take the potatoes out of the water and julienne them before freezing.
“how long will they last?“
i paused before clarifying. “in the freezer, i mean“. nothing lasts forever.
following your instructions meticulously and without critique. nothing is too complicated, but i notice my body tensing up and my breathing becoming shallow. my hands shake to the rhythm of my heartbeat, making it difficult to hold my santoku knife.
ah, that’s why, i knew i forgot something. my laughs echo in the kitchen and fill the space in between the steam from the stovetop. i put down my knife and close my eyes.
jumping off the edge of a curb dramatically, knowing all the lyrics to every Diana Ross song, plotting ways to kill your neighbour, only having one usable hand, drinking mixer with no alcohol, writing math equations in ink, huffing lighter fluid before biking uphill, grabbing free pamphlets wherever you go, rubbing your body down with Lysol wipes.
diary entry #1 / “more of a cat person, but i love dogs!”, a weird lispy voice that vibrates in my ears. i cant really focus on anything because i drank curdled cream this morning and now i feel like Absolute Shit™. i’ll have another coffee to numb the nausea. watching the clock pensively. i want to go home and puke. i want to go home and finish reading Bram Stoker’s Dracula.
diary entry #2 / sitting lifeless on a rocking chair. it’s a stale, ordinary chair in current state. i flip through my old photos taken with my Minolta Hi-Matic F on expired Kodak Gold film. look at how messy my writing gets on the back of the prints as you progress through them. it’s wednesday. another school shooting, 17 dead. it rained this morning.
diary entry #3 / late June. the bluish-purple hues of jacaranda flood the streets and sidewalks. the humidity hangs in the air all day and night, making the views of the trees seem more serene.
diary entry #4 / early February. calm breezes and an early setting sun make the air easier to digest. it’s crisp some days and burns my lungs. winter has removed any colour from the streets. i think about a tropical island somewhere.
pounding headache and a strong resolve to never drink again. any and all food i consume today must be starch-ridden and terrible for me. i will disappoint my yoga teacher.
i checked my call log to see how many times i tried blowing up your phone at 11:59pm, 12:00am, and 12:01am. we’ve fought more times than the Russo-Turkish war. tell Ossip Gourko he was a good boy that didn’t do anything wrong!!
back on my bullshit. my iCloud storage is full of images of various eyebrows of people indicted in the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia. which Glossier brow did Pandurevic use?
sitting on a hill, watching the fireworks go off in the adjacent town. лепа села лепо горе. kiss my forehead and tell me i’m beautiful.
we both walked home together after finalizing our divorce papers. the soft cool crunch of the fresh snow pressed under our boots and filled the silence in the air. our mediator commented that she was our “easiest” divorced couple to deal with. right now, between the falling snow, i understood what she meant.
shall i start from the beginning? the details of our wedding and vows are much less impactful and memorable compared to the first 7 years we spent together. i exhaled warm breath into the winter night, trying to recall where we went wrong.
we met during the Toronto Waterfront Marathon – it was your first time. you got in shape after your ex left you, and you spent a year training for the big day. i was impressed by your fortitude and your silky smooth waist length hair. normally i’m not the type of person to approach a stranger, but the ease in our first initial sentences felt like we had known each other for years. we exchanged numbers and i texted you back the night after in a drunken stupor. somehow my alcohol fueled texts weren’t off-putting to you, and we planned our first date at Medieval Times. i know it’s an odd place for a first date but i told you about how i went in middle school, and you mentioned never having been before. i don’t think I told you this part, but i was extremely upset that none of the knights handed you a rose. your worth was a whole rose field to me.
so where did we go wrong? sometime between the first date and our last (6 years into our relationship). the last year was spent in disarray, between contemplating ending it all and marrying you. i chose the later. we rarely fought and i think that was the problem. our passionate love dissolved into reluctant acceptance, which turned into resentment the moment we stopped doing marathons together.
and now back to the present moment – our boots piled up in a watery mess at the front door. we sat down, squished up in my favourite armchair. your elbow was digging into my rib cage, legs twirled together like a jumbled mess. usually your nasally breathing caused by your deviated septum gave me great comfort, but now it only increased my anxiety. i thought about the world without your breathing and i involuntarily tensed up my legs and drew you in closer.
i was looking around the room for a familiar face, but my head was swirling. noses and eyes and chins were hazy, as if my view was painted by Cézanne.
the poetic appeal of bathroom graffiti is more evident when i’ve had a few rum and cokes. what am i doing here? sitting in the stall, analyzing the backs of my hands, echos of high heels and vomiting girls. suddenly snap out of the temporary coma i’m in when i hear our song: Times Blue – Lil B.
when was i the happiest? i tried to recall as i danced around and weaved through strangers holding their drinks. my most recent memory was downloading Lil B albums as they came out on DatPiff, biking to the convenience store for a slushie at midnight. nothing but me and God’s Father. i want to go back to that, but i don’t know how. i press the ice cold Stella to my head and try to disappear into the crowd.