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Reformate
thankyou ann(e?) g.

This was originally written in letter form. Very straightforward, as intended, it was subsequently chopped into sentences and then they were cut & pasted to for the raunch quilt flowing below. Part homage to the Choose Your Own Adventure series and part experiment, I encourage you to reform the sentences to see what explanation you can create. 

Especially since the calendar is all scenic and we were supposed to be looking out at something but really it was clover-waterlines driving against the untense of the dual-zoned commercial/ residential complexes layered over the bluff. 
The last week was all thinking. 
I watched the note stick firm and sharp, our regard for it kept it damage free for 122 days.
I am locked up in the washroom, pecking this into my laptop. 
Myself, goat with a chocolate bar up my ass, I expected this to be charming and I was right.
And you laughed more for me than for you but at least you understood then.
The point is I don’t want to write you now. 
Because that’s how many X’s there were on the calendar before you stopped crossing the days off. 
You crossed the days off waiting to get somewhere later in June and I liked seeing the days murdered like that. 
It made me think of the yellow note and the way I wrote it all wrong and the way you read it all wrong and how that should have been beautiful had either of us taken the time to see it.  
Better Late Than Never
Never Threaten Battle
I’ve resorted to sending you email because I am too guilty to talk to you. 
The list read affectionately, or at least it was supposed to, but maybe it’s not safe to assume how you read, how you saw the intended tone.

1) Tuesday is Garbage
2) Wednesday night is half-price laundry
3) Kitty Litter in the AM-Kat shits at night
4) Leave the dishes to mystery
5) Rice can be a surprise
6) Change water filter Sunday night
7)    Mishu Always

I have a day of color tweaking ahead of me and my brother on the couch just outside. 
He said to me last night that he no longer feels like he is intruding. 
It irritated the joint in my knee where things rubbed worst. 
I wish he felt like he was intruding. 
Next time though, it won’t be you. 
It’ll be the next you. 
“Hey Edwin, lets go for dinner tonight.”
It’s beautiful. I mean it. The florist threw out these Zinnias and they were useless. 
I mean they meant nothing, because they were dependent on a situation to carry meaning. 
We aren’t going that way. 
“They are beautiful.”
What you are really saying is exactly what you are saying. 
There is no more subtext, and if there was tape to measure this it might seem like a shortfall, but we are into day 18 and already on the way.
I watched Dr. Andrew Wiel and was just strong enough to realize how he prays on the weak. 
I saw a man trying to look like Leonard Cohen buying “Strawberry Surprise” ice cream at the supermarket. 
It was tiring almost, despotically trying to reflect possible selves in the sudden openings of the situation. I saw this sagging spirit in the refuse bin of a florist.
I mean it was rationalizing but more like rationing. I portioned one bout of the blues for all the bad coupling.
This was all part of the rationalizing. 
That this is just along the way that we are refining ourselves and victims of the mutual process. 
You have moved a block away and when I listen to your messages, I hear what you are really saying. 
On the neatest yellow paper in the brightest red ink I posted this stiff list of rules. 
This all on the microwave, because it was more central for us than the degenerating refrigerator. 
The idea was to have you just understand a few things so that they weren’t lost in all the air surrounding us. 
I saw it for something it could only have been then and there and it was self-indulgent and I even took a picture. 
“I have some pictures of the coast I want to show to you.” 
It goes:

 

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The end of the peel...  ... bubble tea: seek it out