It’s the first day of break. I washed my hair for the first time in a week using Jenna’s L’Oreal thinning hair soap scented Argan Oil. It’s still wet. I’m having sunny-side-up eggs for breakfast – or maybe omelets. Going out with the boys today, in Sutter’s field – staying out maybe until dark. I’m leaving a text for Jenna. 8:43 AM.
June 5th June 4th (realized yesterday was the 3rd not 4th) 2nd day.
Went driving last night. I told Jenna I was going to Mr DeLucas’ for Morning Glory seeds so she doesn’t know the above. She convinced Opa and Oma to come for cucumber sandwiches and Tim’s coffee. Oma bestowed me with two porcelain manikins, baptized Caralee and Grebel. She doesn’t know I don’t play with dolls.
The Cambodian Robber (R.E.) bought a Ford Vinty and it’s Schweppes bottle green. I put Caralee and Grebel in the interior of my desk under Geometry. I drew faces on my right hand with Sharpie and I need to lie to Jenna again tonight. We’re going out: all six of us. Milo signed up for prepping BLT wraps and we’re watching those stars in the sky from the gazebo in the park. They’re planning an excursion to the Silo. Afterwards, heading to St. Agatha Street with R.E. ‘s Ford. Also, my Converse shoelace ripped in the hall today.
Yesterday was fine and Jenna continues in her oblivion. I plucked mint leaves from the park and put them in a Ziploc bag. We were driving past 11 PM (Jenna was out with the ever-eccentric Lars who goes to bed at 8…very sus). R.E. piloted. He hit a squirrel on Noter Dame Road and Klair screamed because she’s that kind of person. R.E. rushed out and tried to save it, but it was already long gone. Now there’s blood on the left tire. Later went to CircleK for water and straws. $1.25. Dom had to hug Klair to calm her down (which only succeeded in making her jumpy) because he too is that kind of person. Klair wanted that, she’s too shy to be attractive. This evening I’m putting on blue Sephora eyeliner (which I haven’t done in centuries) since I have to go downtown with Jenna. Tomorrow will be better.
Jenna lugged me to a Vietnamese restaurant in Chinatown. I had a wok, and then we left. The boy waiter had wide grey eyes, but she didn’t approve of him. I slept in the KIA. She played Bolero. I dreamt of Sutter’s field, a bombing, and an old man with young eyes. At home, I counted the starlings on the electricity line outside, drank three cups of lukewarm water from the bathroom, and mainly remained in my chamber. Today was no better. But the following morning @ 8:00 AM I am going to bike to James Street and borrow the butcher’s phone to call R.E. and go somewhere, maybe the Silo. I am going to put on mom’s old stone rings. The weight helps my hands when I move.
7:30 AM and I put on 301 Levi’s. Left another text for Jenna – I went to the market with Carole, our neighbour. In all hope, R.E. will be home with his three-legged pup on the porch. I have Reese’s pieces for bribes.
We took Dom and Milo and went driving past Fern’s Convenience and the ESSO. We bought a pack of licorice and five packs of fireworks from the gargantuan woman in loafers for a clear night on the field. Jenna hugged me when I came home and I felt bad. I went to bed earlier today.
I’m lacking in adjectives.
Jenna got signed with a hand-modeling agency on Davenport Road. She arrived home at 4:00 PM in the heirloom Mazda with two Home Depot crates of hypoallergenic lotions, many of which boast scents of rose water, or sunscreen like the Milton chlorine pool locker rooms. She kissed my sunburnt forehead and called me a dove as well as numerous other affectionate terms I don’t care to recount. But I’m happy she’s happy. It reminds me of the first time we met, in a suburban jungle with her car parked a couple yards away, and her hands wrapped around mine. At the moment she’s slicing cilantro in the kitchenette for a martini I presume she and Lars will be indulging in. I don’t suppose that’s a particularly orthodox celebration on his part, for a feather of a male, and as virtuous as he. Walking to R.E.’s with the green frocs. Dom will most likely be there: in hiding from the sinister uneventfulness of his own street.
We decided the word for Sunday was pain, because that’s what we all felt that day. But today we watched Millie Rogers perform at the park in the gazebo. A home brewed music recipe.
“Since/ If we don’t let the tide flow/ Who will ever know/ Who will ever know.”
