Thursday, 21 April, 2022
I will now write down every single little thing that happened to me last night.
Jacques got us a bottle of wine, and some savoury crackers too which was very nice of him.
I was very hungry because I had missed dinner because I had been in bed crying all day and was very tired by dinnertime and ended up falling asleep.
I didn’t wake up until Jacques walked in with a bottle of wine, wondering what was making me late to meet him. He woke me up, my nose was red and swollen, my eyes were swollen with crying. I didn’t feel embarrassed. I know he doesn’t mind it when things get obscene. He didn’t touch me, he didn’t ask me what was wrong, he just said, "come with me". I got up and followed him downstairs.
We found a nice place to sit outside. The moon was full and the air was warm. The sky was clear. The sky is always clear here.
He opened the wine and poured us two glasses.
We sat drinking in silence for about half an hour, or two glasses each.
I asked him if he had enjoyed the Big Fire.
He said, "yes. It was great. I had a lot of fun." He didn’t ask me whether I had enjoyed it because he already knew I hadn’t.
I was feeling alright.
I asked him if he’d had sex with anyone.
He said, "yes, with Kerea, and with Lily." Kerea is also a Newcomer, but she has sex with a lot of people so she is often invited to the Big Fire nights. I felt very jealous when he said he’d had sex with Lily. I didn’t know how to say it. I asked him if he’d liked it.
He smiled and said "it was so dissolving. It helped me a lot. I just felt like I was dissolving. Lily is really-" he paused, "she’s really great."
Yes, she is. I didn’t say anything.
"Do you think Leo would want to have sex with me?", I asked.
"Why don’t you ask him?", said Jacques.
I know I should.
We carried on drinking. It’s all going wrong. I’m never going to be accepted into the Us. I’m just like the rest of the Newcomers, really, I’m just as obsessed with identity, with particular beauty. I feel so proud that Jonah is In Love with me. That Bebe seems to like me. It isn’t right. I never tell anyone anything, which is all that really matters in the process of dissolving. When everything is over, I will be among the ones to turn into ashes against their own will. Hopeless.
I asked Jacques if he would like to have sex with me again. He said yes, and we walked over to the tent, hand in hand. When we lay down I started crying again, but Jacques still didn’t say anything about it, of course, why would he? He did not kiss me, I think he thought it would be obscene. He just held me. For so long. I felt like a sausage. Full. Bursting. The opposite of dissolving. I loved him so much. I was desperately in love with him. We just lay there holding each other. I felt alright. My life was meaningless again. I said, Jacques, I want you to fuck me, and then I shut up and waited until he finished and did not move until he put his clothes back on and left, and then I curled up in a ball and fell asleep until this morning.
Everything is back to normal now.
Jonah is coming this afternoon to dance naked under the sprinklers, I’m looking forward to seeing him.
There is a warehouse full of bunkbeds, for no one.
Leo said he thinks he's one of the luckiest people to have ever lived, he's so happy all the time, because the building of The Bomb is just going so incredibly well.
Sunday, 24 April 2022
Every Monday we wake up before sunrise and spend the rest of the day complaining about having to wake up early every Monday. Every Monday, we wake up before sunrise, lay out cushions on the grass, millions of cushions, on and beyond the Sunflower Field, cushions of every imaginable colour, then we sit and wait for the sun to come up. Then we chant. For we are only truly together when we chant.
Every Tuesday we put up stands on the Grassy Hills, beyond the vegetable gardens, we put up dozens of stands, stands of every imaginable colour, one stand for those who want to make lemonade, one for those who want to make strawberry jam pies, one for those who want to make caramel apples, one for those who just want to sip on cheap wine all night. We stay up until late, we walk around the stands, we light candles and watch them melt and die and light more candles, we eat, we drink, sometimes we light a big fire, and on Big Fire nights we dance, we melt with the candles. We have sex with a lot of people. We dissolve. We go to sleep.
Every Wednesday we watch a movie, on a big screen out in the big Sunflower Fields.
Every Thursday we stay inside and do whatever we want.
Every Friday morning we stay in bed until late, thinking if what we’re doing is actually really worth the effort. We’re not allowed to get up until we have decided it is. The longest it ever took anyone was forty-eight hours and fifty-five minutes. That was Leo, about a year before his daughter was born. He once told me, because we tell each other everything, that the only reason he got up in the end was because he thought he was going to be one of those people who have been lying down for so long that they have forgotten what it’s like to walk, and have to do all those funny exercises with rubber balls and iron bars until he learned to walk again. I told him, "I really appreciate you telling me this. I am willing to support you in your process of dissolving, and I want you to know that you can always tell me everything.” I would have said: "Telling is the first and most important step", but what I really wanted to say was: "It would hurt me so much to lose you".
Every Saturday we go to the beach to pick mussels.
Every Sunday we cook mussels all together in a big pan, out in the big Sunflower Field.
Every Monday we wake up before sunrise and spend the day rubbing our eyes and looking dazed, complaining about having to wake up early every Monday. Every Monday, we wake up before sunrise, lay out cushions on the grass, countless cushions, on and beyond the Sunflower Field, cushions of every imaginable colour, then we lie down on them and wait until the sun comes up. Then we chant. For we are only truly together when we chant.
That is pretty much what we do around here.
We watch the light change, and we chant.