Saturday, April 18, 2026 — For some reason I'm tired no matter how much I sleep. Whether I get a full night's sleep or nap, I'm still tired. I wonder why. Sometimes I feel like I was just born tired . . . I swept the apartment & cleaned out the pantry. Grocery store. Before we left, Mary caught a spider on the windshield with the bug net she got from Daiso. I sat inside the car, too lazy to really care, & watched. The spider beneath the rainbow bug net looked like a kid beneath an elementary school gym parachute. Then, ensconced in a pill bottle, it looked trapped in amber. I held it on my lap until we released it in the grocery store parking lot. Later, Mary dropped my book ( Discipline & Punish ) on my potted flower. The book smells floral & the flower stays crushed. Tired. The day went by too quickly.

Friday, April 17, 2026 — On the way to work, I wished I could just ride the bus a little longer, but it wouldn't change anything; if I had a longer bus ride that would just mean I would have to get up earlier for work & I wouldn't really want that. Later, I saw pink & yellow tulips in a vase while Mary bought me fastfood after work. It made me think of the Plath poem. Scanned my drawings at the library. Practiced Ode to Joy on the recorder.

Thursday, April 16, 2026 — Day off for no reason, other than than no decent jobs came up. Maybe I'm too picky, but I've made it this far into the schoolyear & have been okay. Struck with artistic / sitely inspiration, spent much of the day making illustrations for a redesign of the site. Then after Mary came home, an unnecessarily drawn out, hourslong argument that made me wish I could clean out the inside of my head with cold water. Spent a portion of it in separate rooms, reading my book, but the difficult thing about sharing a room is that in instances like this you don't feel genuinely alone; the door can always be opened & there's no real defense against it. Sometime past 10 PM it was okay. It always is in the end, but I feel tired regardless. It felt unambiguously like a waste of time. White rice for dinner ( the source of our argument ).

Wednesday, April 15, 2026 — Frigid April rains on the playground, heavy. I tried to write a poem about it through the classroom window, but it became suddenly sunny again before I could finish. It was the school I've passed on the train for months with a schoolyard of cherryblossoms, but the cherryblossoms were gone now, pink replaced with deep burgundy. Though there were children's cherryblossom artworks in the hallways. Headache after work that was distracting. Three or four hour nap despite a full night's sleep. Maybe I'm still sick. Iridescent paper chains falling apart, at the yellows first, shortlived like the cherryblossoms. The alienation of routine.

Tuesday, April 14, 2026 — Less sick. Listened to Avril 14th covered by a pedal steel guitar. Spent much of the day covering the bedroom ceiling in paper chains. My sister said it looked "like Animal Crossing". Started feeling better so I cooked dinner & cleaned the bedroom & kitchen. I did my taxes & got more money than I expected, so I'm going to buy a lamp for my wilting plants & binoculars. Did laundry earlier in the day because I got piss on both of my towels. The tree near the laundromat is shedding its petals & there are mounds of petals that look like pink snow. It's really beautiful. I got an angel card from a friend in the mail & a very cute postcard of a redhaired girl. I had a lot of fun today. All I did was spend time alone, but it was fun. As I spent time in my room, I could feel the cool breeze through the window. The weather is good. Tonight I'm happy. I'm working at a brand new school tomorrow which is scary, but it's also okay.

Monday, April 13, 2026 — More sick. Pink train cars. Paper chains. Rearranging & taking down the pictures on the walls, halfway before getting too tired.

Sunday, April 12, 2026 — Halfsleepless night. She told me she heard my noises all night and that I should lay on my side instead of my back, but I couldn't help it. The worst backpain I've ever experienced upon sitting up in bed, immediately followed by laying back down. She made breakfast & then I used a vibrator on my face, above my sinuses & remembered my childhood friend with cystic fibrosis. Arrived late for Agape Vespers. It seemed special to hear my nightly prayers said in the middle of the day to a full church. The service was quick & happy. The priest said that he works a job that makes the days go by quickly & reminded us that for some, this may be our last Pascha, a small memento mori. He handed us a dyed-red Easter egg from a basket, that from afar I mistook for tomatoes ( & I thought of my favorite bug ). It was pleasantly cool to the touch in the warmth of the church & it dyed my palms red. After the service, Mary said she wanted to go back with me next Sunday. The air outside felt coastal cool & damp in contrast to the stuffy church. She said after that she wanted to go to the coast today, but changed her mind a little later, much to my disappointment. Hard not to sulk. Sick at home on my favorite holiday.

