NOT WITH PEOPLE

This is a story about the time I left the house to be around people but not with people. People when they’re looking at the newspaper or at each other are comforting bean bags and people when they ask you to explain yourself are that bed you bought from a cheap website that time. The one that doesn’t feel quite right and your back hurts and you wonder if you’ll ever get used to it.

People when they’re holding each other at bus stops and on each others shoulders across the bridge and wishing the movie was over so they can look at each other again. Those people. They’re the first coffee in the morning after your senses have come back after a head cold and you open the curtains and the sun feels like the sun and you are a frozen flower. People when they make you feel small and then say it was just a joke are that bed you bought once from that cheap website that bursts into flames and burns your house down.

So I left the house to be around people but not with people.

Between the car park and the coffee shop there’s a department store and the department store has a fake cul-de-sac with wooden house fronts and upsell gardens and a walk-in catalogue of living rooms one after the other.

You can only see the first one through a fake window. You walk under the flimsy cardboard streetlight and over the plastic grass and there it is. A wooden portal into modern family life. You can breathe deep and smell the flowers from the vase on the coffee table reminding you that family can be slow and calm and you see the broken banisters from curious customers wondering what is upstairs reminding you that family can be chaos. The flowers are lilies today and they are replaced every day and that makes me smile and I wonder who does that. This is the room of flowers because there are flowers on the mantlepiece too. Under that, a flat screen TV and games console and pretend homework out on the dinner table with pens and exercise books and a fake spilled glass of water.

Past the room of flowers is the ice cream room. I call it that because it reminds me of every summer the ice cream van jingled to our house like an old cartoon where even the trees danced and the man inside was a 99 flake with sprinkles. He would have lived in a house like this. Polka dot curtains and colourful lampshades with see-through plastic stands and I don’t really know what jive music is but they had music playing that was as colourful and angular as the ice cream room.

I like the next room because it reminds me I’m nearly at my favourite room. This room is Julie Garland’s kitchen and it smells of freshly baked cookies in a way that almost smells of freshly baked cookies but reminds you of the early 90’s when they tried to make scratch and sniff TV a thing. Anyway it’s the only room with a mannequin and she’s dressed in a white blouse with a blue apron that makes her look like Dorothy and when I told my friend she looks like Julie Garland she laughed and told me that’s not her name it’s Judy but that’s now the name of this fake housewife offering up a homely kitchen for just $999 plus installation.

That’s my journey. Every day I’m not working. I drive to the car park by Madison and Cooper and make the short walk to the coffee shop past the cul-de-sac of rooms for sale. The room of flowers, the ice cream room, Julie Garland’s kitchen, and then my favourite room. The final room. The final room before the exit to the coffee shop and it’s the only room not for sale. This is the anxiety room. A chair with no purpose and a table with no placemats. A fireplace with no mantlepiece. A vase with no flowers and a door that leads to nowhere. The room is roped off with signs on every surface reading This is an arrangement area and not for customer use. In a store full of sink-in sofas and deep oak dining rooms and lavender diffusers, here is a room so unsettlingly lifeless and an off-grey that can’t even commit to being brown and the only room that tells you off for even looking at it. The anxiety room is my favourite room because it’s the only room that changes. Sometimes a clothes rail with curtain patterns against whiteboards and wallpaper samples  and other days old coffee cups and someone left behind a walkie talkie after a staff meeting. That room is never allowed to be anything it has to be all things to everyone and we are soul mates me and the anxiety room.

After the anxiety room it was a jumble of sale rails and end of line items. Out of season overcoats, last year’s technology and then the exit. Across the street, past the fountain and into my people watching spot.

And it was in my favourite people watching spot that our story begins. Because it was in that spot that I first saw Albert Levels. Picture a hat rack in the most expensive bar in town. A tower of dark fabric. Not the dark of cheap whiteboard marker maths, the dusty dark of a hundred history lessons rubbed into old chalkboards. I guessed his age in a heartbeat. If he wasn’t 43 he was 42 and if he wasn’t a summer July August baby he was definitely a cosy winter jumper December Christmas tree and nothing in between. This wasn’t a maybe there will be flowers soon person this was there are flowers right now see how I bloom person.

