I’m waiting to hear back from the Marshall fellow. Claims that money has been sent have occured, though according to Western Union, the man doesnae exist. I cannae ken what he’s up to, but perhaps we’ll find out if he gets here.
-trying to explain away depression –
I lay awake last night, I’d said something in jest that had hurt him. I wasn’t expecting it. The sort of thing where at the end of the evening, someone turns to you and says, you really ruined my time by saying X, and you stop hurt in wonder that X would have been taken harmfully.
-we seem to have a lot of these –
Mail arrived today from Toronto. Apparently I have an account with the royal bank there. I suppose my grandmother opened it for me to cash my paychecks in when I worked there. I’m wondering if I should close it or leave it be. Either option seems like effort somehow wasted. I am happy that I can still be surprised. Be reminded of that golden summer of lightning and love.
-and rooftops bathed in orange light-
I talked with him the other day, my ontario demon with the redblack hair. That flashing amber eyed musician with the purple soul. Memories crackling with contentment.
-in a van, between the seats, crying-
on the bus: three men wearing stained work clothes sit on the very back seat as a woman enters. She sits in a seat facing at 90 degrees. She is wearing colourful clothing.
man 1: yeah – the match was okee, couldda done better thoough. Lost some offa Robbie.
man 3: Lost some offa Robbie? Feck that, you shoulden give it to em.
The woman opens a book.
man 2: Looka that.
man 1: Whare?
man 2: That girl – she’s gotta book open.
man 3: Reading – hah – ruins a woman if you givum a book.
man 1: Yah – wouldn’t let my woman read. Just wrecks em.
-I am ruined-