07/11/18 snapshot

— bright blue-green hair, vast stretches of patchy grass, mysteriously pulled biceps, slow creaking bike strokes, evening video calls, eerie hallways to whooping freshman, a permanent collage station —



Liability. Late night walks in the city lights. Late night cruising in humid air. Catcalls and cross arms and closed faces. Tortillas with peas and eggs and cheddar, stacks and stacks of Ritz. Banana pancake things in soft grey mornings. Jiggling jammed bike locks. Perfect, glowy skin save for a large and gently swelling pimple under the left nostril. Two hour conversations with HJ on a thin blanket, looking at the sky: “I like when you describe to me your people watching.” Slightly sore thighs. Daily morning crochet patterns pressed into the skin. Books in the grass and a breeze. “BUY ZHONGZI,” in a monotone whine on the corner of Christie and Hester. Soft wet hair and white eyes in a steamy mirror at 1am.

an artless snapshot of my friendships

This weekend, I had so many invitations I didn’t know what to do with them.

I’ve magically become friends with MC, and after meeting her friends for a weekend, I remember now what it’s like to have a group of people genuinely want to get to know you, who value you. I realize that perhaps although I don’t know for sure if they are my people — it’s only been one night — I enjoy time with them so much more than I do with my other friend group, or with AM’s friends, who somehow always leave me feeling inferior. With MC’s friends, I feel loved, accepted; I’m funny, smart, and fun.

Somehow, I’ve also become close with BI, who is quite close to an ideal person. I was surprised and pleased that he so clearly wanted to be friends.

It’s been a good semester of branching out, far more than I did last semester. And unlike freshman year, I think I’ve branched out into the correct crowd.

journal #12, 1/3/17

1/3/17, 11:35am, sitting on the beach a bit north of k–‘s place

a snapshot:

nine pelicans in a row, doing a wave of sorts, movements starting from the first and rippling down to the last as each hits that break or lift in the wind. it’s cubism in nature: several instants, all at once; simultaneity of time. the last straggling pelican reminds me to be less pretentious.