Right in front of me in the queue, ordering what I would then hear him order every day.

Hello yes thank you.

I will have the Sumatra, extra hot, very little milk thank you, can I pay with cash.

Always with cash, always with permission. I fell in love before his coins hit the counter.

The next day. I got there a little later but I could still hear him order.

I will have the Sumatra, extra hot, very little milk thank you can I pay with cash.

The quiet way he said

Hello yes thank you

meant

if I was the only one here I would want to know about your day, tell me everything.

and the way he said

can I pay with cash

really meant

I know I can, I just really don’t want to bother you with any of this I wish you were rich beyond your wildest dreams.

• • •

Dear Archer,

You remind me of, you make me feel like, there’s something. Some feeling I can’t grasp. Like waking up from a dream and the dream fades like a photograph you threw from a ferryboat and it’s gone into the cold water forever. Archer you’re that picture somehow. Standing by a -

it’s gone.

I nearly wrote you a note a hundred times and nearly slipped it into your blazer pocket a hundred times. I used to sit in that spot in that cafe writing you nearly notes over and over again until the ink in my pen faded away.

• • •

This is a story about the time I left the house to be around people but not with people. People when the stars come out and they stop and stare and dream are movies you never want to end. They are movies you never ever want to end. People who no longer gaze at passing airplanes, those people are the unskippable ads.

Currently writing

sirens and stars and paper

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

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

THE MARKET

The market like a fishing net. The market at the surface. The market arching from a crane. The people like flapping fish. Squirming, slipping, sliding over and over and under and over. Opening their mouths for air.

The sky like an empty stove. Red hot and ready to burst.

The sky like an alert. The sky needs a pan.

Some air and then sand between your teeth. Some breeze and then the smell of freshly baked bread. Some wind and then the cumin. Some gust and then the spice.

Between the hollers of the traders and the bargain hunting crowd, there in the horrible discord stood Adi.

Adi stood in that horrible discord and Adi was silent.

His first day behind the stall. His third day after his father died. The fourth day his family was hungry.

And he had no idea what he was doing.

A table of tools with carved wooden handles. No idea. This one here with the three spikes. No idea. The ones his father painted yellow. No idea. Red. No idea. Yellow. Red.

"Two hundred Rupees for the crosshead." Adi picked it up and said, "This says four."

"I'll give you three.”

“Deal.”

Adi wondered if it was a deal. Was it a deal? He guessed it was a deal.

“Five for this,” said an older lady who had been eaten by her hat and was holding up a bag of nails.

“These are good nails,” tried Adi, “The best. I won’t take less than-“

The woman was gone. Swallowed up in the market. Money on the table.

Some noise this early in the morning. Some shouts against his thinking. Some harmony, some melody, too many boats in too small a harbour.

From The Diary Of Nina Hailey #1

• ▶︎ NOTES

  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

1. Notebook
   2.

• • Prescription

helloiamalex

helloiamalex

hellohellohelllll

—====3336782034762385726035873640587263495827346958237465923847569234857693248756932845763948756203948672-34985720394867-234867230946872304968723049682374098234705938475923850790975093840273\\\\\\\\        vn,cxmvn,xmcv   bbb

hello i am typing on a computer hello hello i am alex

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhasdASASASASSSSSSSSSSSSBOOB HAHa1@£$%^()(      

//|”:~!@£$%^&*()_+}{}{}

abcdefg

hello i am alex i am typing on a keyboard in my house

i am 17

i am 80

you dont know your a machine

>>>>><<<><<><><><><><><><>//////

i live at 4 camberside crescent

my brother is shaun g

score

alex 87

shaun95

23days togo

type type type. sometimes it knows what I want to say

what just happed?

