My favorite pasttime

Is mspainting hair onto my bald father

How to Be Happy

1.
Don’t think about it. Don’t think about how
hollow
it makes you feel.

2.
Smile. Just the act of smiling helps to improve your mood. It increases serotonin levels in the brain. Or dopamine. Or norepinephrine. One of the neurotransmitters that relates to
happiness.
Think about how much lovelier you look when you’re smiling. Think about how it delights you that onlookers see you, and wonder what you’re so happy about when the weather is like this.
Think of, in contrast, how little it delighted you to know that when strangers saw you yesterday, they could see a girl with an aching heart and a fragile psyche.

3.
Smile at a stranger. Revel in how before they can even stop to ask themselves why you’re smiling at them, they smile back.
Maybe you didn’t make their day, but you made it a little bit better.

4.
You’re still thinking about it. Okay, so clearly you can’t just disregard it entirely.
It happened, and it mattered.
If the thought of his fingers around your throat and the way he crushed your breasts against your ribcage still bring up a reflexive gag or a tortured gasp, that is fine. Think about it. Process it, and disregard any negativity. Process it. Feel it. Complete it.

5.
Think about how good you look today. Today, you dressed as a Warrior, but everyone else thinks you’re a femme fatale or maybe a sex worker.
These boots you wear are pointy, sharp, and dangerous. Pointy like elf ears, like elf weapons, like elf armour. You’re an elven warrior. You’re captain of that mythic army in your head.
You have powers.
You can bring out the sun.

6.
Don’t think about how nice it was just to smell him again. Or how gratifying it was when he put his arm over you and buried his face in the small of your back.
Don’t think about how it hurt when he pulled away, either. None of these things matter. You’re not allowed to let it matter. None of it was ever allowed to matter.

7.
You’re skipping psych class, because you think your professor would know what
happened
to you.

7.
You hang out off campus. You see a squirrel running along a telephone line. See him stop, chitter, look behind himself and then back ahead. See him charge onward. Smile as you realize that you just witnessed this creature have a thought.
Wonder what it was.
Delight yourself with all the tiny possibilities.

8.
You’re still thinking about it. Okay, so try to make it positive. You did your best. You lost this round, but you were sick of his game.
You wanted to care about him, but he makes it so hard.
You wanted to sever anyways; he’s just making it so much easier.


9.
Your elf boots are loud and give authority to every quickened step you take. They’re comfortable, too, even though they’re severe. Smile to yourself with every assertive, thundering stride.

10.
So you’re tired. You decided to stay in bed a bit longer this morning and cry a little bit. You didn’t have time to make coffee. That is fine. You think your barista is a total babe anyways. He’s skinny, smokes cigarettes, and is elegant.
You think he looks like a bird.
Delight in the way he’s already making your order when he sees you in line.
Give him a big tip, like every day, because he makes your coffee just how you like it and he has a twinkle in his smiling eyes and you want to bang him.
Even if you never work up the nerve to tell him how you think of him, you’re his customer and he’s your barista and what you two have is beautiful.

11.
Seriously. Stop thinking about it. You knew the whole time he never loved you. For fucks sake, you didn’t love him. Stop resenting him. Stop resenting yourself. He wanted to use you and you didn’t let him.
You never even had a single song that reminded you of him.
This dynamic was strange to him, and it worked for a while, but you know him well enough to know that pushing people away is what he’s best at.
You’re better off for not putting up with it. You’re not going to be one of those girls who will stay with a guy who is bad to you. But you’re not going to freak out on him either.
You’re better off.
You’re better off.

12.
You’re thinking about it.
That’s okay, I guess. You’ll feel what you feel until you don’t anymore.

13.
You’re waiting for the bus when you see Soo Yeung, the person you had a huge crush on last semester. You haven’t seen him in forever. You see that he’s still wearing the same black vans. That tickles you, as you always liked them. His hair is longer, yours is shorter.
When you go up to talk to him, he pets your new blunt bangs. He shows his teeth when he smiles. He pulls you in for a hug.
You think, this guy probably holds his girlfriend and strokes her hair when she’s sad. You think, I bet she loves him.
You let yourself prolong the hug for several seconds more than is usually okay. You squeeze him really tight, tighter than you probably should ‘cause of the girlfriend and all.
You’re glad you look so good today, rather than having gone with the sweat pants and dirty hoodie that you wore to bed that you almost didn’t change out of.
He let’s you cling to him. He squeezes you back.
You chat for a bit. He studies your face. You’re still thinking about it. Don’t think about it. Smile.
You smile. Weakly.
You don’t know whether or not you want him to ask you what’s wrong.
You don’t know what you can possibly say.