Saturday, April 11, 2026 — A vague headache that became a definite cold, trumpeting my nose all day to no avail. Ate a sandwich with canned sardines, red onions ( among other vegetables), & chilipaste but couldn't taste it. At most I just felt the texture of the ingredients in my mouth, as flavorless as ice. Was annoyed with the effort it took to make something so pleasureless. I spent most of the day writing haikus between naps, putting my paper down & picking it up again only a minute or two later, unable to get thoughts of poem-edits out of my head. I started counting the syllables of my own thoughts automatically. I was in & out of consciousness like this until the Pascha Vigil. Mary & I got there late & left early ( during communion ), but we were still there for three hours. It was difficult to stand for so long with my cold. Whenever we had to bow our heads to pray, my snot would become waterthin & drip out of my nose. Drawn out singing, petals on the ground, children curled on top of the petals on the ground, sleeping, their heads on jackets. The room was hot even with the little windows opened and the lights were on, unlike my last dim visit. We got there so late that we missed the candles, but we walked inside with everyone. The gate was stuck. My back hurt from standing. I was surprised the priest remembered me from my singular monthago visit as I kissed his hand, then kissed the congregation's hands. Then I stood with germaphobe Mary by the door, easy to spot because she was the only woman without her head covered ( I forgot to tell her ). I thought of what it meant to die so I don't have to die. Somehow, the priest smiled the entire time, jubilant. In the carride home, Mary complained, but it was endearing, like I took my kid to church. I fell asleep quickly.

Friday, April 10, 2026 — Nosebleed in front of the schoolchildren, barometric pressure headache. She flubbed the alarmbuttons & it shone an agonizing light twenty minutes before I had to get up for work. Sweaty bus ride home & took a nap for my agonized head. Woke up into openwindowed cool rain. The hazy sky glew. Petco & Winco. Stuffed nose, etc.

Thursday, April 9, 2026 — A series of uncharacteristically vivid sex dreams followed by a dream of myself asking God for purer thoughts; was met with an increasingly bright light that blinded me & woke up to my alarm. Worked on a couple of haikus. I like their similarity to observations & their crystalline nature. And the idea of season words. I can imagine myself having a robust list of my own season words, a secret language. I like the way a haiku can encapsulate a single moment, the way some of Basho's read as a travelogue. I spent a lot of the day writing lists & dreamt about a future. Going through photos & writing scraps to meticulously order past memories. Didn't do much with my day off & regretted not working. There's always so much pressure to enjoy myself on my days off. Saw robins & Canadageese on the Washougal river. Rae wouldn't believe that what we were seeing were twinkling stars, stationary, and not airplanes.

Wednesday, April 8, 2026 — Silence, heads down in a dark room during recess. Was asked if our bodies still have germs when we're dead, if when we die sick our bodies still carry the same germs that made us sick, if we still have germs when we're in Heaven. Oscillating between not enough time & too much time; either way I'm not doing what I should. We drove back to the music store & I could clearly see both mountains. Oregon Snoopy was slowgoing today. Postwork lethargy, despite my efforts of enough sleep last night & an afterwork nap. Canned herring w/ tomatoes on crackers, white rice w/ kimchi, chocolate on buttered bread, Marymade too lemony pasta, vanilla Greek yogurt w/ chocogranola, chocochips, & a cut up strawberry. Feeling emptied out.

Tuesday, April 7, 2026 — My feet hurt. Sitting in an empty preschool classroom for an hour plus. The most plain school I've visited. Nothing about it was special; not in beauty, not in ugliness. The only thing different about it was its periwinkle playground & terrible end of day dismissal routine. A child was drawing a woeful expression onto an empty dry erase board face labelled "scared" & I mistook it as a drawing of me. Rainbow motifed room, too blue. Michael, too blue. Afterwork: Falling asleep in the car on the way back from the music store, short email, shower, dishes, dinner, dishes, laundry, packed lunch. I feel tired & unhappy. Wanted tomorrow off, but thought of the summer. Overheard Mary describing this period as our season of work / busyness to Rae & it made me feel better, that it is temporary. I had somehow forgotten. ( Though she accidentally said until the end of Summer, instead of till the end of Spring . . . ) I need to stop acting as if I might die tomorrow. "The difference is she takes it on the chin. I don't take anything on the chin". I feel like a carcass. Last night in bed, I felt the presence of God as I prayed. It was physical, occupying space.

Monday, April 6, 2026 — Brief perfect morning, waking up to Mary's movement & then falling back asleep for fifteen more minutes into soft morning light, soft cool, soft softness. Then it dissolved. The bus drove past me despite that I kept the vigil well & for no reason I had to frantically wave my arms & run after it. It felt embarrassed as though I had done something wrong by not being noticeable enough in my guard, but I didn't. I felt my Monday morning sickness. I read at work. The room felt too hot. In the morning I felt really excited to get home, but by the time I got home I had forgotten what I was excited for. Overnight oats w/ ( too much ) banana, leftover work salad, dashi ochazuke, lemonpeppered herring w/ grape tomatoes on crackers ( I thought of a special bug ). Then dinner. I told Mary that as much as I like cooking, it was nice that she was cooking instead, but I couldn't help myself from cooking half the meal: zucchini shrimp scampi ( without the shrimp, allergic ). Saved the lemon peels to attempt marmalade. Very scared of the future. And of work. I feel invaded. My favorite flower "may seem like a cliche bouquet filler".

Sunday, April 5, 2026 — She read the birding book to me in bed. Gifted diamondpainting Michigan Snoopy, then began diamondpainting Oregon Snoopy ( next to me the fragrance of Snoopy Easter candies ). Part of a chocobunnny & some small cookies— all of it a gift, then a fried egg on sourdough toast with Tilamook cheddar ( cooked through yolk ). Fretted about a movie, but didn't watch one. Gently lazing. The arduous previous hikes & animal spottings: the reminder of the necessariness of writing. Leftover fishcakes with rice & large pieces of kimchi. Masturbated while she showered then left with Mary to rent an oboe. Washington always looks just a little different from Oregon. Stood beside her & did sudoku as she filled out the contract. Saw cherryblossom petals gathered in the edges of road like the remnants of melted snow, then a brokenwinged bird. Sad until the bird was identified as a killdeer, its brokenwingedness a ploy. "Now I'm running like a plover". Made a wonderful salad ( baby greens, spinach, red onion, red cabbage, coleslaw, carrots, feta ) while listening to videos on Mary's computer of the musical leaf. Watched her stuff a series of plastic garbage & leaves in her mouth as she made pitiful sounds, a strange waking dream. Loud squeaking as I finished the lightgreens of the Oregon Snoopy. Stayed up just a little too late. Polkadot pajama pants again.

Saturday, April 4, 2026 — It was warm enough to put the plants on the porch. They're already wilting; my dim apartment. Eggs Benedict without the meat. Went to the library after accidentally walking twenty minutes in the wrong direction. Chores: Laundry, cleaned bathroom ( accidentally mixed ammonia & bleach ), cleaned kitchen sink, did dishes, cooked, did dishes again; grocery shopping ( went without list & spent too much money ). Rae made angelfood cupcakes wrapped in limp pastels. I got my dates wrong & realized that next Saturday / Sunday is Pascha, so this weekend became empty ( to my relief ). Wore my new ( freshly cleaned ) pajama pants today, colorful polkadots on black. I like polkadots more & more as I get older. Anxious. Finished Mary's Michigan Snoopy. Misunderstood a sonnet.

Friday, April 3, 2026 — The school beside the big evergreen forest after five hours sleep. The sun was much higher in the sky on the walk this time. A big flock of Canadageese that a kid called "hundreds" but was really closer to fifty. Overnight oats leaked in my lunchbox, soursmelling. Sudoku, crossword, book, untouched in my workbag— too tired. Rice with kimchi, at work & then at home. Learned it tastes better when I don't bother to dice it, more intense flavor. Canned sardines on crackers. I felt really stressed until I wrote a to-do list & could only come up with "dishes". Realized that I'd gotten the dates wrong & next weekend is Pascha; instant relief, the gift of time. The April calendar page is Snoopy resting his head on Schroeder's music. Four hour nap ( couldn't focus on Grass for my Pillow ). Felt well rested, then groggy. Rae's pasta for dinner. Greek yogurt with strawberries & chocolate chips. ( Craving chocolate lately, face bepimpled; if I weren't on T this would harbinge my period. ) Unwanted discussion about the works of Michael Haneke. Desire for solitude.

Thursday, April 2, 2026 — Up at 8 AM. Donut shop with Mary, devil's food cake donut with rainbow sprinkles ( Annie's, actually very good ), then fried egg w/ parmesan on toast when we got home. Tired & took a nap. "Well rested". Overnight oats. Cottage cheese w/ chili paste & pepper. Cottage cheese, tomato, basil, & balsamic on toast. Leftover pasta primavera. Thrift store with Mary: wonderful yellow shirt & some scarves, pajama pants, brown Mary Janes that fit her & not me, some puzzle books ( one Garfield themed ! ). Spent a lot of time working on Wren's birthday card, childishly drawing. Sang Waters of March ( Garfunkel version ) in shower. 10:30 PM Rice w/ kimchi, scallions, sesame seeds, furikake. Same thing for lunch tomorrow. Wrote in planner. Wrote to-do list. Cut orange & yellow tags off of thriftstore clothes & put them in the laundry hamper. Cleaned my desk. Trying to be responsible.