I toyed with a sprig of cow grass and watched a wisp of Millie’s hair collide with her beautiful eyelash fakies on multiple occasions. On her left side. Dom kissed Klair.
It’s past 4 in the morning, and we’re still dwelling in city/government property. We encountered an eleven-year-old at the park reading the world’s fortune with a deck of Maverick retired casino cards. The love birds, R.E., and I knelt down in the frozen dew. It was still dark, but I could tell her hair was matted into curtain sections and she wore her brother’s Avengers T-shirt. I liked her until she told me I was going to die next week. She said, “You’re going to die next week,” and I believed her.
I fell on my face on the way home and the gravel fell in love with my knee caps. I told Jenna I was sleeping over at Klair’s. In real life, I could never sleep in the same Minecraft home, let alone brick-and-mortar abode as she…I still remember yesterday, but it’s only called thinking and according to my VSCO feed, it’s perfectly regular.
4:37 AM. I dreamt about a vibrant purple sea creature in the night. I was standing among the cockle shells and white sand-grains. Then I began and kept walking. Walking until the sand began devouring the bottom of me and the water the top. Dom was in my dream. He was standing ahead of me, wearing torn jeans and his right cheek was dimpling from laughter. Laughter from some other day long ago. Flash screaming is beautiful. First the sea creature ate Dom, and then it ate me.
I vacated my futon when there was still inky blackness in the sky. I squatted in the center of my room, my limbs like a circus parade: elbows on my knees, chin in my palms. The hydrogen encircling smelled of rain, mud, compostables. Of course, my thoughts are a tangle. Caralee and Grebel curtsy before me as realized hallucinations. I want someone to embrace me. I think about Jenna, five years ago, back when she was an angel. How was the cake? 9:30. TO DO: extra-curricular persuasive/analytical essay . pick up melk from R.E.’s . laundry . clay face mask
Visited R.E. today, and ran into Dom on the way — he offered to take me in the Honda Civic sedan, but I gave him my supercilious smile so he floored it. The remainder of tonight was lugubrious both in weather and mentality. Klair arrived, escorted by her mother who doesn’t know the world is round.
R.E., Dom (to my regret), Klair, and I graced a forsaken parking lot in West Kensington with our presence. Tonight was the fireworks night. Caralee and Grebel were tucked somewhat warily into the beige Vans bag. Dom said to bring them, something about the artistic combination of the sparks and old dolls. By the end of the lengthy experiment, the sticks were charred curls, all of us (minus Klair) had dust on our faces, and Caralee had lost all her limbs. When I got home at 11:00, Jenna, sitting in the torn wicker seat with paperwork, saw the dolls in my rucksack. She told me the story of how my nine-year-old mom bought them in a place called Saint-Michel on a summer morning.
Phosphenes: (n.) the colours or “stars” you see when you rub your eyes.
This morning Carole hosted an Edwardian garden party attended by conniving seniors, a recent “young family” addition to the cul-de-sac, Jenna, and myself. Idle conversations and jam talk ensued. I left at 2:00. Went to R.E. ‘s again and his lanky younger sister (who reminds me of a dandelion) gave us Dill Pickle chips which I had on the porch, currently caked in sawdust. R.E. and Dom got into a fight yesterday, after I left. Disputes are always the exit corridor to any kind of connection. They haven’t made it up. We are going to go driving by the Silo where Roesel’s Bush crickets are. I think we’re going to gaze at those heavens, filled with dipper star formations and gnats. There’s wintergreen Trident in the pocket of my AE pants – only four pieces left, perhaps as a peace bargain: one for me, one for R.E., one for Dom, and one for Klair, although somewhat reluctantly. I am sporting the blue liner again tonight.
It’s so quiet.
Like an underwater game.
Saint Agatha Review
Ann Marie Lorence, or Al as she was known by close friends, was a kind, genuine, and loving young woman with a beautiful heart. She was born in a sea coast town with a population of 200. She moved to Saint Agatha at the age of four, and lived there with a legal guardian for ten years. Throughout her life, she nurtured a love for interacting with others, creating art, and spending time outside.
Ann Marie tragically passed away on Sunday of June 16th in a car accident involving four others, two of which were injured, but none hospitalized. There is speculation as to the cause of this incident, including the possibility of drunk driving after hours for this individual’s license.
Ann Marie will be sorely missed by her community.
To donate to a memorial of the fourteen-year-old, please fill out the form below.