14.
You still have a playlist saved with all the songs that you were listening to when you still liked Soo Yeung. You still, sometimes, look at that picture you took of him sneakily during class where his hands are raised because he’s explaining something. You try to remember what you guys were talking about. You think that was when he was talking about The Mouth of Sauron.
You still look at the sexy pictures he sent you of himself. Remember that, and delight in the way you
-almost-
won him over.

15.
Everyone else thought this guy, Soo Yeung, was a dick for doing what he did. Leading you on when he had a girlfriend. As the aggressor, you knew they were wrong and that he’s a good guy. You thought he was honorable for letting you know you were the other woman before things got too out of hand. You thought he was good for choosing not to cheat on his girlfriend with you.
You thought the fact that he was still perfectly nice to you after, made him a fucking Prince Charming.
Delight in the way that you, and apparently only you, can see that when people do bad things they’re still good people.
Not everyone is as kind, is as fair as you.

16.
Study his face back. Notice that he can tell something is wrong with you, but appreciate that it’s probably not easy for him to bring up. Notice that he’s beautiful and his features seem so much less severe than they once did. Notice his flaws. Admire them. Let yourself admire him. It’s not a crime.
Remember how, at one point, you were talking to him about time travel and tangent universes. Think about how it seemed like you’d met someone, finally, who was custom made for you.

17.
Soo Yeung’s talking about how busy he’s been lately.
Remember how this boy rejected you: How he made a point to let you know how hard you’d made things for him, how he let you know that it was so tempting an idea to go for it with you.
Remember how little it hurt you.
Because, really, it didn’t hurt.
It was disappointing, yes, because you thought it would be nice to have sex with someone you actually had feelings for: you wanted to wrap your legs around his face, have him finish inside you, then cuddle and watch sci-fi and talk about Joss Whedon.
It was disappointing, but it didn’t hurt.
If this Prince Charming didn’t hurt you, why let a person you always thought was a scumbag, the person you called shit eating goat fucker make you so goddamn sad?

18.
You try to smile again. It’s that point in the conversation where you both know its time to part.
You’re about to back away, when Soo Yeung opens his arms for another hug.
He doesn’t know what’s wrong, but he rubs your back a little bit. He has no idea how much you needed that. It’s comforting. This embrace is shorter, because you want to let him leave.
You turn around.
“I have some time before work,” he says after you. “Let me give you a ride home.”

19.
It’s very much out of his way. You don’t want to inconvenience him. It’d be better if you refused.

20.
You don’t, though. You feel like you owe it to yourself to accept someone’s generosity.

21.
Your day is picking up. Delight in it. Don’t think about what happened with Shit Eating Goat Fucker over the weekend, what he did to you. Just appreciate that a person you could easily fall in love with is being kind to you. Don’t fall in love, just appreciate that he is lovable. Just appreciate that he is kind.

22.
His car is a blue Honda jeep van thing. You want to call it a Wrangler. You don’t know car names. You’ve only been in it once before.

23.
There’s sports equipment and gadgets in the very back row of seats, but the rest of the car is clean. You pick up the solitary piece of garbage in the front seat- one of those paper sleeves for a hot coffee cup- and twist it around in your hands. You fold it up. You tear it apart. He talks about his latest project, that he’s building a pair of retractable wings for a costume. You look at his throat. After that he wants to do something with photography.
You always wanted to be friends with someone who loved to create. You like people who are both scientists and artists.

24.
You don’t ask if he’s still with his girlfriend. You know he is. The last time you asked, he said yes, and you told him to hurry up with that. You regretted it because you didn’t mean it.
You don’t want him to break up with her—not really.
For sure, you’ll be delighted if their relationship ends on its own, but you don’t want him to leave her. You like that he treats her right. You hope they make each other happy.
You mean that genuinely.
Be delighted by that part of yourself. Be delighted that good guys like him exist.
Be delighted that someone good like him has someone good like his girlfriend must be. Trust that she’s wonderful. Trust that she is more wonderful than you. Trust that they’re wonderful together.
Avoid bringing her up, in case you’re wrong.

25.
He’s listening to the radio station that plays at work. Smile, knowing that when this song comes on during your shift tomorrow it’ll remind you of him.
Smile, and know that it won’t hurt.
Smile, and know that at some point you and this guy will be listening to the same song at the exact same time.
This is the kind of guy who is allowed to break your heart, you tell yourself. But this guy didn’t. Smile. Smile. Smile.

