bedpost notches

[Dyon Rosier]

^preface

Worn around the edges, well-loved like most of the things he keeps on his shelves, though with softer edges than the blades that cohabitate the aforementioned shelves with it. A present from his mother, he'll tell anyone who happens to notice it lazily tossed about his apartment, often found under books or knives or dinner plates, occasionally taking residence under couches or chairs or his bed. Sometimes, when he wasn't expecting company, it'll be left open right on the table, quill still wet with ink, smudging around the edges as it dries. The pages are blurry, occasionally filled with detailed sketches of bodies, sometimes stuffed with pictures of knives, the occasional article getting pasted to a page. It's a Moleskine because he always has to have the best, even if he will never admit it to anyone other than himself.

There are no protections, no spells, no locks, not even a written warning of the madness barely controlled within. It's almost a silent, impossible dare; do you really want to know what goes on in my head? A cajoling voice, carefully articulating the quotation he had written with tender thought in the middle of the first page:

[Dyon Rosier]

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You know I will obey, so please
Don't make me beg
For blood, sex and booze you give me
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^{page one}

Date: 23 September 1979

Name: Jocelyn
Age: Claims 21 --> think she was 19.
Met: Grocers, specifically the produce section, near the raspberries.
Brought home: Shortly after. (Still need to go back to grocers. Never bought my goods.)
Fucked: Couch, wall, window, kitchen counter.
Marked: Upper thigh, close to the hip bone.
Bled: Barely five minutes.
Other noteables: Screamer.

- - - - -

Still need groceries -- beer? Buy another red tie; ruined my old one, stretched out from her straining. Let her keep it, memento to match the red scar.

Hungry -- amazing Thai place's number for future reference: 1-274-691-0942

Call Charlie about the new shipment coming in next week.

Cigarette count for day: 13.
Weed left: 3 oz., two half-smoked joints, and a bowl in the top drawer of my bedside table.
Cocaine: Out -- Call Jezzie, not Lacey. Lacey had shit last time.





Also, check Mum tomorrow, if not too coked out. There are three messages on the machine from the neighbors next door. Noise complaints.

Mean old bitch.