diary: adult

Thursday
The black sky is wholesale purging its stores. I stand leglocked by the window and stare as the rest of the office clicks and tittles away. I have never seen rain like this. I am a shameless gawker. I turn to the girl sitting closest to me but realize I have nothing to say. I look out the window again just in time to see a man's shoe fall onto a parked Buick.

Friday
I run over an (apple?) the size of a terrier on my way out of Dodge. Better than a terrier the size of an apple. I think. My car starts complaining.

Saturday
The only difference between your portobello sandwich and my caprese sandwich is that your squeaky mass is black and mine is white. Also today, I fall asleep to the sound of clouds arguing.

Sunday
Stripped to his intentions, man is but a tantrum of seagulls. Woman, a riot of wildflowers. Or a painting of windmills.

Monday
Phone.

Tuesday
Meet Dave for lunch at a romantic patisserie. Reminds me of the time we almost saw 500 Days of Summer together. Alone together. Cultural doesn't supplant romantic. Dave uses the word 'erect' in a non-sexual context. We are finally adults. (Ten minutes later when Amber comes we use the word 'poo' 17 times.)

Wednesday
Discover that orchids are most desirable as a plant, not a flower. Orchids belong to the same family as Vanilla. Some can self-reproduce. The name orchid literally means testicle. Happy first day of school, girlfriend.

"You are not at all like my rose," he said. "As yet you are nothing. No one has tamed you, and you have tamed no one."...

"You are beautiful, but you are empty," he went on." "One could not die for you. To be sure, an ordinary passerby would think that my rose looked just like you--the rose that belongs to me. But in herself alone she is more important than all the hundreds of you other roses: because it is she that I have watered; because it is she that I have put under the glass globe; because it is she that I have sheltered behind the glass; because it is for her that I have killed the caterpillars (except the two or three that we saved to become butterflies); because it is she that I have listened to, when she grumbled, or boasted, or even sometimes when she said nothing. Because she is my rose."