26.
While he talks, look out the tinted windows of the passenger seat and listen to what he says instead of paying attention to his gorgeous, gorgeous face. Put the tattered garbage in that little door pocket. See a patch of blue in the middle of all the choppy gray clouds. Appreciate how pretty it is, a bright solitary piece in the middle of the sky. Look at the stretches of gray sky, all the layers and layers of clouds. Gray. Appreciate how pretty they are, too.
The beams of light coming from one particular section of clouds looks mythical, like something out of an old religious painting. Point it out to Soo Yeung. He thinks it’s pretty too.

27.
Your coworker needs you to cover their shift tonight. Do it, not because they said they’d take your Friday night, but because they need this from you.
Delight in the small ways you can help the people you care about.

28.
Go to work with a huge grin on your face. Say ‘hola mi amour’ to all your Mexican male coworkers. Delight in the way they always make a point to tell you you’re beautiful today.
Tell your boss that he looks handsome today. He loves you. It’ll make his day.
Grin at every single customer like they’re your pals. Thank them for coming in.
Mean it.
You guys get more tips when you’re in a good mood. Everyone tells you so.

29.
Tell your sympathetic girlfriends at work what happened over the weekend, how horrible it all was, and the horrible aftermath. Skipping no details, tell them what he did. Tell them what he did. Tell him what you said, what he said.
Let them see how okay you are.
Delight in how quickly you’ve made yourself get over it.
That means you win. Even if he bested you, it means you win.

my class is doing a critique of my piece on Wednesday

1

I love you:

your apple lips, your gothic outfits clean and smelling like fabric softener, the way you used words like doppelganger and fetch and double and changeling.

      And how hard I can make you laugh.

      You can’t play a single instrument, but you’re still the biggest rock star I’ve ever met.

2

You love me:

       the way I eat entire melons, halved, with a spoon, or how I would offer up different interpretations based on other ways of translating some our favorite Japanese songs.

      How smart you think I am just because we think of things the same way.

      You called me lovely when I wore tight dresses and gold lipstick.

3

We used to go into my bedroom, smoke weed, and read Harry Potter to each other.

4

Being around each other is just so easy.

5

You tell me that when you were a kid you used to pick wild flowers and eat them.

6

You once said that God is everywhere so you felt no real need to be religious.

      I said that God is Cognitive Dissonance and Confirmation Bias.

      I didn’t say, Avery Baby, You’re the only miracle I ever believed in.

7

Only because you said it first.

8

Frankly, out loud, it was corny.

9

You are talking about getting a tattoo.

      You keep talking about it for a long time.

10

You are googling how to give yourself a prison tat. I don’t know why two people as smart as us are surprised by the fact that it is as easy as snapping a pen in half and dipping a safety pin in ink.

Or why I am surprised that the process takes so goddamn long.

11

Needle and ink

12

Needle and ink

13

Needle and ink

14

Needle and ink

15

Needle and ink

16

Needle and ink..

17

Needle and ink..

18

Needle and ink!

19

Needle and ink!!!

20

“Fuck this, man, this shit is tedious like pointillism.”

      “This was your idea, baby love.”

21

Yours is the image of a Torii Gate, the stylistically Japanese gate outside the front of temples and shrines.

      You tell me it represents the crossing over from the mundane into the divine.

     

22

We joke about tattooing the same thing right over my cunt.

23

We work on my tattoo, Jason in the room, all three of us watching Seinfeld.

24

Mine is an inside joke—3 black dots across the back of my neck.

a)

      Jason gets the joke, but I don’t think you do.

      b)

      It’s cause that shirt I wore all the time had 3 dots across the back of the neck, as the tag.

      c)

      It amused me, what can I say?

25

My tattoo is smaller and less complex than yours, so it should take a lot less time.

26

Still, my mind wanders as you work on me.

27

Your hands right there at my throat, face and breath so close to my ear…

28

Hot.

29

I think of you as a white-haired Japanese fairy king and I am a brilliant poison purple flower and you pluck my petals and fill your mouth with my blossom.

30

We were working on a comic, then. But we could never get our conceptualizations onto paper. I saw your vision, you saw mine. Often, we could only explain what we really meant to one another.

31

I want three dots.

32

Normally our projects didn’t carry on this long, and your Torii Gate was already done.

33

Also, it was your last weekend in the state and we had other things to get done before you move across the country.

34

The art we put, permanent, on each others bodies.

      You kissed three points along my neck, but you’d only finish two of them.

35

Undone.

36

“Baby, this means you’re mine,” you smile.

      God, your vampiric smile.

37

Your closed eyelashes are a crows wing against your cheek.

38

It’s your last day here, so we go to the park in between my house and your apartment where we first met.

