sluglaw - sept 2021

september 2021

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the alpha couple (an ode to John Darnielle) / september 14th - 1:44 am

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.

/^(o.o)^\ /^(o.o)^\ /^(o.o)^\ /^(o.o)^\ /^(o.o)^\ /^(o.o)^\

contact sickness / september 8th - 1:04 am

i cracked my knuckles against the palm of my hand. "could you pass me the remote?"

you sat in your armchair, back towards me, unresponsive. i admired the way you smoked and continued on with sudoku, as if i wasn't even there. we must look like strangers in a coffee shop inhabiting space.

i think about all the things we stopped doing and the love we stopped sharing. the warmth of your touch now a distant sensation, like the fading ambulance sirens that flood through my open window.

warm, rainy, summer days come in with violent haste. we were plucking grass in the backyard when your dad ushered us into the garage. under it's tin roof, i could hear the constant clacking of water hitting and splashing into the gutters. i stood there with my eyes closed listening to the sounds. you were standing to my left, with your dad and your nonno on my right.

"here", your dad motioned to the lawn chair he just unfolded, "sit babbo".

you kicked up some pebbles. there was a bit of awkward tension in the air with no thoughts or words to fill them - your nonno doesn't speak English. i wanted this moment to last a bit longer, but your cousin pulled into the driveway with her usual aggressive speed. she tossed her bag in the general direction of your four-speed bike and let out an exasperated sigh, tugging on her damp shirt. i shut my eyes again, this time hoping for the rain to clear.

"we should go down to the lake later, if you want".

/^(o.o)^\ /^(o.o)^\ /^(o.o)^\ /^(o.o)^\ /^(o.o)^\ /^(o.o)^\

The California Avocado Commission / september 1st - 8:05 pm

staring at this text that says "sorry i've been out of touch lately" and not really feeling any other emotions other than wishing i could eat an avocado. my current state of being is that moment when you try to thrust the knife into the avocado seed and twist it to gently remove it, but instead it slips out of your hands and the seed goes flying across your kitchen and the knife slices your hand open. when you stare at the blood on your hands and lick it? that's me right now.

haven't showered in seven years. the filth is caked up on my body and forms a protective layer for my gooey insides. my skin is the colour of the outside of an avocado. i'm delicious inside.