

I ran out of bagels this morning.

But wait. All of these have a hidden reason for waking up and jumping around in joy.

I don't have to get a job yet.

I have had a dog for fourteen years.

I have a car that works.

My grandparents are still alive.

I can eat toast.

I might as well get up and dance and sing in joy and yell at the hills that I am alive, because I have so many reasons to be happy.

Except I have enough room to roll over, because she left.

Hello, sleep. It's been too long.

5.1

[I was about ten days behind last month. Sorry. School, you know?]

She did the wrong thing. So I told her about it, just so she would know, and she blew up. Why? I'll never know.

He wasn't satisfied again. He complained, and I gave up. He didn't understand. Why? I'll never know.