39

Juxtaposition.

40

We lie underneath the largest rhododendron in the park. I pluck off large red blossoms, break them open, and suck from the

sticky sweet nectar.

41

You kiss me

42

I put your hand up my skirt. I tell you you should use your mouth somewhere else

43

Sticky sweet nectar

            the smell of damp earth around us:

                 

44

Aaaaaaaa

Oh my god baby why do you have to leave?

45

We talk about us

a)

Well, we were always talking about us, but this time it is hollow and sad and unresolved and bittersweet.

46.

I always pictured that if you were to break up, it would be as

Explosive

and passionate as the rest of our relationship.                                                                      

47

You asked what I was thinking about,

I am thinking about singularity and that I didn’t know who I would become if we weren’t evolving together.

48

Symbiosis, you know. Identity doesn’t come forth from a vacuum, we are impacted by those we spend time with.

49

I try to separate out the parts of myself that are

Me

And the parts of myself that are

Us.

50

I just feel more tangled.

51

Your last night here, I make you fuck me slow with lots of kisses

a)

I normally like it rough, so I feel it for days

b)

I normally like it brutal, with bruises and bites as physical proof that we were together

c)

I normally like a scattering of hickeys to blossom deep red, sickly purple, jaundice-yellow across my throat

a.       Battle scars

d)

I normally liked it when you say things that are doubled edged: when you call me a bitch or a slut

e)

This time, you call me love,

f)

You call me beautiful,

g)

You say, Riot baby, you’re a psycho. You’re a star.

h)

You say that I’m yours.

52

We are not finished, you say before you leave.

53

You leave me undone.

54

I loved you,

Your ghost stories and the way we’d sneak off, just to the park or to the water front, in the middle of the night to go make a fire and make smores and drink vodka and make out.

The way we were always wrapped around each other, always touching.

The way our bodies, separate from conscious thought, would be tuned into each other.

55

Now, I don’t go to the sea.

56

Jason and I walk to the grocery store to buy some chips and Swedish Fish. The rise and falling waves, the Doppler effect of passing car after passing car:

That is our ocean.

57

I spend a lot more time with Jason.

58

We do the same things we ever did, but it is not the same.

59

We used to talk about how we were atheists.

But you said that you believe in humanity.

I would say that I believe in myself.

When Jason says he doesn’t believe in God, it’s like he’s saying “I don’t believe in anything.”

60

Jason gets annoyed when I point out how a literal translation of this song totally changes the meaning, but the author was trying to make an allegory about the universe.

“Yeah, I never really liked Japanese music,” Jason says with a shrug.

61

Jason and I go up to my bedroom, smoke weed, and play video games in silence.

62

I can’t stand Jason:

His apathy, his eyebrows, his love of the literal, the way he is when he’s on his meds. The way he is when he’s off his meds.

The way he never laughs at my jokes.

He spends so much money on clothes, but he dresses like he has fucking Aspergers.

63

Jason can’t stand me:

The way I eat pomegranates one seed at a time, the way I trail off my sentences because I’m not used to having to clarify what I mean, the way I sing what actions I’m taking as I take them.

I can tell he thinks I’m an idiot, we rarely see eye-to-eye.

He asks, slut, who’re you trying to impress, when I wear breezy dresses and gold eye shadow.

64

Being around each other is just so easy.

Nadir

Somewhere along the line, baby love, it’s become a common occurrence to be woken up at all kinds of strange hours. It used to be that you and Jason would have decided to go on some kind of odd adventure and you either ended up at my place at the conclusion of it, or before you set off. You’d shake me awake and tell me to get dressed and come along, or you’d shake me awake and tell me to scoot over so you could pass out next to me.

           

I am dreaming about cutting fish into sashimi (and somehow, in my dream, I have decided this action is a parable and also there is a he-nymph named Mykonos) when Jason forces me awake.

“Riot, wake up,” he begs with desperation thick behind his teeth.

I know it’s him before I even know I’m awake. It takes my eyes a few moments to adjust in the darkness before I can see his face. I blink twice, open my eyes wide, and prop myself up a little.

           

“Jesus Jason!” I huff, voice heavy with grog. I’m a little bit annoyed. I mean, for sure I’m glad that he’d think of me for partnership on his adventure, but yesterday was the day after I’d just returned to school after winter break, and I’d gone to bed early to get back on a regular sleep schedule. “What the hell! What’s going on?”

            The alarm clock near my bed reads 1:14.

