At lunchtime I send flirtatious messages by text to BT. Then around 5:30 i have a shower and get dressed and i'm waiting when he gets home from work. I want to go out and sit on a patio and have a draft pint, and I want to flirt, and then I want to come home and make out before my friend, who is sleeping in our living room, gets home from his work dinner.

But when BT gets home he only wants to go to the workshop so he can smoke a joint and work on his surfboard project. i am.. well. frustrated. hurt. frustrated. did I say that already? We have words. It's not a bad fight but it feels like underneath there's something spiky and I admit that I am feeling like, 'what's the point?'.

Tempted to crawl into bed and fall into a netflix hole, but instead I change into an even better red dress and smooth on purple lipstick my sister gave me (BT hates lipstick. I hardly wear it anymore). I come down to the cafe on the corner, I get a beer and a quesadilla and listen to some smashy punk and watch people. A dude rolls by on a bike with dreads hanging loose past his knees and I wonder if that ever leads to disaster. People. it's nice. I maybe need to leave the house more. Someone puts on the Lost in Translation soundtrack, which is a favourite. I listen to Jesus and Mary Chain and watch the streaky red sunset. The clouds are castles in the sky.

*

i work at the cafe for hours. They play an old Belle and Sebastian album, another favourite. At 11pm, my friend coincidentally walks by with his work people, bangs on the window, I go out and politely kiss them all on both cheeks (4 men, 1 woman = 10 kisses) and waffle about meeting them later at the bar. I just want to bury myself in work right now.

8:59 p.m. - 2016-07-27