A girl I was with once was asked what colour her underwear was. She replied that was confidential infomation. I mused that the disclosure of said classified documentation could result in an unexpected assault on certain territorial borders that were previously unbreached.

It would, I thought, be soemwhat nationalistic of her to deny access to any of her major ports of call. What would happen to the importing/exporting of certain natural resources?

I stood back and surveyed all her land, the sprawling mountain range in the north, long smooth prairies travelling down throughout the mid-west, and that dark, swampy triangle of fertile land in the deep south, and I thought: should these bountiful lands go to waste?

And I asked her this, and she looked at me in such a way that I instantly realized that our trade talks were quite concluded.

Second try. Uh huh. Got her. She enthu. Talk more tomorrow.

Joyce called Selina, Selina put Joyce off me, I call Selina, Selina tells me Joyce doesn't want to really go out with me because she's seeing someone, I call Joyce, she tells me the same, I call Selina, tell her to leave me alone, Joyce calls me and tells me Selina called Joyce and told her to call me and affirm the above.

I don't call anyone anymore.

Back in class, fugue time. Looking at an ad for the "Break The Ice" dance.

You go around breaking ice, someone's going to fall through and drown.

I saw her in art class. SHE said that she didn't see any real men in the classroom. I thought that was a pretty harsh condemnation of a bunch of grade ten students.

[from a scrap of paper found in between pages 38+39 of the journal]


US

Being with someone is one thing you can't accomplish alone.

Sometimes
you make me feel like I
exist in the world, but
Sometimes
you make me feel like I
shouldn't

I reached my hand out to her, dry and dusty, and she turned away, saying only

"God, you're disgusting..."

I bet in five years, when I read this, I'll have changed a lot.

I hope so.

I've given up on Meg Ryan.