DEAR DIARY

11.22.22

Walking into the room like is this a
Support group for fatherless women?
Or is this just
The small mammals section of PETCO

Walking into the room like is this a
Support group for fatherless women?
Or is this just
The reptile section of PETCO

Walking into the room like is this a
Support group for fatherless women ?
No.
this is just
The Fish section of PETCO


11.20.2022 10:36pm

Tonight there were fireworks, and they were for me. I sat on the front lawn — there is a bench now on the front lawn, the dragonfly bench from the backyard which is maybe tackily romantic or maybe romantically tacky — and I watched the fireworks (which were for me). I was in my pajama bottoms (tucked into my socks in an attempt to defend agains vectors) and I was on the lawn and I watched fireworks. I half expected all the neighbors to be on their lawns, all congregated to watch an event of such Enormity, but they weren’t on their lawns, and did not congregate. Rich made a brief appearance, holding up his phone to capture the spectacle, and Alice briefly held up a child as if to say to it “this — these — an Event — something to Witness” — but they soon went back inside. Too loud, maybe. Too bright.

Down the street some kids cheered. I couldn’t see them.

The White Van’s car alarm went off two or three times. I didn’t mind. It felt rhythmic. And besides it had to go off — it always does, every year. It must go off. The alarm must go off. The show must go on.

I’m drinking warm milk now, with spices and collagen and a splash of expired off-brand Bailey’s — I am unsure if expired alcohol and supplements cancel each other out, or create some kind of toxic sludge, or simply become a sort of softcore jello shot. At the moment, I do not care. Tonight, around 1am, I will care, and suddenly this will seem a foolish concoction, and I will think about death, and picture my liver failing. But not yet. Not now. Not yet.

Every year, it seems that another tree is missing. Every year, it feels like the sky has grown. The sky has never been as big as it was this year. It was immense. It was all-encompassing. It was around me and I was in it. Here there is sound to block out sound. Here there is light to light up light. The fireworks were just for me. Tonight there were fireworks, and they were just for me, and for me only.


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