June 9: He had a mouth that had no defined lines for where his lips began, it was like he had scrubbed them clean away with the rough side of a dish sponge until his mouth was raw and tinged red.
June 10: Whenever a San Francisco team wins a championship, the city erupts into chaos. Her phone updates her with stories of people climbing Muni buses and setting them on fire. But she was always at a distance from them, just making out the bangs of illegal fireworks and the deep thrum of a helicopter patrolling while she tried to remember what sports season it even was.
June 11: Almost every adult in her family worked in education while she was growing up. Over summers, they would take road trips and give each one a theme as they traced the California coast. One road trip, they visited every lighthouse they could drive to. On another, they visited haunted houses. One summer, they took up train spotting. She grew up thinking that was how jobs worked. They all had summers off, but you could choose to have a different summer job if money was tight. Discovering that most jobs went year-round was the most disappointing realization of her adult life.
June 12: It’s only the first week of summer break and I have already lost track of what day it is.
June 13: Information from the true crime fact bank in the back of her mind came up three times at dinner. While looking out at the water, it was suggested that this would be a good place to dump a body. She disagreed, thinking that there were deeper and more remote bodies of water for that. She also knew the answer when asked if pigs could really eat their way through an entire corpse. The pigs could potentially do it, they have the ability to eat bones, the question was more dependent on if you found a group of pigs willing to do it. Then she was able to rattle off the addresses of nearby murders.
“See, this is why everyone thinks you are a serial killer.”
June 14: The windows to the place were blocked out with posters of dancing women. It was made to look like the women were dancing behind frosted glass, so the rounder parts of them were black and in sharp focus while the less interesting parts of their bodies were blurry and fading away. She supposed it was meant to look sexy and suggestive, but to her, it just made the place look haunted.
June 15: At the Exploratorium, you can make a bubble wall. There is a giant rig filled with bubble bath solution where if you pull gently on a rope, you can lift a giant rectangle of rainbow film. The whole thing would be about five feet tall and five feet wide if my kids could control themselves at all. When they watch one kids pull the string, they pop it before it even gets a foot tall. Then when it is their turn, they don’t foresee that the other kids will do the same exact thing. They get so mad when their own bubble is popped that after three trips here with kids, I have to pull them away after five minutes or they might murder each other.
June 16: In Sideways Stories From Wayside School, there was a chapter about a girl who ate a scoop of ice cream everyday for lunch. She soon grows tired of every flavor of ice cream that there is and quickly loses her will to live. Her teacher decides to make ice cream flavors for every student in the class. It is what they taste when they aren’t eating anything, so students can only notice flavors that aren’t their own.
Every time I eat Rainbow Sherbet, I would mix it until the pink, orange, and green blended together into a pale tan color and pretend it was Todd flavor ice cream. Mixing it together always took forever and left my hand cramped especially when I was given one of those white plastic spoons that would bend nearly in half when the ice cream was still frozen solid.
much love,
hedgie
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