I like this it easier than  handwriting nobody can read my handwriting not even me lol

hello hello

your still here

nobody usea this computer whats the point

wefwefwegweg3

4t23t23t24t24t223232334t 34g34g4qgaerergaergaer£$Q$GQ£$H£$

HQ£$HQ£$HQ£$HQ£$HQ£$HTVSS%YV£%YWB$

%YE%^UR^MT&*OMTINE^UWB$%BW$%YB$%Y$%Y%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

alex 103

shaunnn 112

19 days

19 days

19days

iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiilllllllllllllllllllllllll11111111111iiiiiiiillllllllllllllllllllllllll////////////////////

hello computer your screen is bright nobody turns you off i would but i dont know how

///

-=

haha all of this is still on the screen

terrys a dick

terrysadick

terrysadick

terrysaduck

terrysaduck

terysadick

terry sick duck

score

alex 160

shau n182

    12dayshello computer i am alex g i live

i work at SGP roofing in falton

what did you do today coputer lol

ken told me today i should learn how to use the computer i said i had one at home

i think this was dads

today is Wednesday haha i wrote Wednesday and it changes it to Wednesday

Wednesday 8th March 2006 [To use this feature please unlock the full version of Textmate.exe here for only $4.99 // your free trial will expire in 34 days]

theirs a button that puts the date in now it looks like a diary lol who am i simon tellen from seventh grade

put my feelings in and shit

.

9 days to go11

how do you do the 1 its on the button 111111 why cant i press it 1111

score

me 225

ssss 237

Friday 17th March 2006 [To use this feature please unlock the full version of Textmate.exe here for only $4.99 // your free trial will expire in 25 days]

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!111

i found out how hold down the arrow button just like when you do the ?

just came back from the game. dan couldnt make it i dont think his girlfriend hannH IS VERY WELL. SHAME I HAVENT SEEN HIM IN AGES. Lair came and brought peanut who doesnt play but hes living in lairs car at the moment so he played. Stagger won but only by a king. i had a straight too. Willis and trace had a good game but willis spend the night teaching peanut not to shout snap everytime he had the same number as card in the flop.

Trace wore the bracelet

!

Friday 24th March 2006 [To use this feature please unlock the full version of Textmate.exe here for only $4.99 // your free trial will expire in 18 days]

this computer is always on the screen is always on and nobody comes in here. i dont knoe what time it is i broke my watch this week its been a long week we did the roof of the church hall in Poller down near pizza hut.

i think theirs a button like the date one. 23:47:54PM

23:47:56PM

23:47:56PM

23:47:56PM

23:47:57PM

23:47:57PM

23:47:58PM

23:47:58PM

23:47:58PM

23:47:59PM

23:47:59PM

23:48:00PM

23:48:00PM

23:48:00PM

23:48:01PM

23:48:01PM

23:48:02PM

lol

Sunday 26th March 2006 [To use this feature please unlock the full version of Textmate.exe here for only $4.99 // your free trial will expire in 16 days]

sundays are like saturdays only the shops open late and mum isn’t around as much. terry is here all the time he works a lot in the week at the lesure center on warren street near the place with the board games in the window.  mum hasn’t worked since dad

Monday 27th March 2006 [To use this feature please unlock the full version of Textmate.exe here for only $4.99 // your free trial will expire in 15 days]

I didn't finish writing before what I was going to say was since

i love Trace greenwood

Jessica Lyerson

Wednesday 8th March 2006 [To use this feature please unlock the full version of Textmate.exe here for only $4.99 // your free trial will expire in 34 days] Wednesday 8th March 2006 [To use this feature please unlock the full version of Textmate.exe here for only $4.99 // your free trial will expire in 34 days] Wednesday 8th March 2006 [To use this feature please unlock the full version of Textmate.exe here for only $4.99 // your free trial will expire in 34 days] Wednesday 8th March 2006 [To use this feature please unlock the full version of Textmate.exe here for only $4.99 // your free trial will expire in 34 days] Wednesday 8th March 2006 [To use this feature please unlock the full version of Textmate.exe here for only $4.99 // your free trial will expire in 34 days] Wednesday 8th March 2006 [To use this feature please unlock the full version of Textmate.exe here for only $4.99 // your free trial will expire in 34 days] Wednesday 8th March 2006 [To use this feature please unlock the full version of Textmate.exe here for only $4.99 // your free trial will expire in 34 days] Wednesday 8th March 2006 [To use this feature please unlock the full version of Textmate.exe here for only $4.99 // your free trial will expire in 34 days]