sirens and stars and paper
throw your airplane from your bedroom window at midnight
My love,
When things seem darker than ever
)
make up a story. write it on the back of a stamped addressed envelope and send it to:
19 Old Decks
Prairie Village, KS
66206
You will receive confirmation in the mail.
fold it into a paper airplane, carefully following the guidelines below.
The paper must be:
)
Thicker than eyelashes.
) Thinner than fingernails.
) Lighter than a breeze
) Free from pencil marks and other blemishes.
throw your paper airplane from your bedroom window at midnight
and wait for the sirens and the falling stars
0
0
)))
from the diary of Nina Hailey #2
• bookshop
- - the map place
• new year’s eve
To think and to love and to be angry and lonely and sad and romantic and excited To think and to love and to be angry and lonely and sad and romantic and excited To think and to love and to be angry and lonely and sad and romantic and excited To think and to love and to be angry and lonely and sad and romantic and excited To think and to love and to be angry and lonely and sad and romantic and excited To think and to love and to be angry and lonely and sad and romantic and excited To think and to love and to be angry and lonely and sad and romantic and excited To think and to love and to be angry and lonely and sad and romantic and excited To think and to love and to be angryangryangryangryangryangryangryangryangryangryangryangryangry and lonely and sad and romantic and excited To think and to love and to be angry and lonely and sad and romantic and excited To think and to love and to be angry and lonely and sad and romanticromanticromanticromanticromanticromanticromanticromanticromanticromanticromanticromanticromanticromanticromanticromanticromanticromanticromanticromanticromanticromanticromanticromanticromanticromanticromantic and excited To think and to love and to be angry and lonely and sad and romantic and excited To think and to love and to be angry and lonely and sad and romantic and excited To think and to love and to be angry and lonely and sad and romantic and excited To think and to love and to be angry and lonely and sad
sad
sad
sad and romantic and excited To think and to love and to be angry and lonely and sad and romantic and excited To think and to love and to be angry and lonely and sad and romantic and excited To think and to love and to be angry and lonely and sad and romantic and excited
From The Diary Of Nina Hailey #1
Glue.
Men in blue overalls.
Paralysis.
Panic.
-
From a series of diary entries by Nina called Earth To Nina.
RJ
Sometimes my mind gets stuck.
As soon as you ask me for something, it feels like I’ve filled up two canteen-style ketchup bottles with glue and I’ve stuck them in both ears and I’m squeezing it around my brain.
Some of it comes pouring right back out, it drips from my earlobes and down my shirt. The rest rushes right in. Making gaps where there were no gaps, filling every new crevice and crease.
I loosen my fists and let the air rush back into the bottles with a smacking sucking sound. For a moment, as the glue in my brain settles, it’s almost…nice. Like there’s no chance of ever finding a clear train of thought anyway so the option may as well be taken away from me.
And then I clench my fists again and the last of the glue rushes in, mixing intrusion with panic. Paralysis with speed. It overflows out of my nose and eyes and I know I’ll never see or breathe properly again.
And you’re just standing there like a dumb bear saying, “Hello? Hello? Earth to Nina.”
Maybe I’ll just nod this time.
Maybe I’ll play a high-risk game and reply with, “Yes, of course.”
But the truth is I didn’t hear you. The people in my head that run my ears are doing their jobs just fine. And I’m pretty sure my brain at the other end of the line works ok, it’s the little guys with blue overalls that run the line in between the ear canal and the central cortex that didn’t turn up to work today. Or maybe they did and they’re just horrible people. It often feels less like there’s a gap between my glue-covered ears and brain and more like a group of mean, doubting, belittling figures.
They don’t transmit the words, they just roll their eyes at me.
And you’ll say, “What do you mean Yes? Are you even listening to me? I asked you if you-“
Glue.
Men in blue overalls.
Paralysis.
Panic.
blNK NOTE 2,
Bored in the queue at HEB. This morning I bumped into Sam for the first time since, you know. So awkward. He’s married and acting all old even though I know he goes home to play d&d.
He mentioned us all heading down to New Orleans again. Him, Dina and Croswell. Guess what good old Nina said? She said YES of course even though she meant NO and she said YES NEXT WEEKEND IS FINE even though NEXT WEEKEND IS DEFINITELY NOT FINE.
It’s, what, an eight hour drive? Which means three hours of awkwardly answering questions about Japan, three hours of Dina getting irritated at Sam for driving too fast and two hours of singing along to show tunes.
Where is my wind-back-time-button. I wouldn’t ask for much, just back to the moment before I agreed to going with them rather than faking my own death right there in the post office.
Why can’t you still be here. All I ever wanted to do was be with you. You were like a hundred people in one.
shopping liat
Shopping List:
Icing Sugar
Butter (Barlow’s)
Tape
Dish soap
Notebook
2.
• • Prescription