He throws his arms around me and his breathing is heavy, stilted. This is the moment I know something is very very wrong. I cautiously ask if he’s okay. My head is rushing with all kinds of morbid scenarios of why he would be here, strange and upset. His heavy breathing makes me feel bothered, like he’s coming onto me. He’s gripping the fabric of my shirt in his hand, clinging to my hair.

Is this the night he breaks down? Or is that awkward panting something different? Is this the night he says that he needs me to be more than a friend to him? I can see his lip quiver; the light from the hall comes through a gap in the doorway, into my bedroom.

He has tears in his eyes.

            I am unprepared.

            “Avery… His dad called me…” he chokes. His clenched fist flies over his mouth, squishing his lips, but from behind it he gets the words out. “Avery died last night.” He bites his knuckle.

            For a moment I think he’s joking. But no, this would be low, even for him. He is sobbing too hard, he’s too distraught to be lying. But I can’t just believe that you’re dead.

            “What?” I ask heavily, choking up. Before he can answer me, I break down. “No he isn’t. Fuck you, Jason!” I grab onto him, bury my face into his chest. He and I both are gasping for breath between disbelieving sobs. He wraps his arms over me, clutching me close. The tears that pour from my eyes cake solid onto my skin, and I feel so dry and inelastic. The metal from Jason’s sweatshirt zipper presses deep and painful into my forehead.

It’s so disconcerting to know that this feeling, knowing that you’re gone, this hollow feeling is

despair.

           

Jason clutches my hair against my neck, clenches his fist.

           

“How?” I ask through a pitiable mush mouth, drawing Jason under the covers with me. I won’t realize it until tomorrow morning, but I’m wearing your shirt to bed. I run through all my millions of memories of you. Furtive looks and that way you laughed. Your tongue and horny teeth gnashing against the skin of my collar bone. The last time I saw you. The time we first met, the first time we fucked, your Chap Stick, your stupid hat, the way I could hear in your voice whether you were smiling or not.

Uhhuh..

            “Overdose,” Jason answers, absently, unsteadily, like he doesn’t believe it either. “… It was a heroin overdose.”

            He takes his arm away from holding me to take off his glasses. He wipes at his eyes. Now that he’s not supporting me up, I crumble and draw my body inward. I lay back down, staring terrified into the darkness. He lies down with me. We don’t say anything for several minutes, as we’re both a crying mess.

            Finally I whisper, “I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry,” because that’s all I can think of to say to comfort him. I’m not just saying it to him, you know, I’m saying it out to you, too.

            You were found on your couch, sprawled over old drawings, some tattered novels, love letters and CD covers, face in vomit.

            I think of the plans you and I had, the course of our whole lives together. Though never probable, ending up happy with you is now impossible. I think of your boy lips, how they’re probably cold now. How you wouldn’t be soft, or warm. You would probably smell like formaldehyde, not like cologne, peaches, and almond oil.

           

            Jason is spooning into me, clinging desperately onto me. I can’t imagine, and I know you know what I mean, what he’s thinking right now. How life continues to prove him right. I will never admit that he’s taking it harder than I am, but you meant so much to him. And he’s so broken already, Avery, how am I supposed to save him now?

He grabs my hand. It’s unfamiliar, but I lace my fingers through his. Comforting. A need to connect. A need to feel. I already miss you so much, you can’t know the extent.

            I shiver, not because I’m cold, but because there’s an anxiety, a tumultuous low ache in my body that can’t be contained.

            “Do you remember that time he bought those lollipops? Like, shit, six hundred lollipops?” Jason says, finally.

            “Fuck,” I breathe, a new stinging feeling at my eyes. Of course I remember.

            He pauses for a few seconds, pets my hair purposefully. He’s being so comforting, but I think it’s because doing this is comforting to him.

            “I need six eggs,” he recites one of our thousands of inside jokes, sing-song voiced. His voice chokes up as he says it, and his mention of it ends with a soft, mousey squeak. That’s when I lose it again, start sobbing so loudly. I want to fold myself up into a tiny box and withdraw inside.

            I’m leaking. I’m falling apart. You’re gone, baby, you’re gone. Heroin, Avery? Fucking heroin? Of all things. Heroin?

            Hero, heroine. Heroin.. Baby why?

            Jason squeezes my hand. God, baby, why was it you? Why wasn’t it him?

            It dawns on me, suddenly, that you’ll never read the seventh Harry Potter. You will never know how the series ends. That thought keeps echoing in my mind. I imagine it will continue to haunt me for a very, very long time.

            My lips shake so hard that my teeth shatter and the rest of me shatters too.

Old love, only love

sorrow is when you realize the downward spiral of music quality produced by your favorite artist probably isn't going to pick back up