Diary 26
SCREAMING ELEGY
As soon as she started screaming most of the crowd averted their eyes—a dusty, ragged howling that sounded like it scraped her throat on the way up and out of her body. Most chose not to look but everyone stood unwavering, loyal to her, loyal to the grief that connected them all. Soon the room filled with the smell of burning flesh, and smoke began to pour out of the screaming woman’s nostrils. She was absolutely losing her shit. One got the sense that she had expelled all her oxygen and had been taken over by another spirit, until the room went silent— the screaming stopped, and the woman took a deep breath, lowering her face to the ground with the others in the crowd, and exclaimed, look at the blood in the river, the bodies of men scattered across the hills. Is there more to lament?
IDYLLWILD MAN
Although I can see the outline of chewing tobacco stuffed in his bottom lip, I’m startled every time he spits. “I like to sunbathe naked in the creek out back” he tells us, then hawks and discharges a wad of brown saliva into a red solo cup. I’ve noticed the cups in the nooks of every room: one under an elk mounted on the wall, another on a book shelf, a third tucked under a seat on the porch. “And sometimes” he starts, clears his throat to spit again, “I’ll just lie right where you guys are sitting and have a friend over. She’s okay with my nudity.” We cough and peel our damp skin off of the leather sofa beside him.
HOWLING ACROSS THE CANYON
A couple nights ago, my best friend and I took her dog on a hike. We strained up hills, breathless as we spoke, and paused by a wide, open meadow, where she took her pup off the leash and let him bound through the grass. Naturally we both tried to run with him. Though neither of us could keep up we certainly felt free watching him.
Hiking back, suddenly the entire canyon erupted in song, all the coyotes crooning at sunset. Because we were still in the middle of the trail, it sounded like we were surrounded by them on all sides.
BACKWARDS
My dad once told me, “sometimes you have to take what feels like a step backwards, in order to move forwards.” This feels especially relevant right now.
FORWARDS
I’ve been thinking about my future in fine detail. 10 years from now I’d like to be living in a little ol’ cabin in the woods, with a big wolf-dog & a business of my own. I see myself writing at dawn & sitting at my workbench during the day. I’ll forage for food, tend to my own garden, & wade through creeks every chance I get. I’ll decompress with a fire at night & listen to the wind rushing through the trees, my pup’s head in my lap. Everything I’m doing at present is for that future. Gotta keep that in mind.
