colours in this notebook look all wrong

music: bass player, my brightest diamond
mood: penmanship

there was a massive electrical storm last night and the off-white walls of my bedroom, cool with evening, were all lit up with lightning. it slides smooth across the oily surfaces, threatening my body when i touch plaster. thunder resounding in the hallway, through my bones, the foundations of the house are shaking. it feels childish to be a bit afraid, but i am. i bury myself under stuffy blankets and wait for the sky to gentle, to turn dark again.

the days have been sticky-hot or grey with rain; in kingston, i'd sit up late in the downstairs screened porch to read & write half-letters, drink sweet-fern tea & watch fireflies. lake swimming & long walks, downtown lunch at chez piggy on friday afternoon. dad gave me his pen (a parker sonnet) so i could finish my letter "in the same hand" on the train-ride home. this is perhaps the most touching gesture i can imagine. the pen feels precious heavy in my hand & makes my script elegant, discursive even, but i haven't seen my words appear ink blue in years.

c. had an extra ticket to the saturday concert on olympic island (young galaxy, stars, death cab) & we traveled on a caravan of trains, leaving kingston separately and meeting in the great hall of union station. i caught her singing fall horsie on the ferryride, we spent the hottest hours of the afternoon in a serpentine queue, eating plums & lying in the lacy shade of centre island. the stars played through a gourmand cloud of seagulls, everything sunset-coloured, converse-worn grass littered with highschool kisses & glowing cigarettes. torquil campbell said many inappropriate things and scissor-kicked at broken microphones. he threw water & roses into the crowd.