Mead notebook with your Pilot Precise V5 — the only pen you use, because it makes the thinnest line.)
(What do they call you?)
– In 1860, Gustav Kirchhoff first put forth the idea of a perfect black body.
I feel that I’m sinking but awake. My skin is dry like a morning after days of not sleeping. It is brittle and tired. It hurts when I touch it. It bruises easily, red and blue, and clouds of black.
– It would be of infinitely small thickness and completely absorb all rays of any kind.
I feel my classmates looking at me. They wonder where I’ve been. They notice my unwashed hair. I haven’t showered for days. I avoid the shower.
– We’ve since dispelled with the need for the body to be small.
(– Or have we.)
– We preserve the requirement that it absorb anything. Anything.
– All incident radiation.
John calls me while I’m in class. I don’t answer. He knows that I’m in class.
He doesn’t know. He forgets. He overcompensates.
He wants to disturb me.
He needs me.
So I don’t forget him.
What does he need?
What do you need?
Nothing. Call me after class. I’m going out.
Are you alone?
I’m with Michele.
Getting drinks?
My coffee isn’t hot anymore. I pull a Red Bull out of my purse. I crack the can. It’s warm. I rub my face.
Probably. Does it matter?
I thought you weren’t drinking this week.
It’s fine. I’m with Michele.
This is what we do together.
It’s what we do together.
This is what we do together.
I call him later but can’t get him on the phone.
Charleston is a cluster of river veins flowing into the Atlantic.
We drive to the end of a thin peninsula and stare out over the estuaries. I wear a white cashmere sweater. John wears a red wool cardigan. We pass a bottle of Dewar’s back and forth as the sun sets over the ocean.
How are you feeling? I ask him.
How are you feeling?
Really happy to be here with you.
This is nice.
It is thought that a white dwarf with a low enough surface temperature could harbor a habitable zone.
It is also thought that a white dwarf’s cooling could draw planets in, completely consuming them.
It’s raining. The streetlight shines through the drops on my windshield. They make a pattern of constellations. Two of them merge and slide in a stream down the glass, and break up at the wipers.
I blow smoke into the cabin.
I am at the center of an immense system. I keep the planets in orbit around me. I keep everything in balance.
I am a perfect daughter, student, girlfriend, woman. I’m admired.
I have roles. I’m a social human. I follow the rules.
I easily follow rules.
Men want me. Right? They’ll want me more when I’m thinner.
I’ll be unstoppable.
Then, I will always be happy.
I open the door and step into the lot. Stop & Shop glows like a galaxy.
I’m a cosmic species.
There are no shadows in a supermarket. There is nowhere tohide. You shouldn’t be hiding things. I can only walk in circles. I walk around endlessly.
Every corner opens onto another aisle. Another curve. Another cluster of brands.
MorningStar. Capri Sun. Ocean Spray. Aunt Jemima. Quaker. Betty Crocker.
General Mills. Bisquick. Duncan Hines. Hungry Jack. Jiffy. Pepperidge Farm.
Mrs. Butterworth’s. Campbell’s. Kraft. Post. Hershey’s. Carnation. Best Foods. Kellogg’s.
Pillsbury. Nabisco. Heinz. Hellmann’s. Hunt’s. Frito-Lay. Keebler. Healthy Choice.
Kid Cuisine. Stouffer’s. Green Giant. Ore-Ida. Smart Ones. PowerBar. Hormel. Chef Boyardee.
Lipton. Uncle Ben’s. Rice-A-Roni. Pop Secret. Pringles. V8.
Ragú. Prego. Tombstone.
I pick up a pepper, I put it back. I pick up an apple, I put it back. I pick up a bag of grapes. They’re meaty inside. I find this disgusting, I put it back.
I read the labels closely. I calculate values. I bite my fingernails off. I touch my own skin. My hair. My lips are dry. I lick them. I calculate minute sums.
Everything is quantified.
I calculate time spent eating and not eating and what
(What do they call you?)
– In 1860, Gustav Kirchhoff first put forth the idea of a perfect black body.
I feel that I’m sinking but awake. My skin is dry like a morning after days of not sleeping. It is brittle and tired. It hurts when I touch it. It bruises easily, red and blue, and clouds of black.
– It would be of infinitely small thickness and completely absorb all rays of any kind.
I feel my classmates looking at me. They wonder where I’ve been. They notice my unwashed hair. I haven’t showered for days. I avoid the shower.
– We’ve since dispelled with the need for the body to be small.
(– Or have we.)
– We preserve the requirement that it absorb anything. Anything.
– All incident radiation.
John calls me while I’m in class. I don’t answer. He knows that I’m in class.
He doesn’t know. He forgets. He overcompensates.
He wants to disturb me.
He needs me.
So I don’t forget him.
What does he need?
What do you need?
Nothing. Call me after class. I’m going out.
Are you alone?
I’m with Michele.
Getting drinks?
My coffee isn’t hot anymore. I pull a Red Bull out of my purse. I crack the can. It’s warm. I rub my face.
Probably. Does it matter?
I thought you weren’t drinking this week.
It’s fine. I’m with Michele.
This is what we do together.
It’s what we do together.
This is what we do together.
I call him later but can’t get him on the phone.
Charleston is a cluster of river veins flowing into the Atlantic.
We drive to the end of a thin peninsula and stare out over the estuaries. I wear a white cashmere sweater. John wears a red wool cardigan. We pass a bottle of Dewar’s back and forth as the sun sets over the ocean.
How are you feeling? I ask him.
How are you feeling?
Really happy to be here with you.
This is nice.
It is thought that a white dwarf with a low enough surface temperature could harbor a habitable zone.
It is also thought that a white dwarf’s cooling could draw planets in, completely consuming them.
It’s raining. The streetlight shines through the drops on my windshield. They make a pattern of constellations. Two of them merge and slide in a stream down the glass, and break up at the wipers.
I blow smoke into the cabin.
I am at the center of an immense system. I keep the planets in orbit around me. I keep everything in balance.
I am a perfect daughter, student, girlfriend, woman. I’m admired.
I have roles. I’m a social human. I follow the rules.
I easily follow rules.
Men want me. Right? They’ll want me more when I’m thinner.
I’ll be unstoppable.
Then, I will always be happy.
I open the door and step into the lot. Stop & Shop glows like a galaxy.
I’m a cosmic species.
There are no shadows in a supermarket. There is nowhere tohide. You shouldn’t be hiding things. I can only walk in circles. I walk around endlessly.
Every corner opens onto another aisle. Another curve. Another cluster of brands.
MorningStar. Capri Sun. Ocean Spray. Aunt Jemima. Quaker. Betty Crocker.
General Mills. Bisquick. Duncan Hines. Hungry Jack. Jiffy. Pepperidge Farm.
Mrs. Butterworth’s. Campbell’s. Kraft. Post. Hershey’s. Carnation. Best Foods. Kellogg’s.
Pillsbury. Nabisco. Heinz. Hellmann’s. Hunt’s. Frito-Lay. Keebler. Healthy Choice.
Kid Cuisine. Stouffer’s. Green Giant. Ore-Ida. Smart Ones. PowerBar. Hormel. Chef Boyardee.
Lipton. Uncle Ben’s. Rice-A-Roni. Pop Secret. Pringles. V8.
Ragú. Prego. Tombstone.
I pick up a pepper, I put it back. I pick up an apple, I put it back. I pick up a bag of grapes. They’re meaty inside. I find this disgusting, I put it back.
I read the labels closely. I calculate values. I bite my fingernails off. I touch my own skin. My hair. My lips are dry. I lick them. I calculate minute sums.
Everything is quantified.
I calculate time spent eating and